This always happens to me. Every so often, my brain becomes flooded with lust. It's like a disease, you know. I can't sleep, eat, drink, shower, dress or get undressed without thinking about the sex I'm NOT having. It's almost embarrassing to admit, but I know there are other women out there who feel the same way, and I want to tell them I understand. I almost always hear the same response when I vent to friends: "you're so beautiful though, you can get anyone you want." It doesn't quite work like that. I don't walk into every bar/social situation and wave a magic wand to make men swoon. More often than not, I'm unsuccessful due to my being "intimidating" (according to close friends of mine) and when I scale down my confidence level to give them a chance, I barely get a glance. After enough time has passed, and those few opportunities do arise to share sins of the flesh, I start to wonder whether it's even worth it. If it turns out bad, I feel guilty for having wasted a chance on a bad lay. If it's great, then it's only a matter of time until I want more from that individual, whether romantically or sexually and maybe sex is where the line is drawn. Casual sex is cool, and for a long time I was okay with that. But I started noticing whether good or bad, I felt slightly empty afterwards as if I were craving a burger and had a salad instead. You can eat as many salads as you want, but you're still going to crave that burger. Although being on this romantic diet has provided clarity, in terms of what I want and what I'm not prepared to settle for, I still make bad decisions. I still scratch at the back doors of lovers past looking for sanctuary. Safe. Familiar. Even if it's not what I want. I lie down on my bedroom floor, just to feel gravity's slight weight on top of me. I read my romance novels, and close my eyes and picture what it would be like with a stranger I've never met. Any fantasy to ease my suffering, until I find a burger juicy enough to sink my teeth into.
As a civilization we seem to be pretty obsessed with crime and murder. Actually, the less civilized the crime the more our mouths water with a frenzy. Especially when the accused or the crime is a juicy stereotype of some sort that the media can play on, until the lines between reality and fiction blur. One of my favorites is the case of Jodi Arias, who brutally stabbed her lover multiple times in cold blood, slit his throat, and then shot him in the head. No matter how griSly the details, it's always the media's favorite story to tell. The heated crime of passion, and more so when it's a beautiful girl who's committed the murder. I noticed right from the beginning there was something off about her; from the obvious attention she craved to her soft spoken, demure attitude...all I kept seeing was a girl who was mentally playing a role. It was all just one staged act of media manipulation and madness. The girl was definitely not sound of mind by any means, or smart about executing her plans, which made it all seem planned, even the part where she got caught. Recently I saw a TV series about this specific case, where it chronicled her and her boyfriend (Travis Alexander) from the beginning and I must say, it slightly altered my perception of her. Now, I assumed like the rest of the country this poor guy was blindsideD, unaware of her dormant psychological issues. In fact, it was the opposite where Jodi had no problem flaunting her unstable mind from the get-go. Turns out she had broken into his home a few times, slashed his tires, and even moved to his hometown in a final act of winning him back after he had started dating someone else. However, none of this crazy behavior seemed to phase Travis, as he continued to sleep with Jodi, and have long-distance phone sex after she moved away, unbeknownst to his current girlfriend. In short: Jodi couldn't understand she was just a side dish, and would never be the main course. Travis had continually lead her on, and Jodi's psychotic obsession over him didn't seem to instill any fear or hesitation. In fact, it was the night of his murder she casually broke into his house, and instead of calling the police or asking her to leave, Travis slept with her, and his lack of common sense left him vulnerable setting the stage for his own murder. Now, I certainly don't think Travis deserved his fate AT ALL. His death was tragic, and it's sad that someone had all the signs, and only lost their life because they failed to read them. What I took away from the whole story, was to simply think twice about my actions and words. Don't allow someone to believe they have a chance, don't lead someone on whether they have dangerous tendencies or not. The lack of respect is something everybody handles differently. This is my advice to all of you. The next guy/girl might not be as obvious as Jodi. Be clear about your intentions, always and don't allow anyone to make assumptions. Dating is hard enough as it is without having to worry if that guy you're seeing has plans of chopping you up into bits. Be mindful, be respectful.
'Cause you never know. It could be your funeral next.
There's an issue that's been kind of bothering me. Many women in all walks of life, including prominent ones that for one reason or another are in the public eye, have been confusing the true definition of feminism. It's important to know, not just for the cause but also to accurately categorize yourself as a feminist or a non-feminist. There are many negative connotations surrounding it's belief. I am a feminist because I truly believe the sexes should live in equality. And I quote:
advocating social, political, legal, and economic rights for women equal to those of men.
