Hello From Budapest!

Hey Everybody! Sorry I haven't posted lately! I'm in Budapest! I've been on the road for about a week now. First to Berlin, Prague, Bratislava (which by the way is a charming city), and now... Budapest! Buda and Pest are actually two cities joined together by bridges which span over the Danube River. The beauty of the city is breath-taking. The Castles, the Churches, oh the fun! I even hit the club scene pretty hard in Prague, and let's just say...it did not disappoint! I'm so looking forward to sharing my "on the road" stories with you all! Sending ya love from every corner of the globe~~ Sally Sunshine

Playing Doctor

No, this post will not be about fairies. I just liked the pretty picture.

I often like pretty pictures whether it’s a person viewed as an object, or an actual piece of art.

Hence, Dr. Dude.

Dr. Dude is an ICU nurse who I happened to meet walking down the streets of a strange city late at night in my cute multi-colored summer dress, heels slung over my shoulder, a little tipsy, but, nonetheless, feeling conversational. Dr. Dude recognized me immediately and called out, “hey, I know you, you’re from _______ right?” To which I replied, “Why yes, Doctor, I am.” Turns out, he was staying at the same hotel as I was, so, we continued to chat in the lobby while he checked in.

Dr. Dude is 30 years old, but looks all of 23 years old (Damn Gemini’s and their anti-aging superpowers!) Anyway, he’s a pretty sexy boi, and was very interested in conversing with moi, so naturally I was all ears. At the last minute, I gave him my number, leaned over, kissed his cheek, and left him standing in the hotel elevator.

Dr. Dude is prime catch, ladies. Good job, sexy bod, smart, witty, fun… BUT…………and a big BUT at that…. he’s a devout Christian, wants marriage AND kids. So, what in the hell is he doing hanging out with likes me?

I feel a little more than selfish snatching this guy up for my own personal enjoyment while some people struggle to simply get a date. I guess I’m just a gluttonous lust-filled pig. I want, I want, I want!

The thing is, Dr. Dude has decided to save himself for marriage. Although he is not a virgin, it’s been a long time since he’s engaged in the horizontal mambo.

Like 12 years or so.

Seems Dr. Dude is a bit of a freak boi, yet does not engage in any type of penetration, save anal. And folks, anal is not for the faint of heart. The guy really fascinates me. Being an artiste of seduction, I have formulated a plan to see how far I can carry on with the lust until I break him down. Yes, it’s an evil plot and the characters are actual people, but doesn’t it sound fun?

And did I mention he has the best ass I’ve ever seen?

Even if he has tendency to read bible verses to me at 12:30 in the morning, I can over look it. Because. That Ass. Heh. Makes me sweat just thinking about it.

Someday I will actually post about something relevant like Hamas and Fatah, or The Up Coming Primaries, or hell…ending poverty. Someday I may even return to my feminist roots and write something on the subject or any subject other than my own self-indulgent pleasure-seeking indecent activities. It could happen. Just not today.

Body Goals: 2007

Hey y'all,

As you know, Sally does enjoy her many hard core hours spent sweating it out in the gym. Here is the new workout plan (nutritition, cardio, and lifting) I devised for myself. It's pretty intense, but hopefully I can kick start this old mule. Heh.

Diet:

1) breakfeast: 2 servings, low calorie egg beaters with a sm. serving of fresh fruit

2) snack: whey protein shake

3) lunch: Soy burger, low fat, 2 servings of vegetables, low fat yogurt

4) pre-gym snack: Quaker Rick Cake with Peanut Butter

5) dinner: Salad with low cal dressing, fish (protein), and tomato

Other snack options: banana, apple, no sugar added: granola bar or pudding

Limit all caffeine, alcohol, and juices with high sugar content and increase water intake by 2 times the regular amount. (16 glasses per day at 8 ounces per glass)

Work out Plan: (based on a 6 day rotation, one day off)

1) Monday: 45 minutes of cardio: spin class (600 calorie burn)

Lift: Back and Biceps

Back rotation:

1) Assisted pull-ups (wide-grip) (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) One-Arm Dumbbell Row or Sitting Cable Rows (3 sets, 10 reps)
3) T-Bar Row (standing) narrow over-hand grip (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) Lat Pull Downs (3 sets, 15 reps)
5) Shoulder Shrugs with Isolation (2 sets, 10 reps)

Biceps:

1) Alternating Dumbbell Curls (2 sets, 20 reps)
2) Standing Straight Ez Bar Curls (2 sets, 15 reps)
3) Standing Preacher Curls (Ez Bar or Dumbells) (3 sets, 10 reps) or until failure

2) Tuesday- off-

3) Wednesday- 45 minutes of cardio (kick boxing and step class)

Lift: Legs

1) Leg extensions (2 machines, 3 sets of 15 on each one) warm-up
2) Squats (3 sets, 15 reps)

3) Leg Press (3 sets, 15 reps) wide stance

4) Sitting position with 25 lbs of weight on lap- hold for 2 minutes

4) Thursday- 40 minutes of cardio-Running

Lift: Chest and Triceps

Chest Rotation:

1) Incline Dumbbell Press (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) Wide-Grip Push Ups (3 sets, 15 reps)
3) Flat Bench Dumbbell Press (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) Cable Crossovers (3 sets, 8 reps)

