MEComposing

thank you
for the dark times
that you held my hand
and helped me see things
in a rational light
thank you
for the tears that
hurt you to see fall
from my eyes
and all the little things
that you do
to bring a smile
to my face again
thank you
for the steady assurance
of your faith in me
and the things that i do
and the ready acceptance
of who i am
who i am becoming
and who i was
even before i met you
thank you for hugging me
and for getting equally bothered
when things aren't going well
for me
thank you
for wanting to spare me pain
and protect me from any harm
and for loving me
just as i am

thank God
i was one of the lucky ones
who found a friend like you
thank God
that through the years
you're always there
when am blue.

- impromptu, today

*~*

The funny thing about being principled is that it will always hurt. The weird thing about teaching someone a lesson is you also learn with the teaching. The bad thing about being a strong, independent, and empowered woman (as I believe myself to be) is that there will be choices you'd make that will hurt the people who loves you the most. The painful thing about truths these days is how easily it can be manufactured as lies, or modified to suit one's needs. The ironic thing about the people you know is, strangers sometimes are kinder to you than the people who you consider to already be your friends.

The wonderful thing about tribulations though, is that, your life gets trimmed of superficial relationships and preoccupations... and only the people who truly love you remains...

There are a lot of people I owe "thank you's" to... but I hope you know who you are who am truly indebted to...

Love you bestfriend...

(on a side note... deym, i miss my other close friends)

WELCOME TO THE CHRISTIAN WORLD

JOSEPH PYRO



*~*

By the way, I have been a major b!tch and pain in the a$$ for someone. Well, he deserves it.

I know I have a rep created by the way I am over the net, but capitalizing on that, and making me appear a liar... aside from lying to me and using me, although unbeknownst to me, sure justifies what am doing to him...

HE had it coming!!!! He wronged the wrong woman... and he's going to feel every painful consequence possible of doing so...

CAPTURED. That's how they call themselves. Well, first of all, congratulations and best wishes to Mr. Alvyn and Mrs. Anna Cruz who tied the knot last Valentines at San Agustin Church, with reception at this garden setting at The Fort. Joni (guy right of bride) said he's started saving up for his own wedding three years from now. Jojo at left of groom is going to get married next year.

Captured, they say. Meaning, when they met their women, they just cannot be with another. Meaning, they refuse to have somebody else. Meaning, they fell in love then, are in love now and will always be in love with... their significant others.

Captured. What a nice thing to be in this day and age.

*~*

Caught my nephew on video while he's trying to walk. He's getting baptized on the 22nd.

*~*

Lova Palooza beat Chile's existing record. Hoorah for MisB and the others.

*~*

I'm starting to think that it's best for Philippines to finally allow divorce here. I am not for it... I don't think i'll ever support nor really understand it. But I think it's a better option to take than annulling marriages.

Case in point, Janice de Belen's marriage to John Estrada is in the process of getting annulled. And I couldn't help but be offended. How dare people... have a marriage nullified just because they've found another partner to be with? How dare a man say that the woman who has given him a lot of kids and who has taken care of him and loved him and was faithful and loyal and supportive of him... was not married after all... in all those years?

Better end a marriage with divorce. Be responsible enough to admit to being irresponsible and say out loud "WE CANNOT HACK IT". That is less detrimental I think for kids, instead of telling them, that they weren't really borne out of a committed love and nurtured within a marriage.

*~*

Somebody was kind. I got flowers for Valentines. :)

I started with just pictures of my legs and thighs...

And then I wanted to replicate a certain cleavage shot (yeah, the one roving in this blog, taken around 2 years ago)... which led to a lot of pictures of my breasts... with that extra emphasis on my nips.

Boracay also happened and found me having this henna tattoo done so low in my back, it's kissing distance from my crack. Got a picture of that too.

Then Galera happened and suddenly I have topless pics in bed. Pictures of me taking a shower too.

And then, and then...

The first bedroom show... pics of me just freshly showered... from toweling up to putting on lotion... to wearing my denim shorts...

The office show... pictures of me undressing and dressing up... pictures of me topless while posting...

Then the Davao show... pictures of me before and after taking a bath...

Even pics of my legs have grown to be more... raunchy... more suggestive...

And then the second bedroom show... THE ULTIMEYT so far... where I shot myself (freshly showered again) in different degrees of kinkiness... trying to immitate how i'd look in different sexual positions... in different poses of exhaustion and surrender...

Then the Dipolog series... the last so far... where I took glorious pics of my butt and myself looking like am straddling someone... in bed... and looking straight at the camera... and naked...

Sigh...

The point of this post?

