My Shitty Daddy Dom

This is my experience with one person I met on a different site. It is a cautionary tale from my perspective. Take what you need or want from my words and form your own opinion.

Internet based relationships are so common today, I believe people rarely take the time to consider there is a live person, a human being on the other end of that chat ID. Really, I swear, there is. Maybe you know this in theory, but it is something that is easy to forget.

I knew someone who didn't put that connection together. Granted he was a self-proclaimed asshole and stuff like that was why he announced it with pride. I found his view rather douchy and we are no longer speaking to one another.

So, I was going about what I do, which is write porn, when I come across someone who interested me. I observed their postings on a forum and got a feel for them before I made contact. We exchanged a few instant messages back and forth and after about a month we even exchanged phone numbers.

He identified himself as a Daddy Dom and polyamorous. Neither of these identifiers are true of this jerk. He’s on the ‘down low’. He is married, publicly and socially ‘heterosexual’ while indulging in adulterous usually homosexual extra marital affairs according to his own words.

The reason I didn’t see any of this at first is because I’d always thought that ‘down low’ guys were men who were closeted homosexuals, and although not every case is the same, usually what is really going on is they’re self-serving entitled assholes who want their cake and to eat it too without giving any consideration or respect to their spouse.

So, um, sorry about that, but back to my story. Mr. Jerkoff and I talked at length about what his current relationship status was, 'married, but unhappy', where his tastes lie, the particulars, pet peeves, etc. all the things two people getting to know each other discuss.

Something that should have sent up a red flag at the time was the 'married, but unhappy'. I have a personal policy about that one, where if a guy is 'married, but unhappy' I have no intention of moving our interactions to a RL environment. In other words, I will not help you cheat on you partner without their consent. I’m upfront and honest about my rule. I can't be convinced to break it, no matter what someone says or promises me.

Usually, I wouldn't even have gone phone # exchange with a ‘married, but unhappy’, but in this case, I bent my own rule. Mistake number one. In my defense, I liked him. I enjoyed our chats. He stimulated my mind. He appeared vulnerable, yet strong, and our chats were the highlight of my stressful day. I felt as if I could share my thoughts with him easily without fear of judgement. I received such support from him, I let him talk me into going for it, the phone calls I mean. I had to hear the voice behind the words.

So we spoke on the phone and it was satisfying and enjoyable and I let him into parts of me I'd never shared with a single soul, including myself. It was addictive, something I craved, wanted, no needed daily, hourly, every waking moment. Another month goes by and I give serious consideration to throwing my little rule out. Rules are made to broken and he seemed so worth it.

It was a two-way street, I wasn't having a stalker moment at the time. He said all the right things and I truly believed and trusted the words that poured out the tiny speaker of my cell phone. I was happy, he was happy things were great and then, suddenly and without warning he stopped.

The morning greeting via IM just disappeared one day. Out of the blue, just gone. For the first two days, I was like, hmmm, okay, he's busy. He has a wife. Stuff could be happening. Maybe he really doesn't have time to drop me a simple, "Good Morning" via IM. I didn’t know. I continued my morning virtual wave and tried not to let it bother too much.

Then as the end of the first week approached and even the two "Hey, are you okay?"s received no response either, I was worried something had happened to him. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but seriously, I had no information to go on. Finally, frustrated, confused, and worried I broke our agreement and sent the following unsolicited text message to his cell phone, "Are you alive?"

Mistake on my part # 2, was agreeing to that particular rule. I mean, yes, I was chatting and then talking to a 'married, but unhappy' man. I was not allowed to send him a text unless he gave me permission to do so. This sent up a red flag, but like I said, I was already past the point of no return. I liked him that much.

That text message got an immediate response. I was admonished for sending it, as I knew I would be. He was fine, but very busy with work and there was a situation with the wife and he'd call me later that night. Two hours later, he calmed all my fears via phone and I was satisfied with this and we moved forward. This pattern repeated off and on over the course of the next month and finally I was done with it. I told him we could still be friends, but the phone calls stopped.

I did the things I needed to do to protect my fragile heart. I said I was pulling back, I'd gone too far and I didn't even want contact going forward for a while. Only problem with this course of action was I’d gotten something out of it all and I wished we could go back to where we had been months earlier, even though I was the one who’d cut off contact.

Then as if to pour salt into my wound he began publicly flaunting a new relationship on that other website I mentioned. I gotta admit, that hurt me on a level I didn’t understand. Either way, it was an ego bruising harsh reality, but some guys are dicks, not all of them, or even the majority of them, but occasionally you’re going to come across a few.