Tricep Rotation:

1) Close-Grip Push Downs (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) Lying or Standing Dumbbell Tricep Extensions (3 sets, 10 reps)
3) Lying Tricep Press using EZ Bar (3 sets, 10 reps)

5) Friday – 30 minutes of cardio

Lift: Shoulders and Abs

Shoulder Rotation:

1) Behind the Neck Military Press (3 sets, 10 reps)
2) Seated Dumbbell Press (sitting straight up on bench, palms facing out) (3 sets, 10 reps)
3) Side Lateral Raises with dumbbells, keep palms facing down (3 sets, 10 reps)
or Front Dumbbell Raises for variation

Ab Rotation:

1) Cable Rope Crunches (3 sets, 20 reps)
2) 30 Degree partial sit-ups with Swiss Ball (3 sets, 20 reps)
3) Ball Pass (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) The Plank (2 sets, 60 seconds)

** Abs can be done every other day besides this day only

6) Saturday- 60 Minutes of Cardo, Abs and Glutes

Cardio (stair stepper and running)

Glutes

1) Walking Lunges with Weights, (3 times around the track)
2) Glute Kickbacks (3 sets, 25 reps)
3) Dumbbell Squat or Squat Lunges (3 sets, 10 reps)
4) Dumbbell Lunges (2 sets, 10 reps) or until failure

7) Sunday- cardio only with Abs (45 minutes of cardio, 15 minute abs)

Karma, 101

Everything I touch breaks.

At least today.

My car, the toilet in our community office bathroom, the toilet at the house I used to rent with my sister, the door which the cops kicked down at the old house I used to live at, and for fuck’s sake, my favorite Channel lipstick, and the end of my living room table (baby toe, meet table, AGAIN…), ect…

Eh.

Similarly, my little sister claims everything in her life rots, i.e. grows mold, from the fridge to possibly her personal life, but I’m not judging, no, of course not.

Conversely, everyone in my office is having a grand old day. So-and- so’s pathetic excuse for a son just bought a house and blah, blah, blah… suck it people!

Do I sound like a five year-old today or what? Maybe someone should just put me on a leash. After all, with my tendency to break shit and what not…..

So, why the rude smart-ass overtones? Readers, I have been feeling somewhat emotionally numb the last few days and cannot be bothered to find one iota of compassion for others in my cold dead lifeless heart.

Also, money people, that’s right, money. I’ve been spending an obscene amount of it lately and found I am somewhat disgusted with myself about it. I received a rather large inheritance over a year ago and I have basically bought a lot of shit. Needless shit. So much for that "conservative with money" accountant stereotype, you won’t find that here, no siree.

And each week it’s a game, isn’t it? We say, I’m going to change this and this and this about my life, next week, yeah, sometime next week. But that time never comes, and well, why should it? When we’re doing just the minimal amount of work in our lives to get by and keep others off our freakin’ backs, there’s not much incentive to achieve, is there?

I the problem is, I was a nose-to-the-grind stone hard core achiever for many years, and managed to make some pretty impressive strides in my life. But now, it’s just enough to get by….heh. How did it come to this, I ask myself often. And each week I make impossible promises to myself about how dedicated and service-orientated I will be and how much joy I will experience because of it, and then… fuck…. it’s pedicures, shopping, tanning, excessive gyming (is that a word?) and martinis on a Tuesday night.

Key lime pie martinis.

Who does that?

Some people my age have 2.5 kids, the house, The Job, ect, ect, ect..
Yet, I cannot be bothered with such humdrum. I’ve been catching flack from friends lately about being more “adult-like” and “stop all that partying girlfriend!” which is actually ironic, because 5 years ago with my nose held to the stone, they looked awfully frivolous in my eyes.

Well, Justin Timberlake, you just might be on to something there, what goes around does come round’. Funny, I thought I told ya.

I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend.

AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN, I WOULD UNDERSTAND.

On Saturday night, as my back slammed against the granite on my living room floor, in the midst of a short but pleasurable threesome, I contemplated the meaning of life.

Just kidding.

Well, not really.

If I had more time for blogging these days I would post more about my nefarious sexual misadventures. But no. With the move, the strangeness of this life experiment, and the apparent increase in naughtiness, the words have been failing me. And that really is shame. So, I apologize.

I’d like to end this before I go influence young minds (not exactly, more like college-aged minds) with three weird things… (besides the hasty 4am cold hard floor orgy in my loft on Sat. night)

So, here you have it…

Weird Stuff

1) Leaving for work one morning and seeing a crowd of senior citizens with “Impeach Bush”, “Peace First”, and “War No More” signs. Their “Impeach Bush Now” van was parked in plain view across the street. I honked at the old folks, gave them a thumbs up, and was on my merry way to work- not the first thing I expected to see leaving my apartment at 8am.

2) Waking up to the sound of jack hammer inside my second story loft, eh, not exactly, but it was right outside my window on the roof. With curtains wide open, I made the trek from my bed to shut of my alarm, without one spec of clothing adorning my body. I hope the construction guys got a good look at my ass. Lord knows, they couldn’t have missed it.

