I'm so bored.

I can feel my organs vibrating, when I'm just sitting here in my house, playing a video game. They don't want to sit still like this. If I gave into it, I'd be twitching here on the couch. My face is having trouble staying calm and blank. It wants to scowl.

I feel a bit trapped in this. It's the problem with being here, away from all the people who want something from me. When I'm at school, I have to be busy. They demand that I do things with them. I never have a moment to myself. It seems I like it that way.

Give me too long sitting alone, I get desperate. I can't interact socially because I feel myself forcing it, needing friends, losing confidence. When I need something to do, when I need people, it's like I can't force myself to be casual, calm, friendly. I'm too needy.

I need to smoke pot. It's the only way I can feel content to just sit.


Oo, Glamorous, Oo, foxy, foxy...

Fergie lyrics aside (yes, well all know she can spell), I'm living in this new house. With views like this from my desk.

I feel oh, so glamorous, sitting here writing about sex as I look out over the city.

I totally need to have sex looking out at this view, yeh? Something about shiny lights always makes me happy when I'm fucking. That and I love sex bent over a desk...

I'm Back, Mothafuckas

I've been home for a while now, about five weeks. I just finally had my audition to start dancing here. (I got the job.) I'd say stripping, but it really is just dancing naked since stripping implies having some clothes on to start with. Hooray, all nudity all the time!!

I am SO FUCKING EAGER TO GET BACK TO WORK. Yes, that's right, all caps. Stripping is sometimes exhausting and very occasionally demoralizing, but I do love it. I miss like hell getting naked in public. I miss feeling totally glamorous and sexxxxxy. I miss putting on makeup and picking out costumes. I love costumes. I miss that face a customer makes, the rapt attention when I catch his (sometimes her) eye. Yeah, it's eye contact that does it. Not titty contact. God, it's a rush. And such a boost to the ol' self esteem.

I'm working in a peep show (and yes I know this means that if you know San Francisco you can probably figure out where) and it's pretty different from my titty bar experiences at school. Obviously, I guess.

I definitely like that the men are masturbating. It makes it much more of a genuinely exhibitionistic experience for me, a sexual thing rather than a business thing. I get to see them while they're seeing me, so there's some reciprocation. I'm big on reciprocation. It's hot, and I get paid for it to boot!

When I auditioned, there was a man moving from booth to booth, getting different view angles on the girls in the show. If you don't know how a peep show works, watch Boondock Saints to get a clearer picture. (Or just watch it because those men are hot and you get to see some gorgeous bare man ass.)

Most of the windows to the booths are about a foot and a half square, enough to see a customer's head and shoulders. There are, however, two booths with bigger windows. When someone is in one of these two booths, we dancers get a full body shot of the customer when the they feed a dollar into the machine that opens the window.

This particular man went from small window to small window for the ten minutes I was dancing. When I went to dance directly in front of him, practicing my fluid movements with slightly atrophied muscles, I could see his shoulders jerking from his hand below jacking himself off. When I made smiling sexy faces at him, he licked his lips back at me.

Some people I guess would find that gross, but like I said I love reciprocity. His tongue looked soft. After I'd been dancing for some time, he moved into one of the big booths. He was wearing baggy clothes, a trucker hat. Your basic ghetto fabulous wardrobe. He stood sideways to the window so I could see that his cock was sticking out from his unzipped pants. He didn't pull anything down or off, just took his cock out, all bare on its own.

It was the kind of cock I like: average length but thick with a lovely spongy head. I was dancing in front of him, watching him play with it when the woman running my audition stuck her head into the room and called me back out again. I missed him coming, I'm sure messily onto the wall of the booth.

God, I missed dancing.

First Day of Summer

And boy can you tell. It's hot here. Really hot. And this is weird in San Francisco.

I'm freakin' boiling. It's partly because I'm babysitting the store front of the gallery where I volunteer. There is absolutely no air flow here, so I'm sitting in my own sweat, basically. Bleh.

I'm glad, though, on one front. If this keeps up until Sunday, when I have a day off, I'll get to go to the beach and it'll be perfect weather for that. It'll be crowded and jolly and probably saturated with sun and alcohol. My favorite kind of beach day.

I want to sit in the sand, drink beer, and feel a slightly cool breeze while I bake under my SPF 40 sunscreen. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.


I'm not a once-a-day kind of blogger.

For me, writing comes when it comes. I get inspired, and then suddenly I've got to write a whole ton and I sit there scribbling or typing madly until the tiny madwoman in my brain tells me I'm done. And then maybe I publish some of that here.

That said, I would like to start posting more regularly. Writing is great fun and it would probably alleviate some of the boredom I get from just sitting there watching TV or reading a magazine or whatever in the small periods of time between activities.

I'm feeling ever so restless lately, and while I know it'll get better once I get back to dancing, I need more to occupy my mind.