It does not mean I hate men, or I wish to be superior to them. It does not mean I want to burn my bra, and live alone with cats. I do still agree a man who is courting a woman should at least hold the door open, or offer to pay for dinner. It doesn't mean I don't believe both sexes need each other to survive. Gender equality is meant to bring us together, not separate us or start a war. It affects us socially, economically, psychologically, and physically. the topic is well discussed, it's true but not much has been done to acknowledge it. To associate with being a feminist has begun to appear negative.
Many people seem to think sexism is this big conspiracy, slightly fabricated and dramatized when in fact a lot of true sexism is second nature, and overlooked immensely. I find it rather useless to put it any better than THIS, and would encourage you to read it in full. Another post from a blogger that truly put things in perspective. By the time you're finished you'll marvel at how much you never realized. I did.
Then next time, when you're at dinner with a group of people or at some cocktail party and the subject of feminism arises, whether positive or negative, you'll know what to say.
It has come to my attention that Venus is in retrograde. While Mercury's retrograde gets all the infamy, it doesn't get to have all the fun. There are some interesting things happening in this astrological phenomena which only occurs in Leo every eight years. It began July 25th, and will continue until September 6th. I have brushed up on some reading of the subject, and it seems it is unwise to start a love affair, amongst other things. The first phase we might feel in need of more attention or love, and it's very likely to cling to a past relationship for nurture. If this is the case, it is the best time to bring it to a close, air out the dirty laundry and put those feelings to rest. However the final two weeks of the retrograde is the one we must be weary of. Temptations will run high, with clouded judgement and so the stars are advising not to engage in any sex whatsoever, as it will most likely end on a bad note. I found all my reading to be incredibly affirming. Events have been set into motion that are changing my entire outlook, changing the way I feel about certain individuals or circumstances. To now discover this astrological event is aligned with my own perceptions is quite illuminating.
I also find it interesting I have been doing some other light reading, including the work of Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch, whose name is the derivative of the word masochism. Venus in Furs is quite an interesting read and that is an understatement. It had a certain affect on my outlook. I began feeling every great love story had failed me. Had sold me on this idea for most of my life that love conquered all, in all it's glorious climaxes and big on-screen kisses. I thought, why give your heart away to such whimsy? Love is an illusion, a mirror reflecting what we wish we saw in ourselves, or what we know we'll never possess. To desire someone and have them close is the ultimate conquest, but what if it doesn't have to be? What if they can be disposable, the way I was in someone else's mirror? Why be the lonely girl with a broken heart when you can be Aphrodite in the flesh, when you can be Venus draped in magnificent sable?
Now Venus's path is strikingly similar to my own. I won't give in to whimsy, or temptation but instead be the temptress. I won't be resolving any controversies because I will be the controversy. There will be no slip up's because The Goddess Of War is on my side.
To read more about Venus in retrograde, go here
I'm beginning a cleanse. As they say, out with the old and in the new. All I have of myself as an artist for the world to see is old and stale, so I am choosing not to let it represent me any further. Consider this an official notice:
Mostly all of my material will be deleted off the internet stratosphere within the next week. All videos, some songs, mostly the only image I have. I need to be rid of it to grace everyone with new, beautiful things. I wish I could spoil everyone with amazing shit, but truth be told it's hard out here for a pimp, and I'm trying my best. It's not that I'm ashamed of my past work, quite the contrary actually. I'm proud that when I had no means and no resources, I still managed to make things happen. I'm proud I devoted myself to creating something and seeing it to the very end. However, it's just too depressing that I've outgrown most of my old work, and it saddens me it's all there is. In the event of this detox, I will be anxious and determined to release new, amazing things. Work that represents who I am today. So get your fill babies, 'cause it's not going to be around for much longer.
I'm pretty sure at least one of you has run away from home, or at least tried. I know I wrote countless goodbye notes to my folks, packing up a few of my favorite toys and my toothbrush lingering in the doorway, as a veiled threat of my fleeing. As an adult, I've managed to stay right here. Never leaving from the safe haven that is home. Perhaps the time has come to relocate. Lately the west coast is calling me...a harmony of opportunity, change, and just challenge. I look around, and people are making their life happen. Promotions, children, marriages, job changes...it all makes me feel so much more stagnant. The life I've chosen can be quite lonely. There's rarely good news, the outlook can always seem grim, and people will constantly try to remind you of the life you should be living - the comfortable, full time job with benefits and a happily ever after somewhere down the line. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have chosen it any other way. The life of an artist can hold adventure and excitement, living on the edge of two realities. The one where people think they know you, and the one where they don't know you at all. I want to start over with people who don't know me at all. I haven't been thriving, I've been a little creatively depleted, and let's face it I'm always feeling blue. A different existence awaits me, a whole other lifestyle where maybe I'm not living in constant fear of my failures. I think this move could do me wonders.
