They’re Not Here Any More [Writing101D4]



Ever wonder about your past lovers? Feeling the loss of them from your life? I have a thing for men. I sometimes wonder if I don’t collect them. There are so many that float through my life. However, there are some that remain. Why? How do they survive the madness of me?Others leave. They’re not here any more.

In the past I had written about my “illness.” The one I like to say is in remission. One of the symptoms is having unstable relationships. Relationships that do not last. That’s true. There have been lots of relationships in my life. Men are curious, wanting to know if what they really see is real & true. However, there are a few types of men who show no interest in me and the type of women I am. They find their excitement elsewhere. Perhaps they have a muse of their own and see no need to have another.

The loss, I feel for some of these relationships depends on how much I have invested into the men. There is one man I think of that I didn’t cry over in a mourning that I missed him. Him, his being, everything that he is. I missed him, just for the physical needs he supplied me. He gave me a physical rush of all those addicting hormones popping off in my head. Completely addicted to the game that only he & I play. That’s what I missed about him, not him as a person.

There are some men that have touched my heart so deeply that thoughts of each one crowd the small spaces of my mind. Each one has given me so much in life lessons, both good & bad. Each one of them has touched me emotionally which lasts far longer than anything physical. Like the songs goes “they’re in my heart, they’re in my soul.” Those men are the ones I miss the most. Men that I actually gave a part of me too. There was one, who I gave my heart to, as he cared for it. He broke it, I broke his. Both of us, unwilling to tell the other what happened. Just like in the movie “Sweet Home Alabama” at the wedding scene Reese Witherspoon says to Patrick Dempsey “

“The truth is… I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart… and I never really got it back”

I believe that’s true, for me it was. I gave my heart away so long ago. Never got it back, until a few years ago.

Writing 101  This post is the first of three.

Writing 101
This post is the first of three.

Write a Book

My Beloved, along with a few other close friends keep coming back to the idea of me writing a book. Sure, sounds like a great & fun idea. I would love to write a book. However, I ask myself “who would want to read my waffle? How is my waffle different from any one else’s?”

There is so much information out there, how does a person pick out what to read? My book would have no positive outcome. It would be about relationships, people like me who try to fit into mainstream America but are unable to. What could I possibly write about that would be interesting? Writers write about what they know, Lord knows I know a lot. But it’s not advice or information that would be concerned interesting, helpful or positive. In fact, when it comes to sex. I don’t think I’m a positive influence, because I believe in a lack of emotional commitment. Go out there and fuck. Have fun.

Maybe one day it will come to me. Then I will know it’s time and everything will just fall into place.

Not Safe Here [WW99]

What are some safe sex practices that you include in your writing? I don’t include any safe sex practices in my writings. My writings are based on past experiences when the practice of safe sex was not practiced like it should have been. Read more about my “writing process.” The talk about safe sex was just starting to become important (back in the 80’s). There was the scare of HIV, safe sex was a must for most sexually active people. However, back when I was out of control, when I was impulsive, reckless and self-destructive which included risky behavior. I was not one for safe sex. That’s part of my “illness,”  a self-loathing, YOLO attitude.

It’s been said that writers write what they know. I write about what I know, not practicing safe sex. Not always proud of it. Regret? Sometimes. It’s not a “positive” message to people. My viewpoint is now that most everyone should know about safe sex. Children of the 80’s should have already learned this, passing it onto their next generation. Leads into another viewpoint; it’s a parents responsibility first to teach their children about safe sex and sex in general. Next the school’s responsibility to teach the correct information to kids about the dangers of unsafe sex, etc. And then back to the parents to complete the missing pieces from the educational system.

Do you think this bit of realistic sex should be captured in erotica? My opinion is that it is for the writer to decide whatever to put safe sex in their writings or to leave it out. However, I would lean more towards “leaving it out.” How often does the mainstream media such a blockbuster movies show the beauty of putting on condoms and the afterwards of taking off the condom? Even when I watch a 20 minute porn video, most of the time the scene of a man putting on his condom is cut out. Why? Because it takes away from the fantasy. Because it’s not sexy. Ok, hubby just told me that it can be sexy if a woman does it for him. I just prefer to leave it out.