3) Walking with a friend down the bike trails we came to impasse, so, we stood for a moment while we, and fellow walkers, enjoyed the view. Coldplay was blasting on my iPOD and I was feeling a little nostalgic and emotional when I looked to my right. A child, probably 4 or 5, had been restrained by a harness while his parents held him on a leash. That’s right, a fucking leash! My friend and I both happened to see the kid at the same time, as we watched the parents pull the leash back while the kid pushed forward with all his might. We immediately burst into laughter as the somber moment was replaced with disbelief. A fucking leash!!!!!

That is all.

More Weirdness to come, in the near future…

Sistas' are doin’ it for themselves…

“Standin' on their own two feet.
And ringin' on their own bells.”

If you haven’t done so yet, go read Cassandra’s post about women-only spaces.

My experience with women-only spaces was a little different. I grew up in a family of women (powerful women at that) with no male influences. I saw the women around me kicking a lot of ass..doing it on their own and what not… both my mother and aunt were staunch feminists. In fact, the very first book my mom ever gave me was called “Eve’s Revenge”, a collection of feminist stories, jokes, etc… so I remember identifying with feminism at a pretty early age. Although my paternal grandmother never identified herself as a feminist, hell if she didn’t raise 3 boys on her own and run an entire franchise with little or no help. So, yeah, women-only spaces, not a bad thing in my book.

I don’t know that my mom ever told me “Sally, you don’t have to fear anyone, especially men.” But, it was communicated to me through her actions. She, in my mind, was doing the impossible (single parent, 4 kids, in law school) which taught me a lot about self-preservation and kicking ass, overall. Typically, I’ve approached dangerous situations with somewhat of a reckless attitude. For example, the time I caught a burglar in downtown Minneapolis in the process of robbing my best friend’s car. I simply told him to get his ass out of the car and start running because I was going to call the police, so when I screamed, “FUCKIN MOVE IT!”, he got out of the car and ran. Fortunately, he wasn’t able to pry her stereo system free in time.

Sure, there were instances when I was younger where disgusting men helped themselves to my body. Three situations in particular stand out. The first one was in the 3rd grade when nauseatingly perverted older boy grabbed my crotch on the play ground at school and taunted me, “Sally, watcha’ gonna do, huh?” “Huh?” Had I been a little older n’ wiser, I would’ve beat his sorry ass to the pavement, but no, I just sorta stood there with a dumb look on my face. My pelvic area burned for the next week, I could still feel his fat meaty hand there.

The next incident was when I was in 8th grade. Keep in mind, I, er, developed early. I started wearing a bra when I was 10 or 11. By the time I was 13 I was a full D-Cup, on a 5’3, 110lb frame. Let’s just say it didn’t go unnoticed. Anyway, it was the summer before my 8th grade year and I was at the state fair with a few girl friends. As we walked by the various displays n’ games, the old carnie guys with missing teeth would leer at us with their various cat-calls and what not. At one point, a particularly gross toothless excuse for a man reached over and grabbed by boob. Again, I was speechless. It was during the bright light of day and I had several others with me, so I wasn’t worried for my safety, but like Cassandra said, found myself enraged and a little bit shocked.

And lastly, as the girl from the wrong side of the tracks at the good ol’ Catholic high school, I found issues like class, religion, and sexism were alive n’ well. And don’t even get me started on race and sexual orientation. Anyway, I spent a lot of time bucking the popular paradigm. Refusing to be confirmed, openly questioning authority, standing up for other fellow outcasts who were teased by girls who made “Mean Girls” look like fuckin’ tea party…eh.. well, you know how those catholic girls are. But, the guys were even worse, specially’ the jock guys. Seeing how I had “developed early” I was often harassed in the hallways by the junior/senior guys. For example, on one particular day, an unruly jock guy grabbed my ponytail, threw me against a locker, and said to his buddies, “Hey guys, look at my little freshman sex toy.” Not the most welcoming environment for an insecure teenage girl. But, eventually, I grew out of my shell and started kicking a little ass, just like my mom… the apple doesn’t fall from the tree…

Over the years, I’ve become much more assertive and aggressive about protecting my boundaries. I no longer stand speechless when some uncivilized slob grabs a body part, I also feel like if I was attacked, I could defend myself, and hell… like I said before, maybe even kick a little ass. After all, those hardcore body building training sessions at the gym have to count for something.

There was an accident on my front lawn and the boogie man was there with his twisted machete smile asking questions about how I got here

“I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart.
Questions of science, science and progress
Don't speak as loud as my heart.
Tell me you love me, and come back and haunt me,
Oh, when I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing tails
coming back as we are.” - The Scientist, Coldplay

Last time he left I was just a little girl, and I was terrified he’d never come back. I woke up with tears stuck to the back of my throat, eyes heavy and red. True, it was winter and the daylight was long gone before he left and I never had the courage to say I love you, but it was late baby, and I was sad.

In the crossover space in my head, I turned the dial, and crawled back into bed. There was no light coming from my window, there was no soft breeze to graze my skin, and there was no you breathing down on my neck.

The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

Dear readers, I have a problem. I like to fuck my friends.

Eh.