I can always visit during the holidays, and I promise I'll send postcards.
Tonight's the night. Just about an hour ago the full moon in Scorpio's house came into view. Take it in, and let yourself be washed with resurgence and renewal. Since you're in my house, I can give you some insight about what to expect in the upcoming days. Scorpio's energy is anything but demure, so prepare for some demandingly delicious drama.
"Scorpio's psychic-emotional power is both feared and respected. Releasing something at this full moon can feel daunting in some way -- like it's final, no turning back. Scorpio is often called the all-or-nothing sign. If you risk it, and surrender, the rewards are big." - You can read all about it HERE. I am basking in this moons glory quite gracefully. The truth is I always rise to the occasion of coping with my worst. This time should be a cakewalk, a slice of pie. I've been through it all before -- the insecurity, the shame, the fear of becoming nothing and not being good enough. I keep calm and carry on always.
"Instead of checking out, we gain soul power by withstanding, and being creative where we can, in the face of adversity. True confidence emerges when there's nothing to fear within or without."
Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
O these deliberate fools! When they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
This passage is from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. Portia is basically saying when given a choice, they end up losing, referencing the males by calling them fools for doing so. Fools for being moths drawn to a flame, when everyone knows moths circle a flame until eventually it is consumed by it. We are to learn from the age-old moth. It is necessary to point out all things we're drawn to consume us. Is it then not by choice, but by fate? By nature's law, are we to be destroyed by things that blind us with allure? You are a fool if you let yourself sink that low, and I do admit I have been. It is shameful when you resist the urge to trust all instinct telling you to keep away from that flame. Somehow, we end up there again. Somehow I know the outcome, but yet I linger flapping franticly around it. Until you burn do you learn to stay away for good. It's like being a kid and touching a hot frying pan. Never again. Because once you've turned to ash, the flame is no longer as intoxicating.
maybe that is what fate has in store. To LIVE AGAIN ONLY TO PERISH BY that FIRE.
FOOLISH, WITH WISDOM LOST EVERY DAmn time.
I caught the HBO special on everyone’s favorite crooner, ‘ol blue eyes. It was so moving, I absolutely loved how it showed so many more sides of him than I ever knew. I have a special love for Sinatra that runs so deep, I had a photograph of his mug shot taped to my wall for years. The crime he was arrested for? Seduction, of all things. I used to listen to his songs during my lowest lows, my teen angst and depression being soothed by his sound like lullabies hushing my sadness to sleep. I still do, and although the mug shot is gone I have three of his vinyls on my wall now, each depicting a sullen Sinatra sitting at a bar, drinking scotch and smoking a cigarette. I think my fascination lies within his Jersey roots, him being from Hoboken always felt like his spirit loomed right in my backyard. I can always hear his voice carry over all of the modern day white noise I’m stuck with. More than any recording artist or movie star, Frank brings my nostalgia to another level. It makes me want to crawl into a time machine back to 1945 so bad, I could cry. Even when he struggled with his own demons; The press judging his every move, alcoholism, and the decline of his success in music…he rose above every hurdle with grace and dignity. He came back only to give us his greatness, which only further proves we can’t be at our best without having been at our lowest. He will forever be one of the musicians I most admire…for his sophistication, for his conviction…
but mostly for that iconic voice.
Little Red has been laid to rest. She is an immortal entity not gone for good, but her and the entire world she existed in has folded up shop. I've got to let go. I have to cut the ties of this odd mother-child relationship. I clung to this for quite a long time, nurturing it as it sprouted it's own ideas and veins that pumped more brilliance into it's meaning. I'm just not in a place to give it the life it deserves, and the world is simply not ready to hear it. however it is not my end-all, be all. I have not exhausted all my creative juices into one project. Maybe I feared I had, and my desperation to finish it came from wanting to move on, so it could no longer haunt me. The journey I took to write this album taught me so much of my own character, and helped me grow beyond any limitations I ever put on myself. Working on the material for so long put me in this sort of fog, but it's where I feel my creativity was really fine-tuned . The truth is I have so much more to give, so much more to share. Just because Little Red is hanging up her cape, doesn't mean I'm hanging up mine. There's still fight left in me, and it's going to get bloody. until next time, red.