While many stories are fantastical, normalizing condoms, dental dams, for oral and penetrative sex can be educational to some readers.Try your hand at writing a piece about safe sex, perhaps one that meets the characters where they are at, for the forms of safe(r) sex run the gamut.


Remember to ALWAYS practice safe sex!! Your life depends on it

Remember to ALWAYS practice safe sex!! Your life depends on it


Passionate Gothic Poetry

Smokin' Memory 2I recently cleaned out my office, sorting through piles of stuff. I have always kept hand written journals. I just happen to find a few pages at the bottom of a box. Along with a few phone numbers from some men that I had become friends with. Some phone numbers don’t even have names with them, that can’t be good.

Back in 2008 when I was just starting out online, I was invited to join so many different (NING) websites. One of sites was about Gothic poetry. I was invited by the owner of the site. It was filled with members who wrote about anything & everything that was gothic & dark. Here is the brief start of that part of my journal.

I signed up, for some reason I disappeared after about a month. Returned under a different name. He wrote to me only in poems. It has become a game of poem responses. I don’t know his name. I don’t know anything about him.  It’s a strange turn on, that I was unfamiliar with, but I continued to play along.

TRAPPED [dated: 4/25/2008]

Let Me Out

Always Caged

Let Me Out

Always engaged

Let Me Out

I don’t want to live this way

I promise my love, I will not stray

Let Me Out

Fear not, I promise, I will not bite

Come closer and just let me out

Dare I tell you of my insatiable appetite?


Don’t go

Don’t leave me here – TRAPPED.

BIZARRE PAIN [May 1, 2008]

The bizarre pain I must endure, just so that I can feel alive.

And yet my emotions are so hollow & obscure.

It makes no difference how deep the cut, the next time – I’m not sure I’ll survive. 

Here is the first poem he wrote to me. It’s dated May 10, 2008

Deep within the dark of night, the moon stands out with solo light

A silhouette comes to me,  it pierces sharp. It beckons me.

Who is this?  I dare to say that come with beauty on her way.

 She is the night and in her eyes she steals my soul,  that’s no surprise until the sun makes morning life.

I am a prisoner of the night.

I returned the communication through this poem. [dated May 11, 2008]

Extraordinary talent you possess

I, too used to create for my master so great

Let me confess, I come to him now in my disguise

Keeping from others and their prying eyes 

I wonder could my master see that it is truly me? 

[Dated: May 11, 2008]

No my dear and this is true

I wrote that poem just for you, if you think that I’m not right

Click on my space & check my site

but as for now I leave you this…..a pretty picture and a soft wet kiss

[Dated: May12, 2008]  Master continued with adding something else to my profile page.

Watching you so carefully

Living life so care free

There is no mask to hide your face  

For no one here could take your place. 

The sweet allure of your lips have ended all my lonely trip from site to site

I will prevail and love the heart behind the veil

I received this poem on another website that I belonged to. He had a different name there, but I knew it was him.

Do you know why my eyes are here?

To chase away the things you fear

So deep inside of this empty soul finding you has been my goal

 Now I have from this day on these eyes 

That will watch while I am gone.

He sounds a bit like a stalker, right? I wrote the following on my page. I really sucked at writing. I think when I was really putting in an effort & there was a passion. It soon faded.

Some kittens are very black, it is color that they lack. Others are grey. A kitten may be born with ablaze then grow up only to laze, and may even tend to stray.

This kitten has found a home and will no longer choose to roam for the owner is kind & wise.

Now there will be no more of kitty’s alibis, just curled up by her owner’s feet waiting for that tasty treat.