It doesn’t always produce the most positive results, especially when certain friends aren’t as sprinkle-happy with their own sexuality. For many o’ moons, I have teetered back and forth on the issue. I’m usually very honest with my lovers the majority of the time. It wasn’t always that way. When I was younger (the teenage angst years) I often balanced three-five relationships at one time, PLUS making pretty decent grades while working 40 hours a week. Let’s just say I didn’t sleep very much as the whirlwind of faces through the revolving door didn’t stop.

Occasionally, I may've become smitten with one person, but it was always peppered with late night trysts with others. I’ve tried to force myself into “one-on-one” relationship models, but, in the end, come back to the same old place. The seduction.

Add a little bit of impulsiveness and idealism to the equation and you’ve got a die-hard sensualist. Once the energy of the encounter has been depleted, I often ponder how I might channel my lust-filled libido into other mediums.

A person can only give so much of themselves before they start to feel the affects elsewhere. I’ve never been one to neglect my responsibilities in a mundane sense, but I often miss out on opportunities for self-reflection, writing, or helping others in a more pure (heh) capacity because I’m busy chasing the feeling.

Ah, the ecstasy of a temporary high. Those moments are few and far between in this life, aren’t they? I mean, that really is the nature of an addiction. I know there are love addicts, sexual addicts..hell, there are all sorts of addicts out there. Yet, I’m not sure that’s the issue in my situation.

Over the years, I’ve attempted to explain my behavior to myself with the following reasons:

1) I am a fundamentally flawed individual with absolutely no moral compass. I am a bad, bad, bad girl.

2) I have a deep fear of commitment and will go to any and all lengths to protect my freedom in the name of self-preservation.

3) The purpose of my life is not to form romantic attachments with others, as it depletes my power and lowers my effectiveness. I’ll have fun for now, but eventually will discard my obsession with physical to help others in a more evolved fashion.

4) I like sex. Period. There is nothing wrong with me. It is who I am. I should not waste energy trying to conform to society’s expectations of moral virtue. As long as I am honest with partners, I have no reason to change my behavior.

5) I’ve learned many important lessons regarding power and relating as a result of my sexual conquests and will continue to do so in the spirit of adventure, growth, and self-awareness. And that, is nothing to be ashamed of.

At various intervals during my life, I’ve often felt drawn to one of the above reasons, or sometimes, a multitude of em’ at once. Maybe all of them are true, to an extent.

The fact is, I’ve seen the ugly sides of symbiosis, along with the beautiful. When I say symbiosis, I mean in the sense that the parasite feeds from the host. Sex mimics the symbiotic process in a very natural way. And even on a greater level, symbiotic relationships color our human experience. In the womb, we engage in this very basic primal act before we’re even born into this world. It is our first experience. Relationships continue to evolve within the realm of symbiosis for better or worse during the course of a lifetime as well.

Wiki lists several classes of symbiosis, all of which apply to our relationships in this life:

1) Mutualism - a relationship in which members of two different species benefit and neither suffers

2) Commensalism- a relationship in which one party gains some benefit, while the other suffers no serious disadvantage

3) Parasitism- one member of the association benefits while the other is harmed

4) Amensalism- the association is disadvantageous to one member while the other is not affected

5) Competition- both organisms are harmed

6) Artificial symbiosis- the mutually beneficial integration between a live part and an artifact.

Many biologists concede that symbiosis has been a major driving force in the evolution of humanity. On a psychological level, I couldn’t agree more. As one of my favorite musician's/poet's would say, “I am trying to evolve”, which isn’t done within a vacuum. We need to experience relationships fully (even negative or painful attachments) to move forward with the task at hand, doing what we came here to do.

This post started off with fucking friends and turned into a lesson in biology.

Well, ya gotta start somewhere. Happy Friday, SS

Secret Agent Man

Going Incognito……

It’s time I change my look.

I’ve moved into a new loft downtown, reconnected with old friends, made peace with ex-girlfriends, and even changed my blog. Change is in the air people!

As far as the blog goes, I was becoming aesthetically challenged with the old arrangement. Thus, reorganization was in order. When I changed templates it erased all of my previous blog links, so hopefully I’ve remembered to add everyone back on. If not, let me know.

Apart from being stylistically bored, I’ve also been a little sketched out about all of the recent media focus on bloggers/my spacers losing their jobs because of the content posted on their blogs. Then, there’s the issue of other bloggers threatening to “out” other bloggers in order to silence them. Hence, there will not be anymore personal/identifying information shared, or if it is shared, it will be kept at a minimum.

With that said…. hello freedom!

As Nasty as I Wanna Be, SS

Cum-Guzzling Whores: Take One

How come the permanent spunk-filled taste in my mouth hasn’t left despite numerous rigorous brushings?

Could it be all the unnecessary head I’ve been giving recently?

I mean, it really makes a girl wonder how much money she could make if she turned her talent/hobby into a huge money-making pornified scheme. Seriously, if I had two cents for every blow job I’ve given on my knees in the dark.... well, let’s just say my college debt would’ve been paid off long before it was.

Sex workers, I can understand. Why not make money from a fun hobby you’d do for free anyway. An extra $400 bucks a month from sucking a couple of cocks would be a pretty nice cash prize indeed. Instead, I’m scrambling to complete all my work & responsibilities while pursuing pleasure. Wouldn’t it be easier to combine the acquisition of material resources with the sins of the flesh? Talk about two birds and a stone….......

