Well, it’s December. Nablopomo is over.  I fail at writing every day. I did, however, write 17 posts which is way better than the 12 I wrote the rest of the year. This?  Is not my year for blogging, apparently. That’s okay, though. It’s been a busy year for life. I’ve been blogging since September

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Times of extreme selfishness generally tend to cause extreme misery.

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…that I notice while sipping tea.

In no specific order of importance.

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You know what? I am tired, tired up to my fucking eyebrows, of people who do not know how to apologize. When you have done something that insults someone, hurts someone, angers someone, bothers someone, when you have fucked up and been called on it and you need to apologize, you fucking apologize. You do

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I am just a girl, in love with her man, addicted to coffee, blogging and all things pink, wrapped up in her own little world, her own little family. I like to type. I like to write. I am not a writer.

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Yanno what I hate?  I mean really fucking HATE? When people try to tell me I’m saying something I’m not.  When they refuse to hear what I’ve actually said and, instead, decide what they think I said and then try to tell me they’re right and I’m wrong. Dude.  Shut the fuck up. *I’m* the

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And that, I think, is why I have so little sympathy for those who let the shit in their lives make them into someone they don’t want to be. I can empathize, to a point, with the horrors and bad shit people go thru but I have no sympathy for letting it turn you into a nut.

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You’ll feel a hell of a lot better if you stop trying to be better and just… be yourself.

And there you have it. The cure for I’mbetterthanyouitis.

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From “wow, what a good day it’s been” to “fuck you” to “holy 80′s brows” in fifteen minutes

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Why do we get so full of ourselves we think we’re owed by these places?

If anything, we owe them.

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I’m ready to toss the book in the toilet, only I have this issue with not finishing books and so I have to finish it or I’d end up losing my mind, digging in the toilet for it, whatever. I can’t not finish a book.

But, back to the bitching…

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It’s stupid to keep aggravation in my life, especially online aggravation from someone who I will never actually meet, never want to actually meet and who has, really, NO redeeming qualities.

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And so I sit here, so much to say, afraid to say it. Continually sanitizing my life, my thoughts and my opinions in the interest of being… nice. Professional.

Blergh.

It sucks ass. It’s sapping the spirit and personality right out of me. I? Am boring.

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So I’m cruisin’ around Fetlife, right? (And, whoa, I just realized like most of my ranty posts start that way. I wonder if Fetlife ever feels used?)

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I came to the place where all this works for me by doing a lot of soul searching and introspection, by trial and error and, in the end, by making a conscious and deliberate choice.

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Can I bitch about people again today? Please? I’m still sick — sicker, actually — and everyone is aggravating me.

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So life around here is normal.  It’s been normal and good with few bumps other than the normal ones caused by a submissive housemouse picking up a job for a good, long time. It’s been, what?  A year?  Since I had angst? Ack. I need angst! Actually, I do have stuff I angst over.  It’s

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So I’m cruising around FetLife this morning and I’m all blinking at my monitor, making gaping fish faces and pretty much sitting here slack jawed. Holy hell. There are a whole lot of people I like on Fet but, for the most part, it’s become a cesspit of retardation. I read no less than ten

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Headspace.  Remembering your place. Blah blah blah.  Yet another topic I’ve grown weary of.  (So, yes, I talk about it more.  How much sense does that make?) I think I used to put a lot of importance on the little things, the direct dominance type stuff that would put me in the proper headspace to

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So, if you follow kaya around on Fetlife you’re bound to come across some of the funniest and snarkiest and gobsmacking-ist topics. Which, of course, make the best blog fodder. Today I came across one dealing with rules; Masters rules vs community/group rules and which rules take precedence. And I’m all… Duh. Why the fuck

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So.  FetLife.  Again, it has me pondering.  I may not participate there much but, I swear to gods, whenever I visit I end up with a blog post. Lately there have been some discussions about who comes first; child, master or self. And I’m kind of floored at the responses. I mean, first of all,

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I did a post not so long ago about attention seeking behavior. I have issues with attention seeking behavior. Serious issues. Like… it makes me want to drive a fondue fork into my eye, run shrieking thru the streets and bleed all over the person doing it; cover them in eyeball juice then smack them

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Every time I see a discussion titled slave vs submissive, I damned near get lock jaw from clenching my teeth so hard. I am not about to get into the debate regarding what the difference is.  As far as I’m concerned, there freakin’ isn’t one.  Not in the way most folks mean when they talk

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  Yeah, I got some.  In fact, I slept until nearly one in the afternoon today.  But why, you may ask, when I went to bed at like….  oh…  NINE last night?   In a word — Taylor. See, I’m out of ambien.  This is a huge bummer because I’m a chronic insomniac (and have

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How do you all feel about gossip and rumors and the whole “black list”, warning people about others, thing? I’ve always been kind of on the fence until I recently had some gossip about Taylor kind of blow up in my face. I’m not going to deny I gossip as much as the next person.

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