Didja notice that I’m posting more regularly?
I’m trying to get my writing mojo back. It’s been (apparently) vanilla-dipped (vanilla-saturated?). There is always so much to do that there doesn’t seem to be much time for *this* side of my life. My kids are being uber-needy. To the point of being frigging ridiculous. I love my kids…but they don’t need my attention every 3 minutes. I’ve “unplugged” them and it’s driving me bonkers. The first week is the hardest. Next week will be better. (we’ve been down this tv free road before, you see). I’ve never seen kids so obsessed with what’s on the tube. They quote tv lines at each other. Watch reruns ad infinitude. It makes me crazy. There is this whole wonderful world of outside. Go there. Be part of it. I realize we stand at the cusp of a new generation but really. Outdoors is okay. (They do like it, they do. But if I hear “I’m bored” one more time…..)
M and I are good, though we haven’t seen much of each other. Okay, none of each other, but hoping to end that drought sometime this weekend. *big sigh* I don’t need to necessarily get laid…I can handle orgasms on my own, and really, who feels sensual when there is no time or energy at the end of the day? (oops…sounds pity party there–isn’t.) What I really need is a damned rough handling. I need to be tied, smacked around, slapped, hurt.
*want it desperately*
I feel…hmm. How do I feel? Disconnected, maybe. From this darker side. It’s like trying to snatch at a rainbow. You know it’s there, you can see it…but it’s too ephemeral to grasp. Life has changed subtly over these last 5 years. M is a busy guy, nilla is a busy woman. I’m juggling kiddo’s who are growing fast…sometimes faster than I wish, sometimes it feels like I’ll never be “done” (recognizing that parenting is never ‘done’). I’m not getting any younger, and I find my energies flagging some days.
Taking time away from here has been necessary, but I find that it leads to me feeling even more disconnected. There is that to be said about the community of bloggers…when I read and comment on other blogs, and when I write here, I have at least that thin connection. Writing is a discipline and the longer I stay away, the harder it is to get back to it. So…I’m trying to recommit to writing more regularly. Because if I don’t take the time to grab some “me” time each day, I fear I’ll lose it all. I’m not trying to be famous (or infamous!)…but having this connection to you all is important to me. And it’s not like someone will break into my house and do all my laundry for me, right? Any takers?
Right. So…that means that those chores will *always* be part of my life…(as they were before)…so I need to carve out the time I need to work at my craft.
All that said, this is the wee snippet that floated in my head. It started from something fiona published which was hot as hell. And I’m not sure it will ever go any further than this. But at least I’ll get this part out.
Recommitted to writing….*nods*…
She blamed It on the dj. And on the rum. Definitely on the man who gave her the rum. He was a bit scary. In her drunken state that translated as very sexy. Maybe when she was sober she would have thought twice about letting a stranger take her home.
To his home.
As the booze wore off and sobriety kicked in she felt the burning pain in her nipples. In the faint light coming into the small closet she could see her nipples were attached to a chain that was attached to a shelf. Cuffs held her hands overhead and wrapped around the thick rod.
Footsteps sounded. Closer. Closer.
She had no inkling of what would happen when they stopped at the door–but it wouldn’t be good.
What will happen? Will it be good? Good for her eventually? Maybe I can’t finish it because I’ve been bereft of any sort of d/s play? I dunno. I wrote before, when I craved. Maybe it’s just Friday. Yeah. Maybe.