His reply [May 12, 2008]

Her words come in the night, while she lay asleep with her eyes shut tight

Poems neither Gothic nor deep, she tries to follow master like a lost baby sheep.

I wrote a comment on his profile page. “Who is this master of mine? I know nothing of him other than his work does truly shine.”

He replied of course with a poem. It was after all a poetry site. Although I am not non have I ever been glad with writing like this. I could never write the type of stuff he wrote.

My hair is long to those who know and like my words it doth flow,

but sad am I,  who remain hidden.  My sorrows great,  I am forbidden.

 I am to you like no other.  You’ll always be the poet’s lover,  so close to me is your soul.

My sorrow now doth take their toll. Your words are warmth for me tonight.

I sleep in the mist and say goodnight.

Sadly, I couldn’t keep up the writing. It was too difficult to write like that. Although I wished I could have kept it up. I started to do what I always do. Drift away. However he continued to write me poems.

[May 14, 2008]

I took the time to say good day. I only wish I could stay long enough to keep you near & keep away the things you fear.

[May 15, 2008]

Blue rose, Blue Moon. Blue rose be the month of June. Should you fade or should you pass, Blue rose be the one to last.

[May 17, 2008]

My dear sweet lady,  don’t ever drift.  It’s your kind words my heart doth lift.  I shall never leave you nor would I dare try.  

If you were not with me, my love would not die.

I’d wait til the dawn would shine no more, til there were no more days still i’d wait one more.

I’ll be with you now as I would even then til time started over to be with you again.

[May 17, 2008] I wrote the following, when I noticed that “Master” had other female students. He was like a little poetry butterfly. And my issues kicked into high gear. I had a temper tantrum.

I hope that your day was complete, kept all your activities discreet

You enjoy this game we play, I see it is difficult for you to keep away

Don’t misunderstand, I find your attention oh so grand.

I bid Master a good night and visit you again in mornings light.

“Master” wrote only two more poems to me.

My dearest love, my soft furry friend.

I give you this thought, so don’t let it end.

This horse with the wings and with the horse live a wizard or so legend warns.

They’re yours to gaze at whenever you dream.

Their presence are good but this you have seen I made a new friend, one that you know.

I’ll teach this one too, so it will show but your inspiration will help her learn faster, like it has done me.

Your friend & your master

My last writing to Master on this Passionate Gothic Poetry site.

Master, I do not share well and now choose to rebel

You go – preach

You go – teach

Master’s farewell poem.

Torturous times of my life have gone by. 

I think of that night, why did she die.

The sorrow I’ve felt since she’s been gone.

Oh why has my life lasted this long.

I sometimes dream I see her face just to wake in my own disgrace

I could have been there to stop that man 

I tried so hard but instead I ran

Though haunting thoughts I see once more.  I wake and find her at my door.

My love how did you return to me?

She took my hand, said You’ll see.

I walked with her on that night and there I finally made things right

When at last I saw that man,  his face was mine.

That’s who I am

You came for me, though I murdered you.

She said love is forever, now you’re dead too. 

I couldn’t believe I still had all them. Written on pieces of loose leaf paper. He did have an amazing talent for writing Gothic poetry. I was a bit envious of that talent. I wonder what ever happened to him. I didn’t use his screen names, in case he’s out there somewhere. It’s true what they say, “seduce the mind first and the body will follow.”


My Writing Process: A Blog Tour

I’m sitting at my local watering hole on a Friday night and Jack of “Frisky in the 916”  messages me to find out if I’m interested in doing this little “Blog Tour.” Sure, I’m buzzed. I’ll do just about anything with a few drinks in me.

1.  What am I working on? 

  • Currently I’m attempting to complete the A to Z Challenge that I signed up for. There are only 12 days left. I still need topics for the letters “S, V, X, Y Z.” Hopefully I can come up with something for those letters. If you have any suggestions drop me a line. This is my first year doing this meme, not sure if I’ll do it again next year. This meme is really been a challenge, in a very good way of course.
  • I also just received my VivaVoxBox from Which contains complimentary products that I will have to give my reviews on via my different social media including a written blog post.