I feel extraordinary guilty for writing about my sex life while everyone else in blogdina land is writing about actual important issues. Which, mind you, I have been pondering as well, but I can’t say that I feel compelled to write about it. A foggy haze has settled square in the middle of brain and now all I can do is touch, touch, touch.

You know, the “I want, I want, I want” mass consumption practices our society engages in on a day-to-day basis. I’m not exempt from this behavior either, but find it creeps into my life in more of a cannibalistic way. I'm like a rotating door, one in and one out, then repeat.

There once was a day when I attempted to maintain some sustainable from of celibacy, but have found I’m far too physically-orientated to proceed with any kind of solemnity regarding a sexless state of existence. It just doesn’t work for me.

And, that’s all I have to say about that folks. (In my best Southern accent, of course.)

~SS

There Goes the Neighborhood

“Hey let's party, let's get down, let's turn the radio on,
This is the meltdown.
Get out the camera, take a picture,
The drag queens and the freaks
Are all out on the town.
And cowboy Jane's in bed
Nursing a swollen head.

Sunshine Sally and Peter Ustinov
Don't like the scene anyhow.
I dropped acid on a Saturday night
Just to see what the fuss was about.
Now there goes the neighborhood.” - Sheryl Crow

I’m moving. Tomorrow.

Actually, it’s not the death sentence I thought it’d be. Turns out, a good friend lives three doors down. And, of course, the chair. OMFG. The new chair. This chair is leading me to new orgasmic heights. It’s $600 chair, so it ain’t cheap, but it’s so well worth it. The chair is very difficult to explain, it’s circular in nature with a deep back one can sink into quite nicely. The chair also fits two people easily, hell, even three if you’re up for it. I’m thinking it will be The Primo make out chair, and why not? I’m living alone again so I’ve got no reason to avoid making out all over the place.

When it finally arrives on the Magical Day (May 18th) of Sally’s birth I shall take a picture of it and post it here for your viewing pleasure. In the meantime, here is a chair/small couch that is somewhat similar to what I got, minus the red color.



My place is mostly earthy tones, except for the bathroom which is an interesting shade of fuchsia. I’ve contemplated changing my bathroom colors for some time now to progress with a more evolved theme than simply “fuchsia, it shall be fuchsia.” Any ideas? The jungle theme is outworn and trite, and so is lavender or lame shades of blue. I’m looking for something with a little one-two-punch, that leaves you going “huh” in a disturbingly strange yet quizzical manner. Sorta like if I had this piece by Frank Walls hanging from the wall in my bathroom after choosing a hellfire and damnation theme.



heh.

Well, I never said it would be remotely tasteful. I think I’ve moved beyond that point, in more ways than one.

The Subtle Magnetism of Nature

I was going to do a post about nature worship/pantheism today, but fuck it, let’s talk about boot fetishes instead. Notice I did not say “foot fetish”. I have no desire for a man or woman to lick my bare feet or toes. It’s not that I don’t have cute feet. They are, in fact, quite shapely and painted nicely at the moment. However, a good boot licking done with the right amount enthusiasm could really turn this girl out. Once, in a room full of people, I had the pleasure of receiving a brief but sloppy boot sucking. Even so, I did feel little shock waves of desire as the boot dude got down on his knee in front of me, wrapped his mouth around my stiletto heel and proceeded to suck it off.

Nice.

I was never intimate with the boot guy, we only kissed once and truth be told it was, like his boot head, rather sloppy. Yet, it was at that time I started to research various fetishes, BDSM activities, and dom/sub relationships. I found a lot of things turned me on that I never even gave a second thought to before. I started watching alternative/fetish porn to figure out what types of fetishes did it for me and what did not. I also started to do “energy experiments” with the men I was intimate with by consciously putting out my own masculine energy during sex rather than “being done”. It was fascinating. I found myself touching my partner differently and I was able to appreciate other parts of his body I had previously ignored or skipped over. When I looked down at my partner’s face, his expression took on a very feminine quality.

In order for a sexual relationship to be satisfying for me there has to be some sort of energy switch where feminine becomes masculine or vice versa. I'm bored with sexual experiences that do not allow for a range of gender expression. The standard missionary position “you are the man and I am the woman” fuck does not hold one ounce of appeal for me. First of all, being bi-sexual, I couldn’t follow those rules anyway. Next, for the love of God!, what a boring lesson in relating! I couldn’t imagine a world where we are stuck in some predetermined roles just waiting for the interesting stuff to come (or cum?). How stuffy. And did I mention lame?

Men/women who are afraid to get dirty, gritty, nasty, ect.. are definitely not my cup o’ tea. Even as a child, I reveled in the dirt, literally. After a session of playing outdoors, my hair, clothes, and toes were often covered in mud and dirt, and I loved it! The experience of being intimately tied to (or tied up?) with the Earth felt very natural. In adulthood, I’ve carried some of those same concepts into the bed room. See, I started out writing about boot fetishes, but ended up coming (cum-ing) back to nature anyway. heh. And so it goes…

Shiny Happy People Holding Hands

This was my horoscope for May penned by one of my favorite astrologers:

“As you make your way in the world, consider the men who have influenced you the most. What troubled them? What did they come up against that prevented them from enjoying life and from living up to their sense of their own potential? If you find yourself being confronted by the same things, I suggest you take a chance and dare to go beyond them. Too often, one generation after the next inherits the limitations and blocks of their forebears, and we typically attract people who help us make sure the patterns stick. New things are happening in your life now, which are thrusting you into the present, which could not be further away from the past.”

