Ice and music

Driving in the car, jamming to Coolio’s “Gangster’s Paradise” with one’s 9-year-old nephew, both singing along, is one of the coolest things.

He had gone with me to an ice hockey game. That in and of itself was awesome, and we both had a great time. The coaches even gave him a special puck with the team name on it after the game, and he was beyond delighted. He also conveniently took my sweatshirt with him into the house at the end of the night… the sweatshirt that was in support of the team we were there to see. Also, as we walked out of the facility, there were fireworks happening right out in front of us, for some nearby event, apparently. But it felt like fireworks in celebration of the team’s win. Even though he commented on how it sounded painful, everyone slamming into the walls and each other and smacking the puck so loudly, he is interested in trying ice skating and, potentially, ice hockey itself. That wasn’t the intention of the night, but it is certainly a positive reinforcement of his having had a good time at the game.

Just before going inside before the game, we had sat in the car for several minutes, pulling up song she wanted to hear. They were all cool rap/r&b-type songs. On the way home, he had a few dreadful little kid-type rap songs on request. After a few, though, their time was finished. So, I put on one of the songs of the genre that I most loved as a child: “Gangster’s Paradise” by Coolio. He had said he didn’t know the sigh when I had asked him. Once it started playing, however, he had recognized the song.

And so, we jammed to it together. And then, during the chorus, I realized that he was singing along with me. And, somehow, that was just the greatest.

I feel like we had some really great bonding tonight together, my nephew and I. I have wanted to do that for quite some time, so I was extremely grateful that it turned out that only the two of us were going to the game tonight – no sisters this time. Afterward, he asked to come with me I another game, but only he, not his sisters. He only wanted the two of us there, which was super wonderful to hear for me.

Post-a-day 2021

I Am Woman

Today, I wore my brand new leather corset. I told a friend about it and how I looked fabulous, and how I hoped that brightened his day a little bit. He replied that, if there are no photos of it, it didn’t actually happen. So, I had my girlfriend take a few photos of me in it, and, not only did I share a photo with the original friend who requested the photos, but I shared them online. And that is really exciting for me, because they are fabulous: even though I am laughing and being silly in the photos themselves, that corset looks amazing on me in them.

Proud of myself for being bold and being proud of who and how I am physically, and for sanding up for that sexy woman I truly am and work to be every day.

Post-a-day 2021

Breakthroughs of all sorts

踏み出す, fumidasu, stepping forward into that is next – that is my kakizome for this year, my intention expressed through calligraphy and hung in the wall where I see it almost every single day, multiple times a day, both consciously and unconsciously.

Today, I really did that – I stepped into who and how I want to be. In a situation that made me very nervous, I went ahead and spoke up, asked for what I thought I wanted, messed up a bit, figured it out, asked for what I really wanted – an extremely unreasonable request for the rest of my life -, and then I got it.

And It Was Spectacular. It was just what I needed, on all accounts. I am extremely grateful to God and the Universe for supporting me through all of this and for helping me speak up, now, and ask for what I want and need, especially when I am most uncomfortable to do so. Thank you, God and Universe. I love you all.

Post-a-day 2021

“$1500 for a leather bustier?”

“It lifts and separates. Plus, it’s not like I’m actually paying for it.”

Well, I have taken two half steps regarding my by Christmas goals and intentions and its addendum. While not undergarments per se, I procured today, somewhat unexpectedly but with much delight and enthusiasm, a leather corset. Yes, corsets are kind of instead of a bra, but this one is of the style to be worn on the outside of one’s clothing or, simply, as one’s clothing. Think steam punk kind of corset. Heart shaped neckline, green alligator print center panel, and dark green, smooth leather for the rest of it, with tarnished silver clasps in two columns in the front and laces in the center back.

And oh, my gosh, does it look amazing. On me, I mean.

We were at RenFest, and I had just wanted to try the styles on to see how I liked the idea of, one day, getting a leather corset for myself. I always saw this blue and black one on the front gate of this particular shop, and kind of longed for it or something like it in my life.

So, after much hesitation and working through if mental struggled, I asked if we needed to have on a shirt to try on the corsets – all other women had been in blouses, so far as I had seen, and my piece-of-leather top would not work with a corset. When the answer was an emphatic negatory, I asked if I could go ahead and try one on, then, and if someone would dress me in it. The man who had originally stared conversation with me about the shop and its/his family told me that I absolutely could and that he could help dress me. So, he did. And he did a wonderful job.

I loved the straight-across one I tried first. Actually, it was second, because the first straight one was actually too large. He was clear about that quite quickly, when the laces went all the way in, almost immediately. But, once I got the next size down, I found that I liked the straight one on me.

