So I went out for groceries and toilet paper last week y'all...And fuck my life.
I went to eight stores. Eight. Two of them twice. On my second trip to the aforementioned two, I happened to arrive 15 minutes after the delivery truck. So I scored a $20 dollar pack of 12 rolls of toilet paper, and three whole bottles of hand sanitizer! By the time I made it the forty second walk to the store with hand sanitizer, the place I got toilet paper at was already out. By the time I got to the cashier at hand sanitizer store, the woman at the end of the line said hand sanitizer was gone.
In other news, I was fortunate enough to find eggs at the fourth store.
Ya'll...It's the self-perpetuating goddamn apocalypse out here. I haven't seen a bag of rice in two weeks.
This week I saw somebody loading up toilet paper and ran into the store. Grabbed a pack. My coworker and her family were down to 3 rolls and hadn't seen any on the shelves anywhere for nearly two weeks. Gave her the pack of toilet paper. It worked out. And it irritated me. It irritated me that things are so ridiculous out here that I, (who would normally rather lose a small body part than be late to work) felt the need to run into a grocery store 7 minutes before the start of my shift, to buy a product I didn't need, because someone I knew needed it and couldn't get it because the masses have devolved into a selfish hoard.
Phew, ok, that was a run on sentence even for my mouth.
I am fortunate enough to still be employed. For now. And...Not gonna lie, I'd really love to come home and stay there for three weeks, only leaving for walks in the woods or to pick up kiddo. I mean c'mon, I was MADE for social distancing! Talk about living the dream...I'm not staying home though. I'm going to work while I can, because I don't have anything to fall back on once I'm sent home, besides a bit of pto. Not enough pto.
It's weird because I have enough of a medical background to know that the bandana and various face coverings myself and my coworkers re-use, the gloves that we do the same with, and our massive step-up in sanitation measures, are truly inadequate. But I'm still out there. Like so many others. We don't want to be, and in an overall sense of practicality, we shouldn't be. But, ya'know, survival in all its forms and all.
Moving on...
Who are you guys reading these days? So many of the blogs I loved have faded away or have simply been taken over by other domains.
Who are you reading that this dusty sub might enjoy in the event that she is lucky/unfortunate enough to be sent home?
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Lost their damn minds...
People done lost their damn minds out there.
Then they closed the schools and these fuckers went NUTS.
I waited in line 15 minutes to buy saran wrap. Guy in front of me bought 8 cans of comet right from beneath the sign, "as are most retailers, we are out of hand sanitizer and toilet paper. We apologize for the inconvenience and will restock as soon as we can".
Woman in line behind me yesterday bought 148 rolls of toilet paper.
Me today: Ummm...I'd just like one pack of toilet paper today so I can wipe my ass next week? Nope. Ummm...Tampons? Hahahahaha nope. Ok...one bottle of antibacterial hand soap that will last my household a month? Hahahahaha, Oh helllll no! Ok, one small bottle of hand sanitizer...? Hahahaha, good luck bitch, the bathrooms are closed because people are stealing all the toilet paper, and you think you get hand sanitizer???
People done lost their damn minds out there. And their buying doesn't even make sense! If you really think it's that bad, what you gonna do, live off toilet paper and hand sanitizer for three months??
Ok, so clearly I have had a rough week and am low on patience. I'm the only one at work who hasn't been out sick for a week, and there were only two of us today, which is our busiest day of the week. People are even more rude, demanding, and entitled than usual. I'm exhausted.
The nonsensical panic, selfishness, entitlement, and overall sense of personal importance overwhelming the portion of the human race that I'm dealing with right now is disgusting.
I want to believe that we can be good. That humanity has redeeming qualities. That there is something inherently beautiful and wondrous about who and what we are. But damn...
Then they closed the schools and these fuckers went NUTS.
I waited in line 15 minutes to buy saran wrap. Guy in front of me bought 8 cans of comet right from beneath the sign, "as are most retailers, we are out of hand sanitizer and toilet paper. We apologize for the inconvenience and will restock as soon as we can".
Woman in line behind me yesterday bought 148 rolls of toilet paper.
Me today: Ummm...I'd just like one pack of toilet paper today so I can wipe my ass next week? Nope. Ummm...Tampons? Hahahahaha nope. Ok...one bottle of antibacterial hand soap that will last my household a month? Hahahahaha, Oh helllll no! Ok, one small bottle of hand sanitizer...? Hahahaha, good luck bitch, the bathrooms are closed because people are stealing all the toilet paper, and you think you get hand sanitizer???