  • I have an non-fictional erotic story that I need to finish soon. I probably will forget how the story line went. Dammit.  You can read my last non-fictional erotic story called “20 Minutes.”
  • I haven’t written anything recently for the Blog for Mental Health Project. I had been writing posts about my issues and experiences. That I recently discovered in the last year. Hoping that I could connect to others like me and find out more about it.

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre? Funny, I don’t think I fit into any specific genre. I’ve tried. I write about my personal sexual adventures in regards to my “issues.” Which I guess is not a positive for either genre. Sexual or Mental Health. I share my sexual experiences because I never knew that that’s why I was acting the way I was. Also I think it makes for a hot read – sometimes.  Hoping that perhaps someone can relate or I can prevent someone from doing what I did. I don’t know. I also post a lot of photos of myself, along with lots of shoe shots. I mostly just write about what’s going on in my head. I also mix up some audio (podcast) with some of my written posts. I’ve always enjoyed doing audio more than typing. Not everyone is into listening & not everyone is into reading.

3.  Why do I write what I do? I write the things I do, because it’s what I know to write about. Also hoping to connect with other like-minded people. Those that can relate to what I write about or just having regular readers who enjoy reading what I write about. Another reason I write what I do, maybe some one out there reading it who may feel like they are the only one.  Most people wanna feel like their not totally alone in their situation and experiences. Bottom line, it’s self motivated. I need to share some things to get it off my chest & out of my head. If I write it all down and reread it back to myself, it just might make sense.

4.  How does your writing process work? It doesn’t. I haven’t found my pattern just yet. At times there are so many ideas in my head. I write them down in scribbled notes. Looking at them later I think I can’t write about that! Or OMG how depressing. That sounds crazy. I did use audio for a while just to get the thoughts out of my head. I’m still working on this part of it. I’m not a natural writer. You can tell those hardcore writers, I just wanna get the damn thought out, share it and be done. If I sound like I’m writing like a 17-year-old, well, you can understand it. Simple & straight to the point. I have looked into other ideas of how to write better,  to find a way that works for a mind that suffers with ADHD.

There you have it. Answers to questions that you always wanted to know about your favorite little kitty. Thanks again to Jack of jackandjillcpl for asking me to participate in this writing blog tour. I’m passing this tour onto the following follow bloggers. I do have a variety of bloggers I follow. Please note that they all may write about different topics, some sites may contain adult subject matter.

Normal Deviations

LordRaven69 –

Marci – Marci, Mental Health & More


If you have read my “About Cat” page, you will have read that I am left-handed. I didn’t know I was different into I began to learn how to write. I attended private school in the early 70’s. Taught by the Franciscan Order – Nuns! Penguins! Old lady’s in habits with those witch type black shoes and giant rosary beads hanging from their belt.

I was sitting down at the table practicing my letters, when my father noticed something.

“Why is your left hand behind your back?”

I told him that’s how the Sister had told me to practice. He looked at my homework. Some of the letters I had written backwards. He started yelling. He went into the living room, yelling to his mother (my grandma) about how he was taking to me school in the morning because he was going to talk to the principal. He came back into the kitchen. “Stop writing & put your arm down. Now pick up the pencil.” I picked it up with my left hand. He smiled. “Feel better?” I smiled.

That was my first memory of being “different” or left-handed. My dad did go to my school and had a talk with the Sisters there. I never had to put my left arm behind my back again.

I remember writing was and still can at times difficult for me. Especially when writing in spiral or composition notebooks. And don’t even get me started on those erasable pens. Those were never meant for lefties to use. I ended up wearing most of the ink on the side of my hand.

I do not write like most lefties. I hold my pen the “correct” way as right handers do. My handwriting can slight in all three directions. I can’t hold my pen and turn my wrist inwards. That hurts. I hated those left handed scissors. UGH. I would turn them upside down and try to cut with them that way. I remember there were even notebooks with the spiral on the opposite side, just for lefties.