All of this was the inspiration for the following piece titled ‘Cyber Fuck’.

Cyber Fuck

At first it was me,
That's not true.
At first it was HER,
then it was you.

And I want to understand, I don't want to care. I don't want to hate or hurt or care. I don't need to see, and I see the way you say you would love me. And I want to feel secure. So I open to you. I let you see me. But not all of me. I let you see the lost me. The hurting me. The little girl who needs what only you can be. The loving, safe and secure Daddy. I crawl into your lap and let your arms wrap around me, and hold me. and I open to you, I let you see all of me. The most fragile part of me there is. The part of me that is there to give. The frightened piece of me that no one else is allowed to see.

Then I see HER. I see her, and she's not just one person. She's many women to you. She's your daughter. She's your wife. And I see you love HER. She's your friend. She's your lover. She's your mistress. There's my heart, on display to you. Trusted to you, and only you.

And so I knock at the walls that I've built around my heart. And I let it beat with something it hasn't seen, or felt or even known in years. And then I see you with HER. And I'm missing you, and hurting and then you do this thing. You cyber fuck HER, in front of me. And you know, because I've told you it will hurt me. And that when it hurts me you said it was nothing. That SHE means so little to you, that you're just trying to be a good person, to HER. That SHE needs you. I want to understand that, and not hurt because of it. But I can't. I just can't. Because I gave you more than I knew I had to give. And just like HIM, you hurt me too.

And so SHE comes between us. So I say that I won't care. I try to put the wall back up. And protect the fragile little thing I call a heart. And for a moment, for a second I believe that you really don't mean to hurt me.

Then I see you and SHE. SHE and you. And it hurts. My heart, the thing I know in my head must be protected. Because my body can't live without it, bleeds as you cyber fuck HER.

I bought the bricks today. I won't look, so I won't see HER...And I have a different hope. A new hope. I hope it never hurts again. That I cannot be cut, or slashed, or torn by YOU...

Me, Myself & Men...

When I question my sexuality, sexuality rarely answers back. I decided to take a break from men and define myself as Asexual when I was already in the early stages of menopause. In other words already in the middle of a mid-life crisis might as well go all the way. I'm just starting the next phase of my writing career, working on a lifestyle change as it pertains to my diets and on top of all of that trying to quit smoking. My body said 'no' so violently I recently spent two weeks in the hospital. More of my Higher Power laughing at my plans or am I so close to successful baby steps a warning to prepare for the war? I don't know for sure yet.

I feel like I'm transitioning between ugly duckling syndrome to swan like beauty. Finally a good friends advice is coming into play, "You'll get comfortable in your skin as you approach forty." Most days I don't mind calling myself 'single & lovin' it'. I'm open minded but have my preferences when it comes to men. Recently I found myself in the closest sexual relationship I've had to date. It's like I woke up in the middle of it, looked around and went 'oh yeah, the other shoe needs to drop' and as soon as I did it kicked my ass something fierce.

I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve so I didn't realize I was overboard in love and drowning until my life preserver got hard to see. That was about a year ago. Something about 16 years of friendship kept me going back for more punishment and not the good kind. I mean, yes, I'm a masochist and proud of it. But this was down right confusing and suffocating, I don't go for that breath play portion of my fetish. So what do you do when you think you've met Mr. Right and he turns out to be Mr. Right Now? I go back to my mother's advice and get used to rejection once again. This time with a sigh out loud.

How do I determine what song to sing? For me it depends so much more on my peer group, than when instead of flying I'd rather er, uh, get wiggy with it. Sometimes I want to be brave around men and instead I find I'm shy and closed off. If I find a guy cute I tend to blush. I have a similar reaction to very pretty women. As for me I've felt hetero-flexible for a long time, but recent events have me categorizing myself as Asexual. In other words, time to sex toy shop once again. *sigh*

The fact is overall it was a friendship that turned into more but when our vision of the future didn't mean together anymore it was time for me to move on. I ended up feeling thrown away for a bit. 17 years of friendship is valuable so I'm hoping that I can salvage that precious portion of the relationship and so far, things were settling back into that comfort zone. Then anger I didn't even realize I had about the way things played out, well, I've also been struggling with the emotion battlefield of my last posting. In the simplest terms, I need more time to heal from my broken heart.

Lucky for you my dear readers I've decide to release the break on my budding career to see if it will flourish or fail. I'm also hoping to secure a second job in case my plans aren't quite what my Source has in store for me. I'm hoping to publish Forced to Change this year. I'm back to the copy editing stage again so I'm hopeful this marathon is finally in it's last leg so I can start the next race career wise.