So, in the spirit of analysis I thought about the questions above and came up the following:

What troubled the men in my life?

An unhealthy attachment to their mothers, over identifying with a powerful mother figure, a connection to life that was mostly spiritual in nature, avoiding the physical or being fully present in the “NOW”, escapism through drugs and religion, The Searcher or the Journeyman who is lost looking for redemption, dissatisfied with the physical aspect of incarnation, neglect of their health and emotions for fusion with the divine, inability to form strong attachments in human relationships, avoiding responsibilities in favor of freedom, self-deception, impulsiveness, Jesus complex, a martyr energy being channeled in the wrong direction, defeatism, hopelessness followed by periods of self-aggrandizement.

What did they come up against that prevented them from enjoying life and from living up to their sense of their own potential?

Fear, laziness, addictions, lack of self-awareness, perceived or real abandonment of their father/father figures, rigidly adhering to a poisonous belief structure, suffering in silence, servitude displaced, loyalties misplaced, searching for the easy way out without doing any of the work, guilt for failing as a parent the same way their parents did, investing everything into a lie and not having the strength to change.

Now, think about the men who've influenced you in your own life. After you’ve done this little exercise take a look at what you’ve written. I’ll be damned if you don’t see your partner (or if not a partner, your own issues) staring you in the face. People tend to go for what they know. If you look closely at relationships you can see the underlying archetypes operating.

For those of us consciously trying to change, it presents a unique dilemma. I have to admit, I felt a little depressed answering the questions above. There are positive and negative sides to these family patterns, yes, some of our greatest individual strengths emerge from it, but you also get the bullshit too. Obviously, the archetypal pattern represented above is Neptunian in nature. Since I do have a tendency to draw Neptunian/Piscean people (especially men) to me it’s quite fitting.

I was talking to a dear friend during lunch on Saturday. He was reflecting on his own relationship woes, explaining that certain kinds of women with “issues” or “excess baggage” were often attracted to him. Basically, he found himself puzzled that these types of women kept seeking him out. I pointed out that this isn’t a one-way street, that we are, in fact, making relationship choices that validate are own archetypal patterns whether we realize it or not, and that he is “finding them” as much as they are finding him. Both people learn something from the exchange. It’s not to say that this is necessary healthy. It may be that one has to bang their head against the wall a couple hundred times to work through the archetype to find the positive side, or, the positive woman in his situation.

Relationship choices reflect our inner dynamics or patterns whether it’s through work situations, friendships, or romantic partners. Through momentary flashes of truth in seemingly meaningless interactions we come to awareness. The synchronicity is astounding, and in those situations it does feel as if the universe is working with us rather than against us. Truth is waiting to be discovered, examined, recovered, and connected.

Last night on my deck with an old friend at midnight, I had one of those sweet moments of clarity, hence, my flower-sniffing,dress-twirling, love-fest today.

Goin’ all Budda-like on yo’ ass, SS

The cops kicked my door down last night, and how was your night?

I was sleeping soundly in my bed, all safe n’ warm, when my sister and her boyfriend burst into my room yelling, “Someone’s breaking into our house, call 911!” I sprang out of bed, grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911 as my hands were shaking. I could hear a loud banging noise coming from the upstairs. Someone was trying to get in. I told the 911 dispatched, “They’re pounding on the windows, and they’re coming in now!” A loud crash was heard from the basement. My sister and I were both screaming when they said, “Police! Police!” Still unconvinced, my sis asked for the officer’s badge, then my sis’s boyfriend opened my bedroom door and let them in. The cops said, “Where is *______* (insert name of my youngest sister)? I said, “She’s at her boyfriends, what’s going on?” To which they replied, “Your sister was on her cell phone with someone when she said “Oh my God, I’m going to die” and then her phone hung up. Her friend then called the police. We traced her cell phone to this address, how can we find her?”

The next ½ hour was spent frantically searching for her boyfriend’s address in a neighboring town. Her boyfriend, now in jail, has a history of violent and abusive behavior. Also, his friends are somewhat questionable. This, of course, increased our anxiety levels. I called my mom, who immediately left her house. As she was backing out of her driveway, two cop cars pulled up behind her questioning her about my sister’s whereabouts.

Eventually, my other sister tracked down the boyfriend’s address and officers were sent to the house immediately. It turns out that my sister was having a bad dream when she answered her friend’s call and said “Oh my God, I’m going to die.” She honestly does not remember saying any such thing to her friend, or even talking to her. My sis has been known to talk in her sleep and sleep walk, especially when she was younger, but hasn’t any incidents since then. Anyway, needless to say, it took a long time before we all calmed down and were able to sleep.

The lesson here is to make damn sure you have all the contact info of your loved ones plus numbers of close friends to call in case of an emergency. Since we all hate my sister’s boyfriend with the fire of a thousand suns we made no effort to find out where he lived or even his last name.