I spoke up, however, and requested to try on the other shape just to see it on me, too, even though they’d said it tended to be more of a style worn by bustier women, a group of which I am certainly not part. They thought there were none around in my size, but the one guy came walking up with two in his hands – they had been on front display, and so hadn’t been tested at all or purchased. A blue and a green one. The blue was very much the blue of a friend of mine, and not my liken of blue. The green was an earthy, olive-y green. I selected the green to try, though after hearing my mom’s opinion and hat of the shopkeeper’s. When he had finished lacing me into it, and I turned to look myself over in the mirror, I was somewhat shocked. Not only did it look nice on me, it looked gooood. Kind of to the point that a small part of me wondered who else – beside myself – had a sudden urge to grab me and rip my clothes off of me in a fit of instant and utter desire and lust. It looked that good. I looked that good.

I knew I wanted it. I knew I wanted to be the person who would wear it confidently and proudly, yet humbly and gratefully. As it would be a significant investment, however, I took my time considering whether to purchase this one, here and now, or to wait for another time, even possibly to have one custom-made instead. To consider whether this green would be as much of a delight as my earlier-desired brown.

While I considered, several women, eyes bulging when they registered me, commented supporting comments to me or near me about the corset on me. The shopkeeper kindly informed me that 1) several women had said I needed to get the corset, and that 2) I looked spectacular in it. He was being genuine, and it meant a lot that had had given his personal opinion, as I knew he was not just trying to be flirtatious or just sell something.

Seeing as how it was actually quite cold out, I eventually removed the corset, and dressed back in my leather too and skirt and faux-fur cloak to finish considering with a not-shaking body and a warm conscience. Once dressed again, I could think more clearly. I wanted first to see the dark green leather in the sunlight. I wanted to confirm that it stood out as clearly not-black in sunlight. I’m not a black person. Earthy tones and natural tones galore, sure, but not black.

The second thing was the tougher thing. I told my mom, ‘I have a small part in me that worries I will be slutty, a slut, and whore in this,’ and, ‘I think I just need to be told that it is okay and safe for me – for me – to wear this.’ Due to my history with certain men, there is still a part of me that is scared with things like this. While I am always gentle with her, I always acknowledge what she has to say before firmly telling her what’s truly so. When my mom said what I felt I needed to hear – though I already knew it to be true – that scared girl within me calmed down, and I finally was able to choose freely for myself.

Naturally, I chose the corset.

And, boy, am I glad I did. I can hardly wait to wear it.

Post-a-day 2021

What a week

Ovulation is funny to me. The body takes roughly a week to send out scents to attract the best man to reproduce the most effectively. The brain jumps on board and does a mental calculation of every potentially available man it has ever met. It also sends out hormones and emotions that make the body feel really good and healthy and well, as well as the desire to stop off all clothes, be cuddled lovingly, and romp in the sack for hours on end, days on end. Life feels, somehow, entirely possible, and love feels imminent. And even a touch from a handsome man makes everything turn alight with flame. And sleeping is difficult, and dreams are annoying, and waking up is hard, both for the end of the dream to find oneself alone and for the battle the brain undergoes trying to wake up but trying to satisfy the body’s desires. And being around men is difficult, and being near-constantly and easily aroused feels absurd and annoying. It is a week in which one must be careful not to grow too weak in one’s resolve, as one’s mind seems to seek out any and all possibilities for, first, interacting with a man and, second, copulating with him. It is probably the week that most women reach out to men they like, even a little. It is likely the week with the most sex in a woman’s life. It is certainly the week made for sex in a woman’s life… It is a week of constantly having to chill the f*** down in the loins and head, and aim to remember who one really is, aside from a means of continuing the species. It is a week where loyalty seems irrelevant, and every man sounds like a great option; even several at once sounds, absurdly, entirely reasonable and desirable.

All of that is, simply, because we were made that way. Just a bit bizarre, I think…

What a week…

Post-a-day 2021


Yup. Everything is perfect exactly when and how it is. We get exactly what we need when we need it, and we end up exactly where we need to be exactly when we need to be there.