I'm now competing with my peers for that oh so awesome prize of NY Times Best Selling Author. Okay so I'll start smaller, but it doesn't hurt to dream out loud. I would be disappointed but not defeated if I don't get to the publishing milestone this year with FTC. I'm still in the planning stage for the follow up Changed by Time. I don't know what tomorrow may bring I do know that I hope this is the year to rise as it pertains to my career...So when told to 'go fuck myself' I decided it was time to do just that. Hello Masturbation Bedroom!!!

Marketing/Networking In Modern Times: Golfing vs. Gaming?

I consider myself a child of the letter ‘M’ not the ‘X-Y’ Generation because of MacGyver & MTV. In other words, sorta a Millennial just a bit older. Plus as my PIC likes to tell people, I’m a Liar, er, excellent Creative Editor of some of the details of my life. Note to my younger readers, Richard Dean Anderson ran around for an hour each week on my TV set saving the world by using his intelligence, Mr. Wizard’s World-style science tricks and a lone Swiss Army knife to get him out of sticky life/death situations between 1985-1992. Not to be confused with RDA’s role on the TV series Stargate: SG-1. The forementioned character’s name? Secret Agent Angus MacGyver.

He was a pretty to look at leather wearing badass and wicked smart. He got the girl, lost the girl, got a new girl, basic 80’s TV drama 101. I think the show MythBusters got its start disproving awesome MacGyver Universe Scientific Explanations. Week after week the handy pocketknife was the only thing that stood between the hero and certain death. Today’s equivalent is Scorpion which airs on CBS. CBS is considering a MacGyver reboot too.

I did a blogpost years ago about my formula for fiction. As a writer, I find it’s a multi-layered hidden code that I try to break. Some genres work like vampire fiction, romance, sci-fi, etc. I have to figure out what I want to write about, but I also need to know why I’m writing certain themes over and over again. I’ve been writing since I was 7 years old. What you may not know about me is that is also the age I stopped being molested. Accidently I discovered my talent for the written word by picking a path to deal with painful events in my life. I survived them and turned those experiences into what I believe is something positive.

I do enjoy telling people I meet in person, “I write porn!” I’ve mentioned before this is a marketing tool. I like to push the envelope from time to time, throw an average person off their game. I want to be remembered. Now that I finally have taken that scary step of purchasing business cards, I can use them instead of my one-liner. For me it really depends on the person and my mood, but it usually leaves a random individual laughing. So I’ve decided to continue to drop the line.

These days you have to have a battle plan, a course of action to get remembered. If you have goals of selling your body, er, uh body of work, yeah that’s it, to other people get your hustle on. It is part luck, right place, right time, right person to help you achieve the next level in your climb to fame and money. In my case, current high priority goal? New York Times Best Selling Author. My day to day troubles are I’m trying to make it to tomorrow.

As far as I can tell, most people prefer to accept cold hard cash in exchange for things like a roof over my head, food, hot water, etc. As the saying goes, “In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash”. In other words, some days I have to be a responsible adult. Dammit! Adulting sucks, but it’s the way the world works for me so far. I also pray on my desires, push my intentions out to the universe and hope for the best outcome. Or, I thank Goddess I’m an Atheist and keep it moving forward. You know me my loyal 8 followers, I love to cover all bets. Speaking of gambling, just so ya know, as a babygirl who loves her mocha/caramel skin tone, I always bet on Black to win.

I mean yeah, I could bitch and moan about being a member of the born a Black Woman Club. Hey, I didn't pick it! That was on my parents and my mom's choice to have me as a parasite on her body for 9 long months. My bio-dad had other ideas as to how my mom became pregnant, apparently he missed Sex Ed that day when he attended school. I heard a rumor from my favorite Auntie that a bed was broken the night of my creation. She was quite pissed about it because it was in her guest room at the time.

My ethnic ancestry has shown throughout history people of color, especially the ladies haven’t always been treated the best by other human beings. Or I can use these documented injustices to fuel my creative passions. I count myself lucky to not have experienced rape and I can relate to men/women who have been a victim of that crime. So I write about it.

Personally, I narrowly escaped that same fate at 7 years old right before I learned to fight back against my abusers. I had no choice but to stop the sexual violence in my life. I chose to believe the rumor that most pedophiles don’t survive long in the prison system. I’ve recently changed my thinkin’ on this topic which I will address in my next blog post, working title. You Drank What? How I Found My Sexual Power! Through my writing I’m a champion of my causes. I tackle the abuses of black women first, but I hope that my words apply and help victims in general.