The digital camera is one great invention indeed.

my heart skipped a beat
when i saw you were saying HELLO
i thought my mind was playing
tricks on me
i didn't know what's to follow
i remembered the Valentines date
when you gave me a book of poems
i remembered the loving care
the corny jokes you use to console
the drawings of kittens
the white chocolates
the gentle touch
the smirk on your face
i remembered how, though you were never mine
you walked life's path with me in the meantime
i remembered how, though it hurt, you were always true
and it made me feel all the more
how the other guys have been untrue
and when, in tears, i reminisce
about you and me... and the other men
i tell myself, at least, you weren't one of them...


- just yesterday, 5:00 pm, impromptu... so sad...

Jet, thank you for always seeing more than what meets your eyes...

*~*

And the age-old questions are here again:

1) Am I not worth the truth?
2) Am I not worthy of people's confidence?
3) Do I come across as someone who will easily judge a person by his truths?
4) How do I stop other people from using me?
5) What is it about me that makes people I love not want my help?
6) When do I stop caring for people who will only betray my trust?
7) When will I accept things about myself, in order to let a lot of things go?

DA ULTIMEYT LONGING...

One problem with being the passionate, impatient me is... I haven't experienced really long smooches yet.

Allow me to be elaborate.

I just realized recently that I have never contented myself with just a passionate kiss... an exploration of the sweetness and wetness and secrets of each other's mouth... without "spoiling" the kiss with equally eager and exploring hands. Why can't I wait for an hour at least before giving in to the delightful feel of a warm body getting hotter with my fingertips... why do I always have to arch my body so, always silently offering my chest, always clandestinely presenting my upper body for "inspection"... Why do I have to be so obvious that I enjoy it when a man starts kissing my neck, my breasts... thereby forever breaking the passionate liplock for other pleasures. Why can't a man keep his hands to himself and just slowly tease me to orgasms via my mouth? Why haven't I been with a partner who can take glory in the delaying of other gratifications... why can't I ever torment myself fully clothed, some more?

And then, there's fondling and petting. What could be so hard about just touching each other... and rubbing each other's bodies through your clothes, feeling each other's heat radiating through... getting all the more stimulated by the different fabrics you guys are wearing... I can't even remember the last time I actually really soiled my undies due to extreme wetness... soil them enough to actually show a fleeting stain on my skirt or pants or shorts. (Getting a man THAT wet is easy for me though. I guess it helps that theirs go erect... easier to soil through pants... jeans even!). Why can't I wait just a little bit more time before stripping? And why can't he allow that I keep my clothes on for just a little more while?

And can't I really ever enjoy an hour-long romance with his hands and mouth first... gently, slowly, tormentingly discovering every inch of me... KNOWING every inch of me... Can't I ever experience all the different strokes and pressure levels his fingers can bring? Do I really always have to tie a man up in order for him to just allow me to touch him... tease him... kiss him all over? What is so wrong about such an exploration? Why always the rush... Can't we really find bliss in just probing and searching for new heights of desire?

Sometimes, after a profoundly great encounter, i'd catch myself still stroking my lover, or still gently sucking, nipping at his chest, his mouth, his ears... and I'd feel embarrassed for not letting him rest... or for seeming so attached, or clingy, or insatiable. And yet, I also feel deprived somehow. And yet, and yet, is it really so bad to want to glorify first each other's bodies, really worship them by taking our time...? What is so wrong in suckling for a long time? Or body-licking each other? Or tracing circles and lines along hair lines, scars, birthmarks, body contour, etc.

And tell me, where is the man who can stand getting gripped by a really wet pussy? Is it really so hard for him to keep thrusting without getting lost in the sensations? And why can't a man keep his eyes on you or his mouth in yours, while he brings you to ecstasies you've always imagined and wanted, and not always achieve as forcefully?

And why can't I keep my noise limited to gasps and moans. Why do I have to be pleading and begging and demanding for him to plunge deeper and slower and more powerfully-driven inside me? Why can't I wait for an orgasm to subside first before challenging him to give me another one? Is a minute too long a time to waste for a more refined lovemaking? Why can't I be less eager, less willing, less inviting for him to have his way with me... Why can't we prolong his conquering me? Why can't we put off my marking him as completely, essentially, utterly MINE?

And after that, why can't encounters end with us falling asleep in each other's arms... exhausted... spent... sated...

*~*

I figure, i'd need some two hours of just plain liplocking, and then followed by liplocking w/ body rubbing (if his cock is hard and he's rubbing himself on top of me, heck, i'd already be having orgasms surely) with clothes on, then another hour of body rubbing/exploration w/ just our undies on (still kissing, mind you), and then another hour of getting a hundred orgasms from his fingers alone, preferably spoon position... and then, spoon position where i'd be giving him his first orgasm using my hands... and then another hour of uhm... kissing each other's bodies, exploring each other's depths with basically our tongues and lips and sometimes, teeth... and orgasms galore again for me as I ride his face... and a second orgasm for him as I eat his throbbing maleness raw (yeah, yeah, aka 69)... and then.. and then... body rubbing some more to make him erect again for one whole hour of humping... to climax in really intense and sizzling simultaneous orgasms.