Also, as I tossed n’ turned trying to sleep after having my front door kicked down by the police, I thought about all the families in Iraq and elsewhere who live with the day-to-day fear that their loved ones could be abducted from their homes and killed during the middle of the night. The horror and helplessness that I felt, even in just believing for a couple of minutes that someone was trying to break into my house, was downright terrifying. I can’t imagine going to bed every night with that fear. Sally’s gonna get herself a gun, or at least a freakin’ can of mace.

Honey and The Sting

*raises cup metaphorically to readers* “Here’s to rejection, may all your humiliations be as fine as mine!”

Haven’t we all been there? Rejected by a potential romantic partner, institution, job, parent, or even your entire peer group? Yep, it happens. In fact, it has been occurring since the beginning of time. From classic ostracism dating all the way back to the budding Athenian democracy to modern day excommunications and the shunning of certain public personalities rejection rears its ugly head. And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the petty little rejections each one of us has suffered on a personal level.

Rejection, with its funny little stinger, reminds me of a bumble bee. ( I know, weird analogy, stay with me.) It buzzes around your head on a beautiful summer day, its presence annoying, yet not terribly noticeable. Until the little fucker stings you. Then, that big swollen red bump takes shape, the stinger hanging half way out of the wound. After you’ve torn out the stinger itching and what not may last for a week sometimes longer. In some cases, those allergic to bee stings may experience a fatal reaction. Hell, I think we’ve all seen My Girl where that kid dies from multiple bee stings.

Rejection, especially to the environmentally sensitive person, is like a little mini death of the ego. We scratch, we pull, and some of us even manage to suck the venom out of the wound, yet it is still painful. Some never recover, and the pain turns into rage. For those of us who manage to find some healing and self-esteem, it’s long battle indeed. Yet, as human beings I think we’re up to the task.

Not to get biblical on ya, but “forgive our sins as we forgive those who’ve sinned against us” is not a bad message. Plus, playing the eternal victim is boring and really does nothing in the way of relief anyway. The question we all need to ask about *any* wound we may have suffered in our life is, “How can I use it?” How can we take what we’ve learned through our suffering and give it back to others in the form of compassion, love, and strength? A high order, I know, but necessary in our evolution as a species.

Rejection being the theme … if you feel inclined to do so please share a story of rejection/humiliation no matter how big or small the rejection was. It’ll be like free therapy! YAY!

Here’s mine:

Sally Sunshine is proud of her ability to seduce, being the Aphrodite charmer hyper-sexual girl that she is. It’s an art that’s been perfected over many desire-induced evenings spent in eternal rapture. Eh, you get the point.

Anyway, many moons ago there was a certain lesbian *who shall remain nameless* who seemed bent on humiliating me. She was of the stoic variety, said very little, but had one of those “penetrating stares” romance novels talk about. She was twice my age and rather butchy. She was cute, but in a non-traditional super-secret spy kind of way.

We had been eyeing each other for some time, but never said a word throughout our exchange of hot n’ heavy glances. Finally, on my birthday, with a killer mini and extra beer in hand, I approached Ms. Elusive. She was, for all purposes, less than thrilled with my overture. My “hey, don’t cha wanna come home with me?” after 3-5 birthday shots wasn’t exactly classy.

She explained she didn’t like to rush things and wanted to get to know me better. I, although pleased she wanted to “know me better”, was not pleased with the reference to “taking our time.” However, I conceded and continued to chat with her. She said later that evening we should leave the bar together and continue our conversation elsewhere, which I considered a small victory. After all, it was my birthday and the mini did look fierce.

However, at the end of the night, when I went to get her, her friends said they weren’t sure where she was at. They thought she may have stepped outside for a minute. So, happily I trotted away leaving my drink on the table next to them. But when I got outside she was no where to be found and her car was gone. A few moments later, the first few rain drops fell. I stood, stunned and hurt in my best birthday outfit, while the rain soaked my face. Rejected and a bit emotional, I went home alone.

On*my*birthday.

** Update: The lesbian *who shall remain nameless* later apologized and we dated briefly, until I left her for a hotter younger chick. Funny how life works.

Moon Madness, Larva, and Beautiful Release

We’re in the midst of a full moon in Scorpio.

Anyone else feeling the burn?

I know I am. Full moons tend to either really energize me or dull-down all my senses to zero point. In particular, this full in Moon in Scorpio opposing the Taurus Sun is a bit like a piece of sandpaper rubbing away to expose raw flesh. Yes, it is fleshy, but not the good kind of fleshy. Don’t get me wrong, I like the Scorps, but let’s all do ourselves a favor and remove ourselves from the lava pit, at least for a few days to regroup. And since I feel like I’ve got a ten ton bulldozer scraping up against the wall of my brain there will be no insightful, witty, or even remotely intelligent commentary today.

But, tomorrow…. tomorrow I will emerge from my cocoon like a butterfly.........

or something like that.

Housekeeping!

It’s about time I update my blog link list. I’ve added a few new ones that I read often, like daily. Thanks for all the good reads ladies, SS

He said he was going to penetrate me with his big green mouth and smoke-filled rainbow cloud.

This is the dream I had last night. Maybe I’m in love with an alien.

The Burden of Being Trapped in a Woman’s Body

Conversational Pieces that Illuminate…..