Personally, I try to take full responsibility for my actions, even when caught doing something authority figures deem bad, naughty, wrong. Oh my, a spanking? “Yes, please and thank you! May I have another?” my inner drunken babygirl answers a little too loudly. Fortunately/unfortunately for me this is the only way I know to be the best me I can be.

Other than Putt-Putt Golf I have no interest in golfing. I played the www.pogo.com version for awhile but mostly I find that game boring as all get out. Yes I think Tiger Woods is nice to look at, but unfortunately for him my bio dad thought Tiger was an ideal life mate for me. That means he has never been on my ‘Celebrities 2 Fuck’ list. If that wasn’t enough, Tiger’s reported treatment of his romantic partners sent him to the ‘No Chance Ever’ list with a quickness.

I drive a Ford truck for its symbolism to me. 'Fix Or Repair Daily' is sometimes suggested as an acronym for these car makers, for me, I prefer the slogan 'Built Ford Tough'. That’s the thing about good marketing. It’s why I continue to be a proud Ford Truck owner. Dante 2 and I have been rolling around the US for over 10 years now. For about 8 months he was the only home I owned. Dante the sequel has proven himself dependable except for the need to replace the battery from time to time. He pimps The Devil’s Panties with 2 bumper sticks, “Being silly keeps me sane!” and “Time is like a zombie. It moves slow, but all of a sudden 'Boo! Got your brains!'”

If you live in the Portland, OR area you may have seen Jennie’s car. It is covered in fun quote bumper sticks and has a beautiful octopus trying to eat it. She’s a valuable resource in my life on the how-to self-pimpin’/market your artwork. I check her out daily as a matter of ritual and have even purchased her work. Though a perk of our friendship is I used to get free swag all the time. Her heterosexual life mate, er husband, Obby did the modern day version of networking to job search. Instead of heading to a golf course, he’s a gamer.

Traditionally business/professional men and thanks to the Suffrage Movement of the 1920s women head to a golf course to discuss business. It allows for privacy and they use 18 holes to decide the fate of a company, patient, client, even criminal. This is what I refer to as 'White Male Thinkin'' process of how-to conduct business deals or the Baby Boomer Generation way. It’s old school, setting up people of privilege to succeed through antiquated abuse of power practices. In other words for the longest time over here in the grand ol' US, Caucasians stacked the deck in their favor turning the other 98% of US citizens into virtual slaves. I thank Goddess this is becoming obsolete in modern society. Ease of access to a PC, tablet, or smart phone means the average or even poor individuals in my country can break the glass ceiling and skyrocket to super stardom. Even lil old, er, I mean, young at heart me.

Today everyone has an opportunity to have their voices heard. The only problem, how do you make your one little voice heard among 7 billion others? Wake up to the world and necessity of social marketing. It gives me way more opportunities to get my message out there in the world.

So here’s me, marketing, er, uh, pimpin’ like a gangsta my product, building my platform, sharing my experiences and making my voice count among the myriad of other voices in this world. I’m hoping you love what I have to say, that my message resonates with you. I want what I have to say to help someone, somewhere with their day.

If you don’t like my message, I ain’t mad at ya. Please let me know if you’re brave enough to challenge me. And I’d rather you not hide behind an Anonymous button when you do. Okay? Cuz you my friend could end up blog fodder or even the basis for one of my fictional characters. BTW I dare ya to try to prove I’m talking about your dumb, I mean, er uninformed ass. At current, I’d gain a story to tell, but as my butt remains poor, bring it on!

Confuse Connie Continuation Considerations...

The writer/Muse inside me is always willing to explore the dark, twisted, and shall I say demon side. What can I say, I consider this my day/night job currently. Through my writing this occasionally manifests in weird, sometimes embarrassing ways. It is my intention that something I write whether it's a story or blog post will help someone else. Enter the second part to Confused Connie or as it was originally titled, Confused Connie Again (CCA). 

I sat down to edit and repost this story. It was the game plan set forth in my last post and boom, it's a (mind)field. I stopped reading, closed it and decided to process my reaction instead. So today I decided to prepare my Muse for demon psyche battle. I made a cup of coffee, started writing, stopped, played a game on my phone, took a shower and started my day again with a new cup of coffee and my go-to reading for inspiration.