People done lost their damn minds out there. And their buying doesn't even make sense! If you really think it's that bad, what you gonna do, live off toilet paper and hand sanitizer for three months??
Ok, so clearly I have had a rough week and am low on patience. I'm the only one at work who hasn't been out sick for a week, and there were only two of us today, which is our busiest day of the week. People are even more rude, demanding, and entitled than usual. I'm exhausted.
The nonsensical panic, selfishness, entitlement, and overall sense of personal importance overwhelming the portion of the human race that I'm dealing with right now is disgusting.
I want to believe that we can be good. That humanity has redeeming qualities. That there is something inherently beautiful and wondrous about who and what we are. But damn...
Wednesday, March 11, 2020
What Do We Crave?
So I was sitting here thinking about a bunch of random stuff...Last night with her, our/my D/s struggles, the conversation I had with kiddo while we made banana bread tonight, random things I need and crave...And I got to thinking, what do we crave?
We boil our human cravings down to specific needs, desires, and emotions, because that's how we meet them, right? If you can't choose a specific need or desire, you can't really fill or address it.
Specifics are important. They provide us with definition which leads to the fulfillment we seek. Without specifics, such fulfillment can be elusive, and our pursuit of it merely confusing to ourselves and the people in our lives.
But what if, just what if, sometimes we are too specific and become so fixated on the exact thing we think we need and the way we think we have to get it, that we are unable achieve it simply because our view of what it is has become too narrow?
For instance, kiddo craves acceptance and confidence, but rightly enough, he's afraid that the confidence he has reached for in his pursuit of acceptance just kinda makes him act like an asshole. So how does he achieve his goals and circumvent the asshole bit (putting aside that there's a huge difference between cocky and confident, but he's eleven and we're both working our way through it all lol)?
Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't really need either of those things. Maybe he just needs to learn belief in himself and acceptance of who he is at his core. Maybe he just needs to learn to trust that feeling in himself when he does the right thing, regardless of what others say and think about it.
I have been called confident over and over. I'm not. I know I'm not. But oddly enough, I am accepted for my acceptance of self and my irritating inner drive to do what I believe is inherently right. I used to crave acceptance from others before I realized that what I really needed was acceptance from myself which allowed me to sleep at night.
Before I get too sucked into the details...
So many of these needs and desires we have as human beings come down to much more vast and basic things. And sometimes, when we allow ourselves to let go of our narrow and specific ideas of what those things are, we gain the ability actually achieve and experience them.
I need to submit. It is who I am. When I get sucked into the details of how exactly that submission should take form, I become unable to achieve it. When kiddo needs to believe in himself and translates that as having the acceptance of others, it becomes an elusive goal because it is then no longer based on a broader acceptance of himself and an unfailing ability to choose what he knows is right, but based upon how he wants people to react to that which he seeks within himself.
We all experience so many cravings and needs. Many of them are valid. But perhaps, just perhaps, sometimes, we get so sucked into the specifics of what we think they are and how we believe they must be achieved, that we miss the broader overall need that our cravings are rooted in. We therefor deny ourselves the ability to meet them because our focus has become to narrow.
.
What we crave, what we need, what we desire, is perhaps not always found in the specifics we are fixated upon, but in the broader realities which contain those specifics. And oftentimes we lose what we are reaching for simply because we are unable to broaden our definition enough to realize that we can have what we seek if we merely let go of our attachment to how it comes.
We boil our human cravings down to specific needs, desires, and emotions, because that's how we meet them, right? If you can't choose a specific need or desire, you can't really fill or address it.
Specifics are important. They provide us with definition which leads to the fulfillment we seek. Without specifics, such fulfillment can be elusive, and our pursuit of it merely confusing to ourselves and the people in our lives.
But what if, just what if, sometimes we are too specific and become so fixated on the exact thing we think we need and the way we think we have to get it, that we are unable achieve it simply because our view of what it is has become too narrow?
For instance, kiddo craves acceptance and confidence, but rightly enough, he's afraid that the confidence he has reached for in his pursuit of acceptance just kinda makes him act like an asshole. So how does he achieve his goals and circumvent the asshole bit (putting aside that there's a huge difference between cocky and confident, but he's eleven and we're both working our way through it all lol)?
Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't really need either of those things. Maybe he just needs to learn belief in himself and acceptance of who he is at his core. Maybe he just needs to learn to trust that feeling in himself when he does the right thing, regardless of what others say and think about it.
I have been called confident over and over. I'm not. I know I'm not. But oddly enough, I am accepted for my acceptance of self and my irritating inner drive to do what I believe is inherently right. I used to crave acceptance from others before I realized that what I really needed was acceptance from myself which allowed me to sleep at night.
Before I get too sucked into the details...
So many of these needs and desires we have as human beings come down to much more vast and basic things. And sometimes, when we allow ourselves to let go of our narrow and specific ideas of what those things are, we gain the ability actually achieve and experience them.
I need to submit. It is who I am. When I get sucked into the details of how exactly that submission should take form, I become unable to achieve it. When kiddo needs to believe in himself and translates that as having the acceptance of others, it becomes an elusive goal because it is then no longer based on a broader acceptance of himself and an unfailing ability to choose what he knows is right, but based upon how he wants people to react to that which he seeks within himself.
We all experience so many cravings and needs. Many of them are valid. But perhaps, just perhaps, sometimes, we get so sucked into the specifics of what we think they are and how we believe they must be achieved, that we miss the broader overall need that our cravings are rooted in. We therefor deny ourselves the ability to meet them because our focus has become to narrow.
.
What we crave, what we need, what we desire, is perhaps not always found in the specifics we are fixated upon, but in the broader realities which contain those specifics. And oftentimes we lose what we are reaching for simply because we are unable to broaden our definition enough to realize that we can have what we seek if we merely let go of our attachment to how it comes.
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
Huge and Absolutely Ridiculous Kink...Wait, Is That Even A Kink?
So umm, I've rebuilt myself fairly well, (in my own opinion, of course) however; sub me doesn't really function for shit lately. I guess maybe when you remake so much of your life you just have to take it one piece at a time?
Thing is, I've had a while now lol...
I struggle with writing about D/s in this space these days. Partly because I've been kind of stuck, but mostly because there is always the chance that one day he will drop in and read again.
This...That huge part of me that I explored with him for so long...It was the part of me he shredded the most. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't dread the potential outcome of every chance I take in opening myself back up to that. We became the opposite of the idea of BDSM which stirs my heart body and soul.
But I digress from my original train of thought...
See, I've got this Domme girl. And we've put together a life, and have both rebuilt ourselves from scratch. Together. So I have a safe and healthy space to open the door for the sub. We have been D/s for years to varying extents...We're just...I think that in a way we have both challenged each other greatly as we rebuilt, and falling back into our rhythm has been difficult...
Still digressing from my original train of thought...
All of the above meanderings stemmed from one original musing about something I have identified as a huge, and possibly absolutely ridiculous kink. And is it really even a kink?? I mean, it feels like one lol.
The feeling of safety. Physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. It's a huge turn on. And when when it's coupled with painful or terrifying things with an occasional hint of tenderness? To be tortured, yet secure in being truly treasured...Yea...That. Safety provides for the luxury of true vulnerability, and that is hot as hell to me.
Safety allows for a lowering of defenses, and I have found that it is only in the lowering all of my defenses that I become free to truly experience submission and its dangers to the fullest.
I guess...I need to fly again... To wrestle and succumb to the dragon...I just have to take the leap and believe it won't devour me completely. Or perhaps more accurately, hope that it doesn't chew me up and spit me out. After all, being devoured is itself a huge part of the appeal.
Thing is, I've had a while now lol...
I struggle with writing about D/s in this space these days. Partly because I've been kind of stuck, but mostly because there is always the chance that one day he will drop in and read again.
This...That huge part of me that I explored with him for so long...It was the part of me he shredded the most. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't dread the potential outcome of every chance I take in opening myself back up to that. We became the opposite of the idea of BDSM which stirs my heart body and soul.
But I digress from my original train of thought...
See, I've got this Domme girl. And we've put together a life, and have both rebuilt ourselves from scratch. Together. So I have a safe and healthy space to open the door for the sub. We have been D/s for years to varying extents...We're just...I think that in a way we have both challenged each other greatly as we rebuilt, and falling back into our rhythm has been difficult...
Still digressing from my original train of thought...
All of the above meanderings stemmed from one original musing about something I have identified as a huge, and possibly absolutely ridiculous kink. And is it really even a kink?? I mean, it feels like one lol.