I'm Sick

And not in the fun, "Oh, you're a pervert" way.

In the when I say "my nose is stuffed up" it sounds like "by dose is sduffet up" kind of way. You know, the way where I can actually see the glands in my neck. The head throbbing kind of sick.

Apparently there is something going around, and if I believed in curses or revenge I'd be placing a nasty one on the descendants of whoever gave me this piece of sick. But I'm way too nice for that.

I hate being sick, because all it amounts to is a refusal by my body to work, to do what I want it to do. Including have sex, dance, speak properly, take walks, or simply carry me without pain up and down the stairs. My brain is still functioning. I still want to be doing stuff. But I can't.

Therefore, I shall be holed up with a movie or Tomb Raider or talking quietly to whoever I can get to keep me company (anyone feel like hangin' out with a sick chick?) for the next few days. This one doesn't feel like a 24 hour bug. (Dammit.)

Oo, Dammit, I Missed Female Desire Week

But that doesn't mean I can't make a belated contribution.

I found the boys here (by exterface) through another blog, but I can't remember which one.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go masturbate.


P. S. I got the SG photos from their free tour, so I think they're pretty open source. IE I'm hoping I don't get in trouble for having them here. Ditto the exterface stuff. If anyone sees these and has a problem, just ask and I'll take them down. Click the pics to find more hotness on each site.


I don't like the idea of mental disorders. I've mentioned this before. The concept of diagnosing of a brain that we know so VERY little about gives me the heebie jeebies.

That said, they tell me I have ADHD.

I have discovered that one of the things this "disorder" makes difficult is getting to appointments where I'm supposed to be prescribed medicine for said "disorder". (The meds help, sigh, they really do. And no, I don't take them all the time. And no, I don't sell them.)

But seriously.

Today I was a half hour late for my shrink-y appointment because I lost track of time and left too late. He wasn't there when I got there.

This is the SECOND time this has happened. I had an ADD-meds appointment at school a couple months ago. Forgot to go. Then I forgot to call and schedule another one.

I am a toooootal space case.

(Speaking of which, I have a couple of blog posts in the make, I swear. They shall be forthcoming. Sometime soon. I promise.)

Poly What?

I do not like monogamy.

I've been in long term relationships. I love intimacy and cuddling and comfort and even commitment, when I get to it. I like living with a lover; I like waking up in the morning to kissing and sex and conversation. I like to debrief at the end of my day with someone I care about and trust. I am looking, constantly, for someone I can share a deep bond with.

But I don't like monogamy. Even when I am in those loving, intimate relationships, I still want sex and excitement outside of them. My animal attraction to other people does not, for me, detract from my feelings towards my partner. In fact, being able to talk about and share the crazier aspects of my life and sexuality makes me feel closer to them. Jayme Waxman wrote in her blog the other week about having a monogamous heart but not a monogamous groin. That's what my anatomy looks like, too.

Through Jayme's post, I found Tristan Taormino's new website (and book) Opening Up. It's a resource site for those who don't want to practice monogamy.

Whenever I stumble upon things like this, a part of me wants to cry with relief. I feel like I am constantly trying to explain myself to everyone. It's hard for anyone to reject monogamy, and I deal with so much misunderstanding and prejudice, especially as a woman. It's so nice to run across other people who go through and can speak about the same things.

I am so tired of feeling guilty for not wanting monogamy. I often feel like there is something wrong with me, that I couldn't handle a monogamous relationship even if I tried. It feels like a failure that I "can't not cheat." I often find myself falling for people who do want monogamy, and I have to tear that apart because in my experience it can't work. People tend not to change their minds.

It's like being "poly" (look up polyamory on Wikipedia if you don't know what this means) for me is similar to what being gay feels like for other people. I never had much trouble with my sexual orientation; I'm from the San Francisco area and was always pretty comfortable being bi. Trying to negotiate and come out of the closet with polyamory, however, feels like such a struggle. I sometimes wish I could feel comfortable being monogamous. "Normal."

Lately, I've been doing much better. My last relationship was with someone who was open to the idea of, well, openness. We aren't really together anymore, but that's due to external circumstances (location mostly). I think we were doing a pretty good job of negotiating relationship boundaries and working with each other. I have been claiming my non-monogamy and trying to be proud of it. Hopefully I can keep that up.


My Women's Studies honors thesis adviser has me pegged.

"You're so independent that sometimes you just don't give a shit."


Nice to hear someone else saying "independent" instead of "lazy" or "stubborn."

Eroticizing Patriarchy Makes It Stronger My Ass

The idea that eroticizing something solidifies it in your mind, protects it from critical thinking, and maintains the power structures that resulted in that eroticization does not ring true to me.

I just realized this.