This morning, I got myself to open gym before having to go in to work. I was mostly on my own at the gym, with only the owner and a private training session guy there when I arrived (and the owner’s dog, of course). The music was great and jamming and chill, and the workout was up on the screen, so I happily got to work. I knew I couldn’t do the whole workout, but I was fine with that. I did the fastest 5k of my life yesterday morning, so I was okay regarding cardio. And I had to go straight to work, so I didn’t want to get super sweaty, anyway. Just doing the weightlifting part of the workout would be fine. If I could also do the abs closer, that would be great, too. (It didn’t happen, by the way, the abs part, due to timing.) The sun was shining, it was 8:30-ish (which is way later than my usual exercise), the dog was napping in the sunlight, and we all were enjoying the fresh, crisp air of the morning. People had been walking past the open gym door since I’d arrived, so I’d only partly paid attention to them after the first few times. However, one of the passers-by seems to be coming inside. As I turn and look directly at him, my brain takes a few moments to process what I actually am seeing, whom I am seeing.

He had said he was out of town until Sunday, but that he would be at the gym Monday morning. However, he had been saying that he would be at the gym many times in the past several weeks, though he made it only you around four or five workouts in the past two months… I was beginning to give up on him. But I had checked in on Tuesday just to see what his deal was. He had told me he was in Austin until Sunday. And yet here he was, on Friday morning, walking in to open gym.

I tell you, when my brain fully grasped whom I was seeing, my stomach – and deeper – somersaulted and shivered. My face had a massive smile, and I know my whole being lit up. For both his benefit and my own, I was glad that he was here in the gym. We hadn’t seen each other in what felt like far too long. I had been missing him. We hugged intensely, and I didn’t want to let him go. It felt to be a mutual desire.

Later, as I was passing by him to get to the rings, as I always do with my touch-y self, I gently placed my hand on his shoulder when I passed. He was sitting on a lifting bench, facing me, and ever so slightly raised his hand in response, just grazing the back of my thigh. It wasn’t sexual, no. It was just intimate, in a loving way. For whatever reason, almost since I first met him, I’ve just wanted to hold him and be held by him. Today, in its odd little way, the Universe gave me a taste of that. My morning and day were already set as wonderful today. But that little bit of his showing up and our hugs and gentle loving touches, that set a golden edge to all of it, giving me a certain satisfaction that I rarely have these days. It was perfect, really.

And then, at work, just the perfect person showed up, someone massively important to me from my childhood. We had an unexpected few-minute emotional and powerful conversation, complete with tears and hugs, and tentatively planned to spend real time together in the near-ish future.

Also, the taco someone ordered for me was spectacular and within my dietary desires.

And work felt easy today, on so many levels.

And, leaving work, I walked with a new girl who seemed neat. Turns out, she’s half French, and we spent most of our walk in French together.

And all of that only went to 3:30pm today… It was just an amazing kind of day today, just what I needed in so many ways, and I am grateful. Thank you, God and the Universe, for such love as I felt and experienced today. Thank you.


Post-a-day 2021

Turkey Day, run away

Today, we ran the Turkey Trot, my mom, folks from my gym, and I. A handful of them ran the 10k, and another handful and my mom and I ran the 5k. I surprised myself.

Of course, it was pouring rain off and on for the start of both runs, but cleared up fully just as the 5k started (at least, until an hour and a half later, when it wasn’t too relevant anymore). I had my running rain jacket on until the start of our run, at which point, as the skies looked clear and the rain had stopped, I tied it around my waist. An annoying appendage for a whole 5k, but it was worth it for keeping my body and hair and clothes mostly dry before the run.

My shoes ended up soaked, but not until about a third of the way into the run.

I pushed myself, and very much so. I have not trained with running, of course, so I had no idea how fast I could go. My ankle bone was out of place only five weeks ago, and has felt still a bit wonky this past month, so I haven’t really been running even in the workouts at the gym lately, and those are just 200-800m runs. And yet, here I was, prepared to walk, if at any point my foot/ankle needed it, running a 5k and giving it my best.

At just about halfway, one of the girls from my gym popped up next to me, calling me a smokes something or other. I, too, had expected her to be far ahead of me, and I had been keeping an eye out ahead for her, just in case I might be able to catch up to her. But she had been behind me for the first mile and a half. From then onward, though, we ran together. Apparently, my presence alone pushed her. Her pace thereby challenged me. And I, even aloud, gave a, “F***ing S—-,” in regards to our gym owner and programmer. He makes some amazing get amazingly challenging programming, and he is always challenging us to push ourselves. Always safely, but truly. And this morning, he was stuck in my head. I felt like a little kid who wanted to make his teacher proud, planning to tell him just how much I had stayed on top of myself to keep it up, lift up my legs more, take longer strides, breathe deeply, and crush it.