As I mentioned in my last post incest is a taboo topic that I chose to tackle. I posted Confused Connie to Literotica back when I first wrote it. At the time I had some real world issues I was working through with my alcoholic father along with a few other life depressors like unemployment. I hadn’t written Forced to Change. Back in 2010 I’d never thought about publishers let alone known any might one day be interested in my work. So as I mentioned earlier I pulled the story down when I saw an opportunity to transition my art, er, uh writing to mainstream. A chance to finally beat down the unemployment factor that was still playing a vicious role in my life and decision making? Yeah! Woo Hoo! Three months ago my publishers and I parted ways. Oh nuts, here we go again. 

As I said, about a month ago I started rereading CCA and I stopped. I have some weird feelings about the writing today, mostly it is not who I am as a writer, storyteller, or even person now. So I can’t decide if I should or more importantly can repost the follow up piece. When I compare and contrast who I am today versus who I was four years ago there are huge differences. I attacked different subject matter, processing my then current issues. This is the challenge of an artist’s Muse. Mine, silly one that she is, freely admits she is dark, twisted, and an undercover sadist in comparison to my being a full blown masochist.

My hesitations are about the fact that I am forcing myself to revisit some old wounds in my life. The masochist in me prefers pain spiked with pleasure and this is more pain than anything else. To work on this story I must face wounds which I have closed and healed. For the most part I enjoy writing and never know where it will take me. It is one of my main goals for my life to use my work to do some self-work as well. 

I use my writing as personal therapy. That inner work on self is usually reflected in my newer projects. Unfortunately my decision to repost my incest pieces has made me acutely aware of these old scars. So the challenge I’ve inadvertently set forth for myself is to take a long hard look at an old battlefield with new eyes.

Add to this problem, I stumbled onto Literotica at a time in my life when my target audience changed. I sought out (Dirty Old Men) DOMs to view my work instead of my trusted friends and family members. Strangers instead of people who know me well. Now that I’m working on the finishing touches to FTC my circle of peeps know how to find my work too. Also the realist in me has hopes of publishing and marketing FTC to yet another type of audience. So I have to ask myself the question 'is this something I really want to explore and expose about myself as a writer'. The situation with my now ex-publishers suggests it is not a good way to go.

This line of thinking may or may not be a good idea as it pertains to marketing to a mass market with the hopes of mass appeal too. I promised myself to be more honest with myself about six months ago. If I really want the advantage of being more truthful with myself, the knowledge I’ve gained from processing my demons and baggage for the sake of my writing I do need to finish what I’ve started. It isn’t always easy to go over painful events from my past, but processing and writing them down is self-work that I recognize as a major improvement to my own creative. I was inspired to this course of action as I mentioned in the following post.

Okay, so since I’m set with my intentions by this blog post. I’ll let you, my dear readers know how it goes by the end of the month. I’m going to pray on it and hope it is the benefit I believe it can be to my writing. If not, comfort food and TV marathons are in my future, while I process the need for another plan of attack for my inner demons, er, I mean my writing.

Death of The Starving Writer/Birth of The Satisfied StoryTeller...

Maybe you noticed or maybe not that I’ve changed my label from Starving Writer to Satisfied StoryTeller. At around 200 lbs. I’ve never actually starved for my art. Almost, there was a time I was forced onto a Ramen Noodle diet due to my budget. Though, I ate everyday even when life was suckage and the only roof over my head was that of my truck, Dante 2.

So why would I consider myself Starving at a time in my life I wasn’t starving for food? Well, I was starved for something else. Inspiration, motivation, love, Goddess. I was cut off from the bounty that is the Divine Design in my life. I was unsure of my every step. Failing at the highest level for what I thought was how my life should work. I was suffering from depression and an inability to see how much better my life could be if I, the Sleeping Beauty of my life could just wake up.

Recently, I fully woke up. I’ve done so every once and a while over the years, but today I can say I’m completely awake, finally. I’m Satisfied with my life. I’m satisfied with the person I am today. I know what I want to do for a living, writing full-time, and how to accomplish that goal. I have a roof over my head and food in my fridge.

I’m happy, content. I have goals and I’m working toward them. I have everything I need and more than I could possibly want. So the time to change my title has come. I’m no longer starving, I am Satisfied. So if you see the ‘starving writer’ label somewhere connected to me, let me know. Thanks my loyal 8 followers. Much appreciated.

Simone

PS. New Literotica story up...Goddess, Simone & YOU

New To Me Author: Anne Bishop/The Black Jewels Trilogy

Okay, I was on a mission of new reading material. I’d been depressed about my own writing and unable to finish the rewrites to Forced To Change to my satisfaction since some time last year. Something was missing and I had no idea what. Turns out my Muse was starving for a new way of addressing personal issues in my own writing... Then along came Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels Trilogy...