I am very critical of the things I eroticize. I try and figure out why I do it. I want to know where the little kinks come from and why they've become sexy and I'm constantly analyzing my feelings about sex and my sexual actions. Yeah, I don't always change what I do based on what I figure out. Sometimes it's okay for me to eroticize something like power relations or patriarchy because I know that's what I'm doing. It's a way of dealing with my feelings about these things, it lets me reclaim them. Sex is something over which I have control. If I can exercise control over an area where I am powerless by making it a sexual thing, kudos to me.

So yes, I do sometimes eroticize patriarchal things. I know this. I am feminine and a bottom in sex. I like it when others initiate sex and are in control. Some of that is because I am a girl and I have been harassed for being a "slut" and I'm afraid to show sexual desire. I don't want to be treated badly as a result of my sexuality, so I am more wont to let someone else approach me. There are other reasons, like the fact that I'm very reserved in general, but I acknowledge that it's largely my reaction to being put down because I'm a woman.

I do (usually successfully) challenge myself with this. I definitely can and have and do approach people with the intention of romancing or seducing them. But I also allow myself to be turned on by someone approaching me, by someone else being the top during sex, by letting go of control. I don't think my continued enjoyment here is undermining my understanding of its source.

Another note:

I like to be tied up because as I said I am very very reserved...restrained, real life. I do not let go of control, I am very driven, I am powerful, and I'm almost always on guard. I talked a couple weeks ago about how I keep my feelings close to my vest. I like to be restrained (by a man or a woman, I have no preference here) because when I am physically restrained I feel psychologically freer. I don't have to rely any more on my psychological restraints because I am held in physical ones. It feels safer and risky and hot all at the same time, and even allows me to get closer to my partner. It is closely tied in with trust and emotion.

This has nothing to do with eroticizing patriarchy. I thought about that. I've had to deal with it as I've been learning about feminism and creating my opinions on sex and gender and relationships and then trying to apply them to my own life. I don't think anyone should be dismissing certain behaviors as necessarily or inherently patriarchy-induced because we can't know the root of a behavior unless we're the one doing it. We should all have the right to decide for ourselves.

On Cocks

Meet Sparky the Dildo

I don't remember the first time I saw a hard cock in person. That's not because I've been exposed to them for my whole life or anything. I do know when it happened, when I first caught a glimpse at that poking manly appendage. I was fifteen and I had a new boyfriend.

What I don't remember is seeing it, or my reaction, or what I did with it. I didn't know this was the date of my first cock-sighting until years later, when I was talking to my ex.

"Oh yeah, well, we had oral sex on our first date, too."

"Oh really? I'd forgotten that."

I know, though, that this was the first time I saw an erect dick in person. I guess I'd seen enough of them on the internet at that point that it wasn't that remarkable to me. Yeah, I'm sure I enjoyed his reaction when I messed with it, but I didn't particularly like the thing. And that's been my relationship with The Cock for a long time. Yeah, they're kind of weird. They twitch and shit, and they're hard under the skin and soft on top. I like them inside me, I like them in my mouth, I like playing with them, but visually and psychologically they never did that much for me.

Until recently. Maybe I'm just hornier lately because I've been getting a lot of play. Maybe I've just been around some attractive cocks. Could be I was repressing my inner cock love and I'm finally comfortable to let it out. In any case, I can't get enough of them these days.

I like the way they look. I like their texture. I like the taste (although I'm still not a huge cum-taste fan). I like the balls, their weight and the way there is extra skin surrounding the little egg-shaped testes inside. I like the way you can feel the bulb of the penis running under the balls, through to the other side. I like how that gets hard, too, and I can play with it. I like the tight skin on the pelvis around the penis, the soft hair.

Dick colors are fascinating; I like the veins under the surface and the way the head is often slightly differently colored than the shaft. I like the seam that runs along the bottom of the shaft, particularly near the top where it bunches up in that little dip at the bottom of the head. I like the way my fingers or my lips catch on the edge of the head when I'm pulling them upwards on a cock.

I like it all. Yay cocks!

My Body Image

So I'm obsessing over how I look at lot lately. Not in an "I need to get thin, I'm too fat!" way, but in a "my hair looks weird, I don't feel feminine, I'm in a city so I should be stylish, should I wear more dresses? comparing myself to other women" kind of way. Which makes me feel awfully silly and also very self conscious.

I'm a young woman. For all my feminist leanings and scoffings at the beauty myth, I haven't escaped its clutches. Clutches! It's got me! Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!

But seriously, it's driving me crazy. I know it's because I'm alone, away from my friends and all of that. I don't have the solidity within myself to maintain my self-image without other people around and other things to do to distract me. Sad.

I really wish I could just not think about it, not have that lovely running commentary in my head about who is looking at me and what they will think. Because for all that I try to be an independent, confident woman, that is what it's about. What other people are seeing.

Makes me want to rap myself on the back of the knuckles and go "Bad A! No over-valuing the opinions of others! Bad! Bad!"
On living, loving, learning, and fucking with the materials I've got at hand.

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