And, in multiple ways, I did. He always says that, it we’re throwing up, we’re doing it wrong. So, I limited myself there this morning – I was getting very close to my body’s demanding a vomit, and so shared that with the girl, just to let her know that I might not be able to stay with her. I only got a few meters behind her on the final quarter-mile stretch, finishing only a couple seconds after she finished (which, oddly, was finishing my race a few seconds faster than she had hers, as I began behind her at the start). Regarding results, I looked it up. Had I done the timed race, I would have been ninth in my gender-age category. And that is really cool. What’s most important to me about it all is that, by pushing myself and keeping on top of it and letting go over and over and over again if my mental strains, I ended up getting, without any running practice in the recent past, my fastest 5k time ever. And my EVEN 8:20 splits (8:21, 8:29, and 8:23 to be exact) we’re not only the fastest I’ve gone on a 5k, but the second fastest mile time I’ve had period.

Basically, it was really cool.

After the run, I grabbed some cookies and bananas, and rushed to the kids’ 1k run to see my nephew and nieces finish their run (if they were even there, which they turned out to be, since the rain had cleared up). I didn’t see them run, but I did see them all just after they crossed the finish line, and the point was for them to feel supported, which they did. So, when, upon surprising them with my presence, I congratulated them and offered them cookies and then a banana, too, I think their days were made.

Anyway, the whole affair certainly made my day. And running into two of my old students made it extra-special. My legs are sore, especially my lower thighs. They can really feel my lack of running, I suppose, though they were clearly able to take it, thanks to all the programming at our gym. Hopefully, they’ll feel okay tomorrow!

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving, folks. I grateful for all, and I send out my love to you, whoever you are, whenever and wherever you are. May God continue to bless us all. Amen.

P.S. On the dating app, sometimes guys say that their personal hell is families who do 5ks on holidays. I suppose one for me would be families who don’t. I am grateful for my blood family and my gym family. We were a dream team this morning, k-ing on a holiday, even in the pouring rain. Thank you, God, for these families of mine.

Post-a-day 2021

Sharing is caring

I have a lot to say. I started wondering back in college if, provided I had someone who wanted to know about my everything every day and always, someone who listened to it all and asked about it all, would I feel such a need to talk so much? I’m regular conversations, I regularly feel like I could write a whole paper on what I want to say ok that particular topic. I even think about it after the fact, and there I find even more things I want to add to the conversation. But the conversation has ceased. I imagine the person is no longer – if ever he was – interested in what I have to say on the matter.

Tonight, I was sharing about college perspectives and my own experience with selecting a college. After sharing what I shared, I then came back to the messages several minutes later to add more. Then, after showering, I recalled that I had forgotten to share something I had very much wanted to share, and I had discovered something else that I wanted to share about colleges and all. And yet, here I am, unsure as to whether it would be valuable to share. I want to share it for this person’s benefit. But would it be too much information at that point? Would it do the opposite of its intended purpose?

I don’t know.

But I shall think on this… I’m leaning toward sharing it as a ‘I know I said a lot, but it’s a big topic, and here’s my third cent on it…’

Yeah, definitely leaning in that direction now.

Post-a-day 2021

Fearing love

I’m in love with a stripper

Okay, obviously, I am not, but do you remember that song? It’s been chilling in my head tonight, and it has me wondering: How often do people find themselves in love with an unavailable, non-option individual? How often can people’s love not be reciprocated? And, on that note, how often can they be reciprocated, yet they are not?

I think there might just be a lot of lost love out there. How do we help those who feel so unloved, who have intense unreciprocated love or merely a denial of love, possibly again and again?

Perhaps we need only begin with loving ourselves fully and truly, and then, when we see ourselves fully, we can see and therefore love others truly and fully for exactly who they are.

Just a thought… I shall consider deeply my role in this is my daily life, especially where I presently feel most uncomfortable sharing and being love with and for others. Those uncomfortable ones are probably the situations most in need of my love, I do suspect.

God and Universe, please, give me the strength and the will to be your love in all that I am and all that I do.


Post-a-day 2021

Missing… nothing

I had dinner with my dad tonight for the first time in quite a while, and it was just wonderful. In a way, I have missed having breakfast with him every week, and the occasional dinner these past few months. However, I have been so bizarrely and utterly fulfilled by my work that I haven’t really missed him. We have still chatted on the phone to check in, and we’ve had breakfast or lunch a few times since August, as well as plenty of texting. But that had been enough – I haven’t needed more lately. And I only just noticed that.

Perhaps, after this Thanksgiving week ends, I will be needing more time with those who love me clearly, as I very likely will be missing all of those kids and that amazingly fulfilling work teaching and being at school every weekday. I don’t miss it yet, because school isn’t in session. I think it will hurt on Monday, though, especially after a whole week off.

Dear God and Universe, please help me to transition with ease into my next role in fulfilling your will in this world through me. Amen.

Post-a-day 2021