A FOND, FOND FAREWELL

The time has come, Goddesses and readers, for this blog to self-destruct. And since I am the one who began it all with a few clicks of the mouse, I will do the same to end it.

I have, however, learned a valuable lesson from my fellow Goddesses -- that to just disappear is hurtful. To delete, to cancel one's account, to disappear. They have assured me that there is a better way, and so here I am trying to find it.

So to you all I offer the fondest of farewells. This blog has been hysterically funny at times, wildly imaginative, and I have learned about all of you in small ways -- which is a gift I never take for granted.

I will keep this one short and sweet and I will leave this post up for one week. In the meantime, please know how much you all have meant to me -- even in criticism, even in conflict, maybe especially in those times... -- and be well.

LIBIDO

Many years ago, I was lamenting the fact that my libido was higher than Zeus'. I bought books called "The Sex- Starved Marriage" and "Overcoming Passive- Aggressive Behavior." We talked, we processed. We came to agreements where I would get more sex. They never quite panned out.

What amazes me is how things grow over the course of a marriage.

All of those old laments have been replaced by different ones. We have come together sexually -- better late than never, as the old adage goes.

Turns out it wasn't a libido issues after all. It had nothing to do with drive and everything to do with maturity and the ability to accept and forgive, to love.

Those things weren't in the books.

defending my soul

i am proud of myself.

for years, literally, i have let others dictate my plans and my actions. i have let everyone else's dreams and needs be realized and achieved. i have worked hard to help those around me, namely spouses (yes, both of them), find that pot of gold at the end of the long, hard-traveled rainbow.

when i married my first husband it was financially responsible for him to finish school first, he was a lot farther ahead and so i readily agreed to a steady five year plan. i then proceeded to do what any good wife would do in that situation, i got two jobs and made sure i cheered him on as he trudged through class after class trying to achieve a degree in accounting. i accepted a lot of the daily responsibilities of our marriage, happily, because i knew that sacrificing would pay off in the end.

i pictured a nice house minus the picket fence. picket fence's really are not my thing. i pictured the best fertility doctor's after baby-making trouble arose. good schools that would be needed after those fertility specialists helped to bear the fruit i wanted. i pictured my own college degree alongside baby blankets and booties. i envisioned seeing the foreign parts of the world that beckon to me and living a long, wonderful life with a great husband. i saw the give and take working out perfectly! my life was mapped with never a worry or a care.

guess what? i was wrong. really fucking wrong.

jd (husband number one) was five months post degree when we called it quits. my sacrificing got me nothing but a jaded attitude about marriage, an iron-clad promise to myself that i would finish college, and an even stronger vow that if i was unable to have children i would NOT wallow in the pity of what i would never have, but rather take a different road; a less traveled, but just as meaningful road, to me.

yesterday, there was a very open and painful discussion between mister and i about how i will achieve those aspirations. painful because i feel like what i want, no, what i need to thrive in my life, is never taken into consideration as long as our life is undisturbed and stagnant. if we are just so, then all is right within our tiny, suburban life.

i fucking disagree.

i will no longer feel guilty for wanting to live up to the potential that lives inside of me. i will no longer feel selfish, because i want more for my life. yes, i have a good life with a great husband and step child, but those things will never be enough if i can not obtain the few things my heart desires most other than biological children. i will not be happy with the blessings in front of my face unless i can have one tiny piece of the world that i earned.

one tiny piece i can call my very own.

*******
if you read this on my other blog (indelible wench), then please excuse me, but i felt i needed to repeat myself. it's not a reminder for you, dear reader, but for myself. i can and will have that tiny morsel of the world i desire more than anything and it shall be called mania.

HEADACHE

I had a lovely night out with friends, drank some red wine and came home to a request that I position myself over my lover's face and just enjoy. A terrific evening from start to finish.

I pay for my sins with a headache, right between the eyes, slightly to the left. A headache no amount of water, coffee, or Motrin will touch.

A reminder that there is a fine, fine line between pleasure and pain.

Every Woman Has A Piece Of Aphrodite

But i ain't feeling it now. I know that even bitchtits gets the blues, but it's more than that right now. I'm juggling and i simply don't have enough arms to keep all my massive balls in the air. 'Cause, yeah, bitchtits has the balls, too.

*Massive sigh* I am struggling for balance. As i juggle being mother, wife, musician, scholar, teacher, slut, poet and fool another ball has been added. After seven years of self proclaimed orphanhood, i am again a daughter. I don't even know where to begin with this. My mother lives more than five hours away, and i want to be there right now. However, the Tots don't even know they have a new grandmother yet.

Compounding my feelings of imbalance is my desire yet inability to write. I want to write a couple of stories; i need to write some poetry. However, i don't have the quietude around me to milk the grand teat of creativity. All i can do is stroke it a little and hope that it stays primed.

If i were to take a day off from everything, that wouldn't be enough. I would need at least twelve hours unencumbered just to frolic and catch my breath. To wish that is more than futile.

On top of ALL of this, i have PMS. Which technically means that bitchtits should be acting like a she cat in estrus. Instead, i'm struggling with that, too. I want him to come after me; fuck the shit out of me; make me ache and cry out. I'm tired of being the coy, flirtatious cocksucker.

Struggling for balance, gasping for breath, unable and unwilling to drop any of my precious balls because they are ALL necessary parts of me.

Less sleep is not an option.

A POLL: What's Your Frequency, Kenneth?

God, I can't stop with the high school rock tonight.

But I am wondering -- how often are you having sex? Just curious, really. Please leave your answer in the comments. And I do mean sex with another human being. Oral counts as sexual relations, thankyouverymuch Mr. Clinton.

Just feeling slightly voyeuristic, i suppose. What's the frequency in your love den?

The Wisdom Of The Bitchtits

I love how woman is seen in three main incarnations throughout her life. Maiden, mother, crone; we live the first so short a period, and spend the greater part of our lives as mother. Although i draw ever closer to the crone, she is still a mystery to me.

Some of us spend the time as mother wasted and out of touch with mother's sister, mother's little sidestep. Some of us miss out on the joy of being a whore. When you think about it, all life is commerce. Why should a marriage or partnership be any different? I know that i trade goods and services for other goods and services. I work for cheap, too. A little praise, a little loving, a night out once in a while, and i'm good to go.

Lately, i've been in full throttle mother mode. Cook, cook, cook, clean, clean, clean, mother mother, mother. These things are good and fine, but the whore has been quietly hungry. Maybe out of respect for the topsy turvy nature of my life lately, she's kept her whore mouth shut. At least she did until this morning. As i readied myself for a doctor's appointment, i was struck by the fact that Tater and i need to fuck. Tonight. Now!

He must have read my thoughts. Before he headed out to work, he dragged me into the bedroom, pushed me up against the wall, and said, "When are you gonna give me some pussy?" as he ground against me.

In true whore fashion i said, "As soon as you come home at a decent hour. Mama needs her breauty sleep." (Yeah, he's been late a LOT, and even when he's not we're fairly exhausted.)

So all of you: Be a whore today. Use sex to get what you want. I'm gonna use mine for more sex.

It's a gottdamned beautiful thang.