The feeling of safety. Physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. It's a huge turn on. And when when it's coupled with painful or terrifying things with an occasional hint of tenderness? To be tortured, yet secure in being truly treasured...Yea...That. Safety provides for the luxury of true vulnerability, and that is hot as hell to me.
Safety allows for a lowering of defenses, and I have found that it is only in the lowering all of my defenses that I become free to truly experience submission and its dangers to the fullest.
I guess...I need to fly again... To wrestle and succumb to the dragon...I just have to take the leap and believe it won't devour me completely. Or perhaps more accurately, hope that it doesn't chew me up and spit me out. After all, being devoured is itself a huge part of the appeal.
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Ten
So this blog will be ten years old tomorrow...One whole fucking decade.
A lot happens over the course of ten years. Hell, a lot happens over the course of one. I took a long hiatus from this place. And coming back...Well, it's stirred up a lot in my head. And it's been kinda lovely cuz, some of you are still here and that warms my heart to no end.
A decade of my story is here. Not all of it, and certainly very little of the last few years. But it is still my story, my history, my life.
I have been talking to one of my aunts. I never had any close family, but still, she's my family. And she remembers family history that no other living person knows. My youngest has expressed an interest in learning his family history, so I started talking to her about it and really acknowledging some interesting things about history and being alive.
Stories die when no one remembers them. Some day, everything we know and experienced will vanish unless someone else learns our story. Histories, lifetimes, people, their stories, the events during their lifetimes, these things only truly die when no one knows them and can pass them on, and no one listens or recalls the tales of those who do.
And these individual moments of failure, success, pain, joy, love, hate...All these little individual moments put together as a whole make up the world as we know and experience it.
We are all merely a drop in the ocean, but without all those little drops, there is no ocean.
This blog is ten years old. I turned 37 last week. Time flies, but it doesn't have to pass us by. We add to our story and those of people we interact with each and every day. Life is beautiful. It's fucking painful, and ugly, and glorious, and amazing. Our story is what we make it, how we choose to allow others to shape it, the memories and moments we share with others.
In the end, perhaps it matters not how long we are alive, but that we truly live in the time we are given. And if we are really lucky, we will touch even just one person enough for them to listen to our story. And remember.
Given the theme this post kind of took on its own, I would just like to mention Cat, of Be pleasing always. Her dom, HerLiege, recently posted that most of her blog was going to be deleted by tumbler.That brings me great sadness. Because, while Cat had already passed away when I found her blog years ago, her story meant something to me, it impacted my ideals and views, helped to shape so many of my ideas of submission. I can still call up that feeling in my heart that reading her words inspired, and the introspection and growth it evoked. Her story and who she was will always be beautiful to me. And because she shared her story, I will remember her. Always.
A lot happens over the course of ten years. Hell, a lot happens over the course of one. I took a long hiatus from this place. And coming back...Well, it's stirred up a lot in my head. And it's been kinda lovely cuz, some of you are still here and that warms my heart to no end.
A decade of my story is here. Not all of it, and certainly very little of the last few years. But it is still my story, my history, my life.
I have been talking to one of my aunts. I never had any close family, but still, she's my family. And she remembers family history that no other living person knows. My youngest has expressed an interest in learning his family history, so I started talking to her about it and really acknowledging some interesting things about history and being alive.
Stories die when no one remembers them. Some day, everything we know and experienced will vanish unless someone else learns our story. Histories, lifetimes, people, their stories, the events during their lifetimes, these things only truly die when no one knows them and can pass them on, and no one listens or recalls the tales of those who do.
And these individual moments of failure, success, pain, joy, love, hate...All these little individual moments put together as a whole make up the world as we know and experience it.
We are all merely a drop in the ocean, but without all those little drops, there is no ocean.
This blog is ten years old. I turned 37 last week. Time flies, but it doesn't have to pass us by. We add to our story and those of people we interact with each and every day. Life is beautiful. It's fucking painful, and ugly, and glorious, and amazing. Our story is what we make it, how we choose to allow others to shape it, the memories and moments we share with others.
In the end, perhaps it matters not how long we are alive, but that we truly live in the time we are given. And if we are really lucky, we will touch even just one person enough for them to listen to our story. And remember.
Given the theme this post kind of took on its own, I would just like to mention Cat, of Be pleasing always. Her dom, HerLiege, recently posted that most of her blog was going to be deleted by tumbler.That brings me great sadness. Because, while Cat had already passed away when I found her blog years ago, her story meant something to me, it impacted my ideals and views, helped to shape so many of my ideas of submission. I can still call up that feeling in my heart that reading her words inspired, and the introspection and growth it evoked. Her story and who she was will always be beautiful to me. And because she shared her story, I will remember her. Always.