Seven hours... it shouldn't be so hard right?

SEXUAL HONESTY, MY POLICY

A friend I were chatting last week, just making kulitan really about nudie pics and lesbian stories involving pubescent girls fingerly stimulated by a mature mentor as they fish in a river on sunny afternoons (aside: i am seriously not posting the pic of me reading that book, but I tell you, it's one really erotically-articulate photo)

Anyway, she told me how her former flame told her recently that she's no longer the best sexual experience of her life (yeah, yeah, both women, them), which of course nicked my friend's ego. And thus, we started talking about how we're not supposed to be forgotten, gotten over or replaced in memory/pedestal as THE BEST, sexually, by our lovers.

A woman, they say, will always have this fervent wish to be a man's last romance (as opposed to a man's terminal wish to be a woman's first real love). Not always borne of a negative self-concept, she will also probably wish that she was and will remain the greatest love of a man's life... "the woman that got away" for him... and so on.

We sexually liberated women who run out of reasons and ways of celebrating just that, however, are more like men I guess in that we'd want to be the greatest, the most intense, the most enlightening/liberating sexual experience our partner has ever had. Sure, he or she is allowed other great experiences. Sure, he or she is allowed a hundred other lovers after us. Sure, he or she is allowed to move on.

BUT

It cannot really help but be a blow to our ego if we find out that we've ceased to be the memory he/she goes back to in times when he/she needs to self-gratify... or that we've ceased to be the one they miss in times of sexual rut...

I don't know, it's really weird. But personally, they're really not supposed to stop wanting me!!! If this guy used to greet me with a hard-on always, I think i'd really still expect that hard-on there when we do meet again. Or, if his eyes would darken from desire just by the sway of my hips, or the sight of my legs, or the tilt of my head a certain way... i'd really expect him to immediately have visions of himself sucking on my choice body parts again. I know i'd always want to have him wonder how it would feel to have me naked and whimpering in his arms again.

Conceited? Maybe.

Insecure? Not necessarily.

Is it listed anywhere in Horney's 10 Neurotic Needs that sexual validation is actually bad? After all, I don't necessarily sully a former lover's reputation just because he appears to have a glorious sexual relationship with a wife/someone else. If ever, this fact only drives me further to really enjoy, explore and maximize my sexual time with a partner.

Still, why the demand for an unfailing command of a lover's lust for myself? Not really sure. But I just really want a lover to be there, really loving me and my body, when we do have sex... and eliciting the same reactions physically, despite changed circumstances, only confirm for me that he really was...

And that is a nice thing right? To know that for a moment, months or years ago, you two were really one.

MY SISTER

She really didn't want to invite friends over for a party at home. But we insisted. Half of her college friends decided to choose Star Struck over going to see her on her 18th birthday. Others went home to provinces. But two of them, living in Antipolo at that, managed to come. And then there was her high school friends. And family, of course. And of course, she cried... a lot. She was disappointed, and am sure, felt very vulnerable. We had to pack all the food and send them with everybody who came...

I let her closest cousin Tin and her high school friends comfort her in my stead. But it was awful... watching her slowly fall apart... and then seeing her also get comforted.

Told her she has much to be thankful for... at least she has pictures to show for yesterday. I didn't have any. And that her cake, although GOLDILOCKS PACO didn't deliver what was agreed upon (if we weren't pressed for time, we'd return it and give Goldilock's hell) was still real nice. And that it's times like that when one gets to realize who really cares about her. And now, she knows...

Anyway, my sister is now 18. Ripe for the plucking. A first year college student in FEU. Going steady with someone I haven't met. Always moody. Always patient and devoted to our nephew. Always borrowing my clothes. Always painting her nails. But always, in all ways, my baby.

*~*

MY DAD

Fought with my Dad. The PMS-y me was already goading him to have me pack my bags and leave home... banished... estranged... and then he hugs me and starts telling me, when I was just a day old, he got really upset because a mosquito bit me... and how, after that, he couldn't rest easy and sleep at nights because he has to be watching over me.

Sigh. From where I'm sitting right now, I still hate my parents. And because i've always been closer with my Dad, I guess I hate him more too. But this much i'll say, I have heard so many times of just how loved I was by my Dad and how happy he was with my coming. And it hurts so bad right now that, as much as I know his love for me hasn't changed, we have to be hurting each other now as we continue to teach each other life's lessons... such as letting go, growing up, forgiveness.