I only use my left hand to write, drive and eat with. However there are times I can use my right hand to eat with. And I will say something to my family like “Something doesn’t feel right.” And my kids would be the first to notice that I was using the “wrong” hand. I can if needed use my right hand to eat with, write with and drive with. When I was younger and was forced to participate in sports I could use either hand. I actually performed better with my left hand, it was just never strong enough. I never trained with my left hand. I used to bowl (stop laughing) and I was taught to use my left hand. My score increased by 10-20 points. When going out to dinner I need to pay attention to where I sit. Sometimes I forget and I don’t enjoy my dining experience.

My maternal grandmother was left-handed. I have a few close cousins who are lefties. And out of my three children I have only one lefty. That’s the Manchild. Who is very creative and very intellectual. I am not as creative as I was when I was younger. Maybe I never was, just thought I was. I did do a lot of art projects, however at times it was difficult.

I never have given it much thought to being left handed in everyday life. I probably struggle a bit more, but I don’t attribute it to being left-handed which that might be the cause of my difficulty.

I know it was difficult to learn to dance. Doing the steps, for some reason I always got turned around. I tend to carry things in my left hand, such as my phone, car keys. Then I find it difficult because when I get into the car I have to put everything down before I can closed the car door behind me. I use my right shoulder to carry my purse, I used to wear my wristwatch on my left wrist. Then my father explained that it should go on my right wrist because I would continuously bump it on things. I would have a pen in my left hand, watch on my left wrist. That was weird.

Playing guitar when my dad attempted to teach me, I played right handed. It felt so uncomfortable playing left. I don’t think I am a true lefty. Because they do everything left-handed. I don’t. Sadly, my right hand, arm has taken a beating because I use it so much. Not to long ago I tried using my left hand for other things, just felt uncomfortable. I don’t take a lot of stock in those articles that a lot of statistics about lefty’s. That they are more satifified sexually, they are more likely to die younger, recover from a stroke faster & better and so on. I just don’t give it much thought. I’m just a left-handed woman in a right-handed world.

Are you left-handed? Not sure? Ask yourself these questions. Find out more at

  1. Imagine the center of your back is itching. Which hand do you scratch it with?

  2. Interlock your fingers. Which thumb is uppermost?

  3. Imagine you are applauding. Start clapping your hands. Which hand is uppermost?

International Left-Handed Day

More Changes

I haven’t been paying attention to my little “contract” with the company that I paid for my domain name & other stuff. Well, I see that they renewed everything for another year. What’s that mean? It means that I will be using this site for everything now. I will be combining “Hell on High Heels” here. I will probably lose some readers, opportunities, etc. However, at this moment the only bloggers that comment my posts are the fellow sex bloggers that I follow & participate in the weekly memes.

Not sure if I will still be able to be listed on some of the “bloggers lists” but again I say, “whatever.”

#booze #tattoos #shoes #tshirt #wishlist #clothingI’m done. Done trying to play that game of “fitting” into a mold that I was never able to fit into from the beginning. I tried, I wanted to, be a part of a bigger group. Mommies? Nope kids are grown & gone. Grammies? Nope, I don’t spend great amount of time with “dash” to share, nor crafty DIY chick either. Not all into the fashion scene that I am comfortable sharing what I am wearing. OH ya wanna know? I’m currently wearing a gray jumper (sweater) with a red long sleeve shirt underneath with a red & white striped scarf & jeans that are tucked in to my black combat boots. Ha! My hair is in a twisty pony tail.

So, there it is. My admission of accepting the fact that I don’t fit in to what I thought I could. Maybe I just didn’t put myself out there, then again this all boils down to just being yourself. Blogging for your own purpose. That’s what I’m gonna do. I keep trying to tell myself that. Let’s see how well I can do this now. *Keep my fingers crossed*