91 Days Later

It's been 91 days since I posted anything here. Shocking? To be quite honest - not really.

A lot can happen in 91 days; my father passed away 86 days ago, and 7 days ago I completed my undergraduate degree. These are the two big ones, spread at opposite ends of the 91 day spectrum, and the reason of both why I left, and why I'm back here now.

When my father passed away 86 days ago at the beginning of my final term of my undergraduate degree, I couldn't help but feel as though I had lost a lot of momentum. I missed classes attempting to deal with funeral arrangements and I fell behind quickly - it's hard to get back into that 3 month sprint when you've spent so much time with only one foot out of the gate. One slip up and you're out of the running completely - that's how this past semester has felt.

I spent 74 days trying to gain back my momentum, trying to enjoy my last 3 months as a student and to cross the finish line at full speed with my arms raised high in celebration - and I did. But the truth is that now that it's done, I'm lost.

For the first few days after my final papers were handed in I occupied myself with cleaning and organizing my room and my life. I can breathe again in my own space and not feel claustrophobic and closed in by the mountains of papers and research piled high across my desk. But then the daily 'to-do list' dwindled away, and now I'm just lost.

I spent yesterday curled up in bed, crying on and off as I switched from old episodes of Criminal Minds, to Court TV, to Real Housewives (Beverly Hills), to Dragons Den and finally settling on old episodes of Friends for the remainder of my day. I couldn't stand the quiet, so I filled my entire day with noise, counting down the minutes until RS would be home from work. And even then I couldn't get it together long enough to ask him how his day was without bawling my eyes out.

I'm not the type of person who relishes doing nothing - I need to be excited and passionate about something, anything. And so I think back to the things that I've been passionate about over the years - I think about this blog and my love affairs with human sexuality, painting, drawing, sketching, doodling, writing, daydreaming. I think therefore I am, and I think therefore I plan.

Long story short - I'm back.

FAITHFULLY YOURS,

Seven Minutes Before Work

The night is slowly fading, giving way to the newly dawning day. 6:38am. My first thoughts lend to impracticality and disdain for being awoken before my set alarm, but the sudden cool gentle breeze that sweeps gently over my breasts and a soft touch against my inner thigh gingerly usher the disdain away. I yawn and stretch and feel the rippling of desire stirring between my legs.


"Good Morning," he whispers, his breath now warm against my breasts. I can feel his smile as he gathers my budding nipple between his teeth, teasing me gently out of sleep's lingering grasp.

With a sudden sense of urgency he slaps my ass and orders me up and out of bed, to which I happily comply and scurry off to the washroom without any further instruction.

This is the morning ritual.

When I return with my bladder empty and my teeth squeaky clean, he's sitting on the edge of the bed waiting.


I growl and crawl up under him only to receive a deep guttural rumble in return and a twist to my now fully erect nipples. I let out a small shriek at the touch, and he pulls back, kneading my breast lightly and adorning them with warm gentle kisses.

"They're sensitive this morning," I whisper amongst giggles. He laughs and kisses my cheek.

"What about here?" he asks, digging his two fingers in amongst the folds between my legs. I instinctively let out a little gasp at the touch. He laughs, pressing harder while I squim away.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growls, wrapping his free hand around my neck. I relax and feel the pressure build around my neck and between my legs, and with hot wet kisses to my neck, my body feels fully alive; there is no lingering sleep left here.

He pulls me over to the edge of the bed and lets my feet dangle freely as his hands wander upwards and his kisses more farther away. I feel his breath on my clit, but he dances around it, kissing the crease of my thighs and lingering purposefully along each side of my lips. But his breath returns to my clit, and after agonizing moments I feel the warmth of his tounge begin to trace its edges and finally the warmth of his mouth as he takes me in.

I let out a little sigh.

"It's been a while since you've had this," he whispers, his warm breath toying with my clit.

I only moan in response.
He kisses my clit deeply once more, and the sensation is gone - "Time to go to work," he announces, patting my thigh in consolation.

I look at the clock.

6:53am.

"You have seven minutes!" I whine.
I'm not beneath begging and pleading - not this morning.

"Oh, that's right, I guess I do," he answers with a wry smile, adjusting his pants and unzipping his fly.

"I guess I do."

FAITHFULLY YOURS,

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New Year, Same Old Boston

Before I begin, I must first issue my sincerest apologies - I realize now that it's been more than a month since I've written/posted anything here.

Life has been, well - ridiculous. But isn't it always?

As a student, my life is filled with deadlines, papers, exams, and general burnout at the end of a three month educational sprint. As a student, I must also contend with multiple metaphorical people screaming amongst an equally metaphorical crowd to be heard, with many screaming to be acknowledged as most important amongst the rest. When the noise finally becomes too overwhelming, I simply have to do what I can, and let the chips fall where they may.

Sometimes, this means that the things I want, and the things I actually need, get pushed to the back burner simply in order for the bare minimum of everything else to be done. I regret that this blog, over the last month, has simply been one of those things. So I must apologize not only to those who read my blog, but also to myself for not making my sanity and happiness a priority.

I had planned to write a clichéd post about New Year's Resolutions, but in the past nine days of this new year it has already become abundantly clear that the resolutions I want to make are the one's I won't be able to keep. In good faith, I can't make those promises.

But, in good faith, I am making one promise:

I will, from here forward, make this blog the priority that I need it to be. I can't promise how many posts per week/month that will equal, nor how involved with various memes I will continue to be, but rather that I will not allow this blog to be put on hold at the expense of my own sanity and well-being.

This blog, and my presence online, is a form of self-care for me. I've realized over the past month that I need it - probably more than it needs me - and that I need to make this space, as well as myself, a priority. I can do that only by committing to writing, reading, and commenting on other blogs as much as I feel the need to.

Here's to a new year; to new beginnings and endings, to loose ends and broken resolutions, to a new Boston that's really just the same old one after all.

FAITHFULLY YOURS,