I am guilty of being a 'fifty shades' fan. I read the three part series some time ago and as far as erotica goes I can admit it wasn't a literary masterpiece, but it has undoubtedly had an affect on me and our pop culture. It came as no surprise that a film was in the works, and I actually embraced it (even the casting choice for Mr. Grey). For those who have read this book, I'm sure you can guess where my true frustration lies. The graphic nature of the work, along with the high expectations by fans to keep it as true as possible is what surprised me most about the rating. I assumed from the beginning this film was a clear NC-17. Yes, it could be argued that a film with that rating will not reach a wide audience due to limited theatre showings. I did read there would be an NC-17 version, however released later on after the initial R version. But honestly, with the hype surrounding this entire series, I'm surprised they did not take into account what drew the massive following in to begin with, and did not use it to their advantage. Instead, we only got the R rated version of this story, where all the sexually explicit fat is trimmed, until we're left with the romantic love story backdrop. I myself just watched it tonight, and it was exactly what I expected: the sex scenes played out with Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) in all her naked glory, and no peek at what Mr. Grey (Jamie Dornan) was packing (to be fair, we got about a second of bush). My question is what is it going to take for hollywood to level out the playing field? This film would have been a wonderful opportunity to open the public up to the idea that male genitalia shown in film doesn't have to be raunchy or pornographic. Too bad the attitude of our leading man doesn't help:
"You want to appeal to as wide an audience as possible without grossing them out. You don’t want to make something gratuitous, and ugly, and graphic…"
Whichever woman feels "grossed out" by the sight of a penis on the big screen shouldn't and won't be watching this movie. not to mention This film didn't need a wider audience, in fact the intention of it...well, it's just shady. This series sold roughly ninety-two million copies and was translated into fifty two languages. Releasing this film under an NC-17 rating would have still raked in millions. I could understand if we were talking about a lesser known pioneer (Here's where I mention the brilliant Lars Von Trier's Nymphomaniac) however this film had generated more than enough buzz so what's the real reason? Is it wild to imagine that women who read these books actually expected and rather wanted to see these fantasies play out realistically? Instead of celebrating this open curiosity women have encountered by reading, we're making the idea of seeing it come to life tasteless and perverse. The fact is, full-frontal nudity provided by a male actor is one of pure shock and horror, even if nobody bats an eyelash at female breasts, or even bush making an appearance now and then. Granted, I might be coming off a little harsh as I'm sure certain audience members who aren't used to seeing such material might have fainted at the sight of an erect Christian Grey. Because of this, it would have made sense to have filmed and released both versions at the same time for those with a more experienced palate, such as myself. I am pleading with hollywood to wake up to the inequality of nudity in film. It's a very pathetically outdated notion considering the impact Fifty shades and it's descriptive nature has had on women of all walks of life. It's just not fair. I say, when you're a filmmaker lucky enough to know your audience and what they want, just give it to them. I do hope they'll consider this for the next two films or else they can expect an angry mob made up of horny housewives and twenty-somethings like myself.
I cannot reside here without affirmation. I cannot be part of the regime without falling to the feet of the leader. I cannot march with the soldiers without pledging my loyalty to the movement. But what if the movement is my own too? What if it was started in my bedroom, behind closed doors before anyone could understand? i assumed eventually i would have to bend my own rules and put a cap on my expectations. I always knew I had to prove myself until the very end. I always knew this life would hold many obstacles. i'll admit though, I expected to find compassion, and to be nurtured eventually. all movements need sustenance, the force that drives it growing stronger each day. sometimes we need motivation outside of ourselves to remind us the POSSIBILITIES are real. your destiny is also my own, because we share the same dream. We want the world to pay attention. I am not a traitor to the cause, or a false follower. I am devoted to the movement because we are the movement.
I'd like to make a toast. Dedicated to the new year, but also to the one we leave behind. A toast for all those who suffer from boredom and loneliness, and are therefore determined to making a change happen within the next three hundred and sixty-three days. I find the most hopeful people are those that have come out of their darkest hour unscathed. I'd like to make a toast to fresh starts and clean slates. Laying the past to rest, and recognizing what will be will be. I do believe life has a very distinct pattern of highs and lows. Like gravity, when what goes up ultimately comes down. So if you had yourself a rather lackluster 2014, keep your chin up and look on to the future. It is warm and bright if you'll only shed the light on it. Nothing drags us down more than a negative perspective...not even gravity.
