Hamilton's "Burn" is My Therapy

I've recently taken to listening to the 2nd Act of Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda after work these days. I skip around to these songs: "Take a Break," "Say No to This," "The Reynolds Pamphlet," and "Burn."  It's all the betrayal / break up songs.
I'll admit that I've had a history of obsessing or feeling attracted more than I should towards people despite being in a committed relationship. How does my husband put up with me? How does he continue to trust me? Because I've never actually acted on it? Too understanding of my psychological development due to the nurturing of my upbringing? --shakes head--
But my listening to these songs has nothing to do with any feelings about anyone. I think my adventures into fetishism and porn has in some ways helped divert some of that energy / obsessive need for escapism and chaos. A lesser evil? Not sure. But here I am in regards to that.
No, I realized this week that my obsession with these…

Missing Out--A Flash Fiction Look at the Obsession with Male Toxicity

So I've been feeling rather frustrated with the whole male toxicity chatter. So I decided to write some fiction about it to help me process my opinion. 
If politics aren't your thing, there's some hot, hetero erotica in the 2nd half! 
It's in a PDF format. Follow this link to read it: Missing Out
Much love, and let me know your thoughts!

Vanishing Box

I had a box and then it vanished into thin air.

I have now moved to my 4th department in 2 years at the same company (it's a big company). And to each department, I have carried around this box filled with various things (mostly decorative). The last 2 departments, I didn't even bother unpacking it. It just sat in a corner. In one department, I was just too busy and never got around to it. And, if you've followed this blog, you know that I no intention of even staying in that last position. So when I got the notice to move my belongings to my new office (which is very spacious), I grabbed the box and headed over.

My last memory of the box is holding it in front of my office door, which was locked. I assume I sat it down to unlock the door. I assume I walked in to set my bag down. And I assume I got distracted by something, forgot it was outside my door, didn't notice it when I left for the day, and that it was thrown out by the cleaning crew.

But I'll never know.



It seems... no it is...
Things in flux. I think of the word transitioning... but transitioning suggests that there is a beginning and an end...
And I guess there are...
Maybe I don't like beginnings and ends, so I ignore them...
Or maybe because it just always lingers in my mind and in my past... it's never gone, never ends.
And the anxiety of what's to come and what's to come back again...

I spent the weekend with my parents. They pulled out all there tricks to suck me back down again. As the sun set, the old ways crept up on me.  The bottle looked sweeter and sweeter. The knives looked oh so gentle. But oh... I know this is only in comparison to their treachery. Bullying me down to give them the answer they don't want to hear; only so they can turn it around and blame me, tell me I'm being ridiculous, and it's all in my head.

Of course it is. But none the less it is. It's in the past... but the memory of my mother's gaze on my naked body creeps up…

When Bodies Move Perfectly

I've always said that I like to people watch... listen in on conversations and watch body language. Learning how people are is always fascinating, but it can be intense too. People carry a lot of emotions where ever they go... and most of time I want my people watching to be relaxing.

This is really something I've narrowed down recently. I found a lot of enjoyment recently watching 2 particular bad boys on the web.

1. Sergei Polunin--scrolling through Google+, someone had posted a video of Sergei Polunin doing ballet to "Take Me to Church" by Hozier. (You can watch it here.) I watched it over and over again. The complete control of every millimeter of muscle was intoxicating. The back arches, the body holds firm and relinquishes, and the struggle to maintain (both literally and figuratively). And I know that that dance didn't happen without years and years of focus, practice, and body transformation. And there's a certain amount of fuck you I'm dancing my…

Origins of My Fetishes

So I've been thinking a lot about my fetishes lately. On a "Where did they come from?" thought process. I have a hard time believing that anything is just straight nature. I believe that our nurture plays a large part in shaping who we are, using the genetic code as a foundation.

A basic internet research led me to this article on Psychology Today: "Survival of the Fetish". I focused in on the part that described how traumatic/emotional experiences help in the creation, as well as, early associations that correlate with the development of sexual feelings.

So let's analyze me!

1. Coffee-- So I mentioned this in a Google+ post that I am really into coffee porn. That watching videos of coffee being made gives me an erotic experience... not that I cum or anything, but it definitely gets me aroused and ready to go.  So,where did this come from? When I was in high school, I hung out with a group of friends. We were all aspiring writers and poets. I would do slam …


So for this week's blog post, I am going to point you in the direction of a new short story I posted to my website called Yellow. It's a sci-fi shounen-ai/boys love story (so more about intimacy and connection, and no sex--my other stories have sex if you want something a little more smutty).

So, I have a fascination with non-verbal communication: body language, sign language, facial expressions, written word. My process from thought to verbalizing is rather slow, my anxiety hinders my ability to create a functional sentence on the spot, and I am rather self-conscious of the whole thing.

However, the written word is very fluid to me. And I have time and space if I need it.

So this is one of two stories that really focuses on non-verbal communication. The other is Say It With Voice.It was like the first yaoi I ever wrote... so... yeah. lol. It's about a senior in high school who has used sign language most of his life to communicate. His best friend is coming home from coll…