The scene:

Texas Roadhouse Restaurant

8:30 pm

Dinning Companions, Seven

On Friday night, your girl Sally Sunshine found herself surrounded by a table of conservative Republicans. It was, more or less, your garden variety “we hate gays, feminists, and anything resembling counterculture” crowd. One of the dudes was even wearing cowboy boots. I knew I was out of my comfort zone, but still proceeded to stir shit up anyway. As most of you know, dissent and deviant behavior is a favorite past time of mine.

Actually, the overall mood and conversation was not that hostile. Discussion ranged over a large array of topics like politics, religion, abortion, sexuality, astrology.. all the hot buttons were pushed and nobody got pissed.

However, I knew I was in trouble when the boot guy asked nervously, “So, is astrology like a religion?” To which I responded in kind, “Eh, not exactly young grasshopper, listen and learn.” Ok, so I wasn’t that mean, but I did explain that astrology is not a religion and I am not a Wiccan Priestess.

Next, a polite Harley guy to my right, begin to grill me about my travel habits, interests, profession, and…… abortion?.... Evidently, he must’ve assumed that I had an opinion on the matter. We began by debating the whole ‘when does life begin’ issue. After I thoroughly squelched his argument he moved on to the old fall back, religious justification. This is always a good cop out since none of us can be certain that God even exists or what the ramifications of our actions will be after we leave this planet. My guess is as good as yours, literally.

Anyway.

I attempted to steer the conversation from the invisible guy in the sky theory and back to basics, arguing that in order for women to have any sort of dominion over their lives we need reproductive freedom and choice. I went on to explain that when one’s back is up against the wall of an unplanned pregnancy, all bets are off.

Because we are biologically born women, does that mean we should be prisoners of our bodies? Sure, some experience motherhood as a true blessing and joy, hell it could very well be their life calling. However, some of us recoil at mere thought of having children, or in some cases, just the actual pregnancy portion of the deal. I, for one, have never been excited about the idea of ‘something growing inside of me’, alien invasion anyone? My biases aside, it must be recognized, some of us are just not big fans of being mommies.

This having been said, I asked him to look at the practical side of situation. Typically, the onset of puberty begins for women between 11-13 years old in which menstruation commences. Menopause, then, begins in the late forties after women have completed their childbearing years. For illustrative purposes, let’s assume that first menstruation was at age 13 and menopause at 48. People, that’s 35 freaking years of reproductive potential. 35! During that time, is it plausible that a mistake may be made? I know I’ve forgotten to take my pill in a rush to leave the house in the morning or in hasty drunken stupor had unprotected sex, hell, it happens. Mistakes will be made, errors in judgment will occur, and consequences born out of extreme negligence will ensue. It’s called life.

However, this is not the point. The point is women should have the all the tools (family planning, yearly obg/yn exams, regular contraceptives, emergency contraceptives, and abortion) available to them to exercise the right to pursue their respective destinies with self-determination and dignity.

Most men move through their lives with a relative degree of freedom and anonymity. They do not or cannot understand what it is like to be chained to the burden of biology or the dilemma of being stuck inside a fertile body. For those of us who live with this anxiety constantly (those not wishing to conceive) it’s a pretty fucking weighty paranoia even if you are normally as safe as possible and ignore the fact that humans make mistakes.

These feelings, at least in my case, certainly account for a large portion of that “post sex” guilt/worry. The nagging.. what if, what if, what if that plagues the brain and never ceases to stop. That is, until the next month when I declare victory over biology once again and run screaming from the bathroom, "Thank God, I’m free at last. God Almighty, I’m free at last!"

A Letter to Paul

"She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is wound in mine,
She has the form of my hands,
She has the color of my eyes,
She is swallowed by my shadow
Like a stone against the sky."
– The Beloved, Paul Eluard, co-founder of the surrealist movement

Oh, Paul. How romantic you must’ve been. When you fell for the charming bewitching Gala you fell into her web ever so deeply. And later, when you were disillusioned by the loss of your love to painter Salvador Dali, you left the surrealist movement and aligned with a Stalin- esque philosophy. Melancholy aside, you were instrumental in spreading the word. Surrealism as movement or as a revolutionary way of viewing the world through the artist’s eye flourished during your time. Sure there were others like Andre Breton and Louis Aragon, but you, you were a romantic fellow, tortured but inspired by the gaze of a beautiful muse. And I can appreciate that. The fantasy leaves one suspended in a state of wonder. I could spend my entire life there except at some point I may need to come up for air.

So breathe.

Surrealism week continues with a collection of modern day surrealists:

Cynthia Tom

Finding your Voice


The reluctance to reveal is tempered with defiance.

Conscious contact with the ground


I often dream of black and white checkered floors in vast long halls with the pattern repeating. This one resonates. It’s my favorite here.

Pauline Jones

Dream Parking Spot


Ah.. the human inclination toward incubation

Noriko Ohashi

Three Sisters

Here is the connection, now find your way out of it. Separation is never easy.

Poseidon


Slipping from his wet hands…

LLUIS

Don’t Mess with the Dead


Death.. that old ball n’ chain, can’t quite escape now can we

Dina Lenkovic

The Burning City


morbid truth disguised as art