My CB shared his diverse library via kindle, a few paperbacks, etc. I read Kelly Armstrong and Patricia Briggs because another friend said they really enjoyed those authors, and I agreed, the stories and writing are strong with these ladies if fantasy is your genre. Then I pulled up the paperback copy of Daughter of the Blood the first book in the series, though not the first story available.

My Muse perked up. The theme throughout these fantasy novels dealt directly with sexual abuse experienced by a child? Well, I’d always been leery of attacking my issues directly, my own experiences were too explict for Literotica, so I changed the crime to rape and the victim to an over the age of 18 when her abuse started. The Black Jewel novels not only went straight at the abuse inflicted at the age I personally dealt with it, but also the story world was so full and vibrantly painted, the other themes perfectly set out, that I enjoyed the reading of all three books within a week.

Every part of the stories resonated with not only me, but my Muse planned a course of attack for my own writing and presented a full picture I was able to outline and work with to start finishing the rewrites on Forced to Change. Plus, I was able to outline mentally the second book, working title, Changed by Time. Also I even have a specific for Lit short story in the works to flush out when I need time to process on my other projects.

Anne Bishop’s writing works for me, even though the themes are a bit taboo, the wealth of possibilities in how to be vulnerable and open enough with my pen, is a door unlocked by discovering these novels. So, if you’re looking for a rich story world, filled with amazing well developed characters, interesting takes on Living, Death, Abuse, with gripping emotional story Telling, then Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels Trilogy might be a story worth reading to you...

What Do You Mean I’m Not Perfect?

Recently (the last few years) I decided not to leave this world with regrets. So when asked or even when not asked I say, “I have no regrets.” I tend to follow that statement up with how I plan to leave this world, ‘surrounded by a rainbow of beautiful men and a few choice women’. It’s true. In addition to having no regrets it means I had to accept that I’m not perfect. This was really difficult for the control freak/perfectionist in me. What do you mean I not only make mistakes, but will continue to make mistakes? Yes, you make mistakes, Simone. Not me, I’m perfect.

Part of the game plan on leaving the world without a single regret means admitting that I make mistakes and accepting that I will continue to make mistakes. That I will and have had major failures in my life. When I make a mistake I forgive myself for doing so, because I’m a human being. I’m not a goddess, all-knowing and powerful. I could throw hours of a good pity party and feel sorry for myself or I can correct the error as quickly as possible and keep moving forward.

When I linger on my past mistakes over and over again, this causes depression and low feelings about myself. It’s a very passive way to live and not very healthy. Coming to acceptance that yes, I do make mistakes, gives me choices about how to handle the situation better. For example, I grew up hearing that God doesn’t give me more than I can handle. What I’ve learned from that is not only is it usually something that I can handle, but I’ll keep dealing with the same issue again and again until I learn the lesson from it.

Basically, it’s how I avoid insanity, which I define as doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. When a pattern starts to repeat in my life, dysfunctional relationships, bad living situations, crazy ass bosses who work my last nerve, the common denominator every time is me. I’m the only one who can change. I have to stop reacting to the situation and start responding to it. Taking a moment to recognize that pattern and decide that if I want a different result, I must do something different than what I’ve always done in the past.

Sometimes it sounds like personal growth is easy for me. It’s hell. It’s hard work. When I was younger I learned various reactions to the myriad of situations life handed me. I developed an instinctual way to solve each problem. Even when the consequence wasn’t something I wanted. It was easier to blame things outside of me. I think that’s the nature of the American culture. I grew up hearing that if someone wronged me, sue them, which reinforced the thinking that nothing was my fault. What makes it difficult for me to accept my mistakes is because I didn’t want them to be mine.

They are my mistakes. Mine all mine. Sad, but true. So it becomes a thing of how do I break a bad habit in my life? Recently I read that breaking a habit is a very difficult thing to do, much harder than I grew up believing. When I was younger I heard it takes 21 days to develop a new habit, turns out it takes 66 days. Three times as much time? Triple the dauntingness plus three days! Then add to that my mind is precondition to reward myself (IE: it’s okay to do the bad habit) because I started the good habit and therefore I defeat the good habit I’m trying to instill in myself. Yikes. Let the vicious cycle begin.

It is hard to stop rewarding myself for doing the good by going back to an old familiar habit. My mind rationalizes it though. If I go for a two and half mile walk, I cannot have the slice of cheesecake or pint of ice cream at that point. If I write 2500 words in a day, I can’t take the next day off to watch a TV marathon. Doing the instant rewards sets me back to zero, immediately. They are mistakes. That’s not to say that I won’t make them, but I know that it defeats my chances of successfully building a good habit. Especially when the reward I’d like is a little more long term, like fitting into a smaller size pair of jeans or finishing the first draft on a novel.