Friday, March 6, 2020
Thursday, March 5, 2020
Stupid Question
Ok, so I may have forgotten how to use Blogger, or I may just not know how to use my phone (a valid option as I spent weeks wondering why my alarm wasn't making sound in the morning until it was pointed out to me that said alarm was set on silent).
Anyways...Any ideas as to why I can't respond to comments from my phone? I can write posts and do the things, but if I want to comment I can't comment as myself. It just gives me an option to comment anonymously or with some other profile made over a year ago which quite frankly I don't even remember creating but obviously did.
Anyways...Any ideas as to why I can't respond to comments from my phone? I can write posts and do the things, but if I want to comment I can't comment as myself. It just gives me an option to comment anonymously or with some other profile made over a year ago which quite frankly I don't even remember creating but obviously did.
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Belonging
One of the things I loved about Blogland was the feeling of belonging it gave me. Coming back after having built this blog, and my entire life really, around Alpha, I feel a bit like I don't belong. This blog was very much OUR story. And now...Now it's mine. And in a place that is so much based upon belonging TO someone...It feels a bit odd. But I am who I am. And it is what it is.
I watched a movie the other day, and the main character was having a conversation in which she said, "I'm much more stable when I write, I haven't written much lately." and the other character replies with, "How are you doing with that?" to which she responds with, "Not well, not well at all."
That resonated deeply with me. B has asked me to write on more than one occasion in the last couple years, because she knows it's good for me, knows I need it. But so often...So often, the words haven't been there. too much pain, too much bitterness, too much confusion, too little drive to stare at the blinking cursor and make it move. And above all perhaps, when it comes to here, too much fear that he would read it and lash out.
I don't know where I belong. But I do know that I am still me. I still need this thing we call D/s, I still need the physical pain he trained out of me in favor of control over all those years. I still crave control, yet have developed a deep and abiding angst around any efforts to do so. I know that I'm a monster, and I'm working with that lol.
I have learned how to take care of myself because it was that or die. And for a while, not gonna lie, I just wanted to die. I got these kids though...so I didn't.
I took care of him and the kids for years with these:
It's a rough life, and not ideal for a mother; living in the hills away from your children, only seeing them when you come home to dump piles of money on the table, and hear a week later that the rent it was intended to pay was already spent. But I was good at it. And I built a reputation on my hands and my name. My hands were good and I made my name gold. Because I could be trusted and I always landed top chair. And I belonged. With the crazies, the misfits, the storms, the underground castoffs...
Then...I couldn't do it any more. Too unstable, too dangerous, too tired of living in a tent, too tired of not seeing my kids, too tired of all the bullshit, the backstabbing, being taken advantage of, the cold and the rain. Too fucking old to be living on the hill telling people to get their fucking drugs off my table and working 18 hours a day. Too damn good at what I did to accept the wages they began offering.
So I learned something new. It's hard to start over and suck at something new. But I have learned that it is also brave, and can be well worth it. so I traded in those scissors for these:
I can't threaten to stab the people who piss me off anymore, but I do provide health insurance for my kids, I sleep inside in the same bed every night, I can support myself in a very stable manner, and I work with one crew who has my back, not because they need me, but because I have shown them who I am and we have each others backs. And I still kinda suck at it, but I do belong.
It has been a lifelong fault of mine, this desire to belong. And I have fought against it so much...But I have learned that a refusal to base my life on that desire always lands me in the places where I truly do belong.
I do belong to someone...This girl. This girl he wanted me to want because he wanted her. This girl he left me for who would have left him in a heartbeat if I had asked her to, this girl who loves me like he once did...This girl who broke my heart and put me back together when he told me over and over to just die. In a way, she's getting shorted. But she has my back.
The sub in me can't give her what she knows me to be at my core right now. What she really needs in a relationship. Yet...In a way she's also getting the best of me, because I hold my shit down. I pay the bills, and I work my ass off.
I guess...I guess I belong wherever I choose to be. And maybe that's just one of the things we learn about life along the way, that we belong where we choose. I choose to be here again. And so, as odd and strange as it is, as much as it may challenge all that I believed and pick at not-so-old wounds, I still belong here. Because I am what I am. And I built this space, and I still hold to many of the core beliefs I have expressed here.