Happy New Year
Passionate young lady seeking a well-mannered, good humored gentleman. Must be open-minded, free to be influenced by experience, and intriguing enough to keep me on my toes. A sparkling conversationalist lacking pretentious thought or overbearing opinion. Accepting and trusting, but not to be walked all over. A man with grit and brawn, but gentle vulnerability. A man who picks the restaurant, and buys you flowers for no reason. A man who offers to pick you up from work so you won't be cold waiting for the train. A man who pays for your coffee, or at least offers. A man who notices when you've cut your hair, and compliments all the little things about yourself nobody notices. A man who makes me pleased to please him. A man I can be myself with, who passes no judgement but gives the best subjective advice when needed. A genuine man who won't make you play games. A man who gives me chills, but won't use it against me. A man who doesn't listen to EDM on his car rides to work, drinks jager bombs, or plays beer pong. A man who doesn't show his friends that nude pic you e-mailed him. A man that doesn't pretend to show interest only to stop all communication, providing no honest reason. A man who sticks to his laurels please, and no more wishy-washy arrogance. If this dream man exists somewhere in the universe, please feel free to drop a line.
Passive-aggressive, psychotic, obsessive, lying, immature, boy-men need not reply.
I used to love the holidays. There was a time when the wreaths that hung on doors, all the christmas trees that glowed in the windows, and all the lights excited me. I enjoyed that christmas felt like it lasted all month long, encouraging people to be a little nicer and less naughty even if there wasn't a Santa (whom I actually believed in until I was about twelve). Then I grew older, worked a couple years in retail and all the magic of Christmas was gone. These days, the closest we get to a miracle on 34th street is grabbing the last fifty inch flatscreen half off. I have seen the ugly side of the holidays. When the greedy in us rears it's ugly head and has us standing in crazy lines and showing up for black friday on Thanksgiving night before we've barely digested our turkey dinner. It's not entirely our faults, though. The driving force behind the consumerism in this country is to draw us further away from the heart of the holidays, or rather cloak it all in materialism. At the very least, we should be kind to one another, to love those closer to you a little more and appreciate their existence, as well as your own. To show gratitude for the little things, and remind ourselves some have it far worse. Remember, while you're scoring all those deals on black friday (but really thursday) most of the employees helping you left their families at home on Thanksgiving, and spent the evening making sure all you shoppers got what you 'needed'. So next time you're catching that warm and fuzzy commercial that's advertising a one day department store sale remember what it's really about. And always be nice to your sales associates.
One of my most treasured methods of self healing was writing letters i'd never send. never meant to be read, or seen by the eyes my words were directed to. it is my favorite coping mechanism that allows me to say everything i need to, in all my gloriously clever ways without being interrupted or losing my train of thought. almost like free association writing about my pain, or anger, etc. i even wrote a song about it once long ago, ORCHESTRATED by a more general, "to whom it may concern" agenda. i haven't done this in quite some time though, and I even managED to somehow step outside my comfort zone and actually mail one of these elusive letters. not that i regret it or anything, but it certainly didn't reach the party in the way it was supposed to and didn't help my cause much. come to think of it, i had this peculiar dream around the time i sent the letter that sort of speaks volumes now, but i didn't completely understand at the time. I remember seeing a room filled with nothing but letters hung up on the walls, and in piles on the floor. Actual physical letters of the alphabet, all 26 randomly hanging around not really spelling anything but just garishly THERE. something caused this very room to BECOME suddenly infested with all kinds of insects. I WAS forced to hire an exterminator, because the insects were spilling out into the rest of the house. a house that of course looks nothing like my own, as it often does in dreams. anyway, i think now i understand tHE LETTERS HOUSED IN THIS ROOM REPRESENTED EVERYTHING I EVER SAID OR WANTED TO SAY, ALL THE WORDS I NEEDED TO BUILD, WHILE THE INFESTATION WAS SYMBOLIC OF ALL THE INTENTION BEHIND THEM ROTTING AWAY. I HAD TO FUMIGATE ALL THE NEGATIVITY. i think this dream came to me to remind me to REBUILD THOSE words, WITH NEW INTENTION.
TO WRITE LETTERS AGAIN FOR NO ONE BUT MYSELF.