The smaller, bad habit rewards aren’t the true goal for me. So a sacrifice has to be made and eventually I can and do get to the bigger more rewarding consequences. It becomes a matter of convincing my head that it’s worth it because in the end, I'm worth it.

Season Changes, Changes of Scenery

Roadtrip from Atlanta, GA to Eugene, OR recap...Well, I only had to back up with a trailer once, not including the time my uncle did it for me and the time I had to be pulled out of the dirt. Speaking of the time I had to be pulled out of the dirt, that was the big bad that happened on my trip.

Stuck In The Dirt, Navajo, AZ

Cost to me, $60.00 for the tow. I stupidly decided to drive on a primitive road clearly marked as one that I decided ‘Well, this looks like a good place to turn around.’ I was wrong and finally after a half an hour of trying to dig myself out with a cake pan, er, bread pan, I called the police.

My cousin recommended I get AAA before I started the trip. It wasn’t in my budget so I skipped that oh so responsible step. See, Dante 2 had brand new tires (all four replaced in the last year), a tune-up, oil change, and 60,000 mile inspection before I left Atlanta. At 10 years old I was pretty certain that car trouble wouldn’t be an issue for me on the road.

Memphis Hotel

I also got pulled over by a cop just outside of Memphis, TN my first night out. She was extremely nice and wished me well. The cops I spoke with in Navajo, AZ while stuck in the too soft dirt hoped that that incident would be the worst part of my trip. So yeah, I had a lot of positive experiences with the local law enforcement on my way to Eugene, OR.

I-40, No Idea Where Though

The majority of my trip looked like the above picture. Every single day, this was my view. I tried to take a picture when I thought about it. Weather wise, not too bad, I drove in snow for a total of one hour on my way to Kingman, AZ. I spent a night in a KOA cabin, that was fun.

KOA Oklahoma City, OK

So yeah, I got my cabin in the woods experience. Woo hoo! There’s one not too far from here so I may try it again one day. I opted for hotel rooms after that though. New Mexico had interesting overpasses.

I-40 New Mexico

Anyway, overall the trip was good, Nike was awesome and she doesn't hate me at all. I gave her lots of cat treats to win her favor along the way a suggestion I found on Google. I decompressed for about 24 hours and then busted my butt for the next 48 to finish off my piece for NaNo. All and all, November was a very productive month for me.

No, I did not write the story I meant to write on the NaNo piece. I did finish 50,000 words on it, 50,184 to be exact. I did a lot of character development and pictured the ending which had been eluding me since its start. Overall, I’m proud of these two accomplishments and I can’t wait to see what the next year of my life brings as far as challenges and adventures.

Now off to watch another Doctor Who special I missed while I didn’t have cable. Well, er, because I can. Duh!

Update: The morning view this AM was:

Eugene, OR

I may need to rethink this entire move. Snow! I don't like snow...Burrrrrrrrrrrrrr....

NaNoWriMo: The Scariest Time Of Year For Writers

October found me discussing my writing process as a whole in preparation for NaNo. What’s so hard about a writing contest that challenges you to write 50,000 words in a month? That’s only 1,667 words a day. No big deal. Yeah, right. It’s a nightmare, especially if you suffer from writer’s block, lack of time, your Muse keeps escaping her chains and dungeon, etc. It’s why all of my posts last month were about my writing process. It was my hope to encourage other writers, that way I don’t have to go through this big scary contest alone.

So, I’m doing NaNo this year. Yeah me. Yes, there you have it, all written down and everything. Some of you may or may not have noticed I didn’t actually say whether I’ve done NaNo before. So I’m telling you right now, right this minute, nope, I’ve never done it. I’m a NaNo virgin who desperately wants to pop her NaNo cherry, er, uh, you know what I mean. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I was attempting to psych myself up for actually participating with my posts last month.

After much debate on which novel to work on I’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone. I’ve promised to finish the Rising From The Fire story for years. Although I didn’t start this piece for the contest, I know that what’s published has been begging for a rewrite anyway. I’ve brainstormed RFTF and have all the sex scenes plotted out. The characters are developed, but the lion’s share of the writing has yet to be done. To stay fair and in the spirit of the NaNo contest I won’t count any chapters that were pre-written and will only use the parts that make up the rest of the story as part of my 50,000 word count.