I watched a movie the other day, and the main character was having a conversation in which she said, "I'm much more stable when I write, I haven't written much lately." and the other character replies with, "How are you doing with that?" to which she responds with, "Not well, not well at all."
That resonated deeply with me. B has asked me to write on more than one occasion in the last couple years, because she knows it's good for me, knows I need it. But so often...So often, the words haven't been there. too much pain, too much bitterness, too much confusion, too little drive to stare at the blinking cursor and make it move. And above all perhaps, when it comes to here, too much fear that he would read it and lash out.
I don't know where I belong. But I do know that I am still me. I still need this thing we call D/s, I still need the physical pain he trained out of me in favor of control over all those years. I still crave control, yet have developed a deep and abiding angst around any efforts to do so. I know that I'm a monster, and I'm working with that lol.
I have learned how to take care of myself because it was that or die. And for a while, not gonna lie, I just wanted to die. I got these kids though...so I didn't.
I took care of him and the kids for years with these:
It's a rough life, and not ideal for a mother; living in the hills away from your children, only seeing them when you come home to dump piles of money on the table, and hear a week later that the rent it was intended to pay was already spent. But I was good at it. And I built a reputation on my hands and my name. My hands were good and I made my name gold. Because I could be trusted and I always landed top chair. And I belonged. With the crazies, the misfits, the storms, the underground castoffs...
Then...I couldn't do it any more. Too unstable, too dangerous, too tired of living in a tent, too tired of not seeing my kids, too tired of all the bullshit, the backstabbing, being taken advantage of, the cold and the rain. Too fucking old to be living on the hill telling people to get their fucking drugs off my table and working 18 hours a day. Too damn good at what I did to accept the wages they began offering.
So I learned something new. It's hard to start over and suck at something new. But I have learned that it is also brave, and can be well worth it. so I traded in those scissors for these:
I can't threaten to stab the people who piss me off anymore, but I do provide health insurance for my kids, I sleep inside in the same bed every night, I can support myself in a very stable manner, and I work with one crew who has my back, not because they need me, but because I have shown them who I am and we have each others backs. And I still kinda suck at it, but I do belong.
It has been a lifelong fault of mine, this desire to belong. And I have fought against it so much...But I have learned that a refusal to base my life on that desire always lands me in the places where I truly do belong.
I do belong to someone...This girl. This girl he wanted me to want because he wanted her. This girl he left me for who would have left him in a heartbeat if I had asked her to, this girl who loves me like he once did...This girl who broke my heart and put me back together when he told me over and over to just die. In a way, she's getting shorted. But she has my back.
The sub in me can't give her what she knows me to be at my core right now. What she really needs in a relationship. Yet...In a way she's also getting the best of me, because I hold my shit down. I pay the bills, and I work my ass off.
I guess...I guess I belong wherever I choose to be. And maybe that's just one of the things we learn about life along the way, that we belong where we choose. I choose to be here again. And so, as odd and strange as it is, as much as it may challenge all that I believed and pick at not-so-old wounds, I still belong here. Because I am what I am. And I built this space, and I still hold to many of the core beliefs I have expressed here.
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Storm
So I changed my name here..I called myself lil, because he called me littleone. And I am no longer his littleone. Indeed, rarely can I bring myself to indulge in the much needed luxury of being little...But that is beside the point. I can no longer be lil.
So...
I became storm. Because because I am the storm. And the storm survives.
Life is amazing, and painful, and beautiful and awing, and shocking, and it will beat you down and eat you up...
Yet...Without the storm there is no harvest.
The quote that's been sitting unattended on the side of this blog for years now? I tattooed it on my wrists. And I find it no less true today than when I posted it here. One must sow to reap, and one must, in some way, labor for the reward.
The storm...The storm makes us what we are. Plants that do not weather the wind and rain and harsh conditions are weak. They cannot survive...
So...
I became storm. Because because I am the storm. And the storm survives.
Life is amazing, and painful, and beautiful and awing, and shocking, and it will beat you down and eat you up...
Yet...Without the storm there is no harvest.
The quote that's been sitting unattended on the side of this blog for years now? I tattooed it on my wrists. And I find it no less true today than when I posted it here. One must sow to reap, and one must, in some way, labor for the reward.
The storm...The storm makes us what we are. Plants that do not weather the wind and rain and harsh conditions are weak. They cannot survive...
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