Granted, I could have started a new project, something specifically for Literotica or made the follow-up novel to Forced to Change my goal. However, I’ve been promising more Rising From the Fire for years. I love the story and it has been bouncing around in my head forever. It has simmered long enough that it should be soup already. I just need to commit and get ‘er done and NaNo provides the perfect excuse to do so.

Also because I’ve never done NaNo before, I want to give myself the best chance of completing this task so as not to discourage myself going forward. Funny story, but there’s another contest that takes place over Labor Day weekend, the 72-Hour Novel Writing Contest. Being the dullest knife in the drawer on a regular basis, I tried that one instead many years ago. I didn’t actually enter it, cuz there’s a fee to participate in the actual contest and I’m frugal, but I tried one Labor Day weekend to write an entire novel. That would be my first novel, the dreaded horror show of writing, which I finished a few months later.

So y’all get to join me as I brave the NaNo contest for the first time. All signed up and everything. I’m not scared one bit (biting fingernails). There are plenty of projects that I’ll be working on this month to and including moving across the country. Bottom-line, to win the contest all I need to do is complete a 50,000 word manuscript and upload my word count to the site before midnight on November 30, 2013. No big deal, right? Especially with the amount of other things I have going on right now. Rigggght. I can already say, I probably won’t win this year. But at least I’ll try and you never know. We’ll see what happens…

Update: Oct. 3rd, 2016
So last year I tried to get the bulk of Changed by Time done. No luck, my inner demons pulled me off task so hard I'm still stuck with barely an outline started. I'm considering working on it this year. I keep trying to try to beat the writer's block I'm having with this one piece. So wish me luck and I'll let you know with a brand new post after the contest this year if I'm in a position to do so. I hope to get FTC out this month at the latest in December. This year is all I promised myself but yes I'd like to get the lion's share of CBT done first. The Changed Series has me putting on the breaks right now, so I'm hoping by putting my intention out there I'll have some luck with my inner writer...

Forced To Change ~ Sunday, September 16, 2012

I journal. Yup, I’m one of those writers. I started journaling, rather, I kept a diary with a stern warning to my mother to ‘KEEP OUT!’ scrawled on the cover when I was a child. I have almost every composition notebook I’ve written in going back to high school. So, I’m a journal creator most of my life.

Occasionally, I’ll go back and read a piece of me captured by my own words at an earlier time in my life. They're always from my past, however, if I find some writing from my future I'll share right away because that would be so totally awesome. 

Sometimes, I’m struggling or as was the case with this journal entry I’m about to share, something wonderful happened. I believe I’d just finished the first draft of Forced To Change.

“This year, changes FORCED changes. Reaching bottom, falling down. Learning to rise. Seeing the strength inside me others see and when creatively rearranged is a story worth telling.

I’ve learned but I can, will, do learn each and everyday. I know me better than anyone else can. I’ve heard all the thoughts, of course. Experienced every pain, known every success, and plunged into the darkness. When I’ve been through every step and when I felt the most alone and lonely in my life, God has been there travelling through all of it, to it with me.

I should not forget that. I do, but I’m trying. I’m trying to remember Divine path. Divine destiny. Divine life. Living the life I was meant to regardless of how I think, assume my life should have or could have or even would have unfolded.

There is no change in my life without God. Without God I am. With God I am as I am.

That’s the thing, I am not without God. Whether I believe or remember at the time. The moment that is always my past as soon as it passes me by. Hard to live in the present if I am too busy living in my past. But the past is what I know.

The present is happening and I hope, pray, dream of my Divine future as God planned for me.

FORGIVENESS IS GIVING UP THE RIGHT TO BE RIGHT!”

So, yup that was me almost a year ago. I guess I was processing a lot about myself and what role my Higher Power played in my life or something like that. I don’t know, I guess I try to be spiritual rather than religious. I checked out a lot of religions before I found the one that spoke to me.

Literally spoke to me, I mean, the first spiritual leader I came in contact with from my religion gave a sermon that fit exactly what I was going through at that time. As a result, I finally settled on a religion. You may or may not have noticed I don’t share what religion I do practice. I do this because my religion isn’t for everyone. It took me from catholic school through college to find a place that spoke to me and once I did, I picked a religion to practice.

Some people never find a religion that works for them, or they don’t even believe in a Higher Power. I do, but this was a choice I made. I know my choices aren’t for everyone, but they are my choices to make just as your choices are yours to make.

Recently, I found the person physically closest to me, IE, my ex-roommate was very judgmental about my choices. So, although he claims he kicked me out, I feel I left that situation, yet another choice I made. According to my words from a year ago, leaving is just what is meant to be in my life.