Vintage Spanking

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

FEM/Birthday Party

Image found at http://www.voice-maniacs.com/wp-content/uploads/domina.jpg

I was invited by my Mentor almost two months ago and took off work to make it happen. I wanted to go because out of all the parties She's attended, this is one that She really wanted me to attend with Her. I was honored, and still am.
The evening started chaotic enough, as She was hosting the party and preparations had to be made. I wasn't sure what to expect and definitely didn't know it was a party for FemDommes, but was pleasantly surprised when I found out. We arrived to the house, and right off the bat, there were some boys there already preparing. She just gave a few more directions and we were off to get dressed and await the other guests. I wore a black, pvc corset, super short boy's shorts, thigh high stockings and black boots.
The strangest thing happened to me from the very beginning. I am not a people person, don't like conversating a whole lot and find it hard to relate to anyone outside of specific purposes. For the first time, the more people that showed up, the more at home I felt. Almost everyone I met and spoke with was like I was talking to a long-lost friend. They were so easy-going and down to earth that I had no problem engaging anyone, keeping up an interesting conversation or just hanging out enjoying the scenery.
The boys were the most well-trained bunch I've ever encountered. they were extremely polite and respectful, none were obnoxious or testy. they were on it, protocol was moderate to high and they were hittin' those marks as tight as a Marine's drill and ceremony. The Dommes were highly approachable and the conversations and energies were fluid, flowing freely throughout the entire house. Not really what I expected... better.
I have never been in an environment where I felt so free to be myself and it made me realize how much of myself I alter in order to be generally acceptable in society. Not so much my behavior but the way I interact with others. My ideas and thoughts, for once, were similar to the women around me. The boys were equally as eager to serve as they were to play. The service that I did expect from the boys were carried out without the looks, griping or complaining of their 'nilla counterparts. To top it all, I didn't feel the pressure to feel bad that I was demanding to someone, that I was a bitch, or a Queen, or whatever, as is sometimes the adjectives from society... . Now I don't mind being called any of those names, but being accepted for who I am by a group (not just one or two people) means a lot to me, more than what I thought it would.
I think I've really found a home with this group and hope to make many more socials and parties with them. I enjoyed myself beyond enjoyment and pleasure. The party was just awesome and the birthday boy was rather lucky... as many as four Mistresses playing him at one time. he had a smile from ear to ear when We were through... .

Bringing in the New Decade Right

Behemoth



Last night was a blast at Emo's! I had a much needed break from the stress of everyday life. Being able to dress up in Goth Domme mode and hang out with Mr V and His brother to watch some of the greatest performers I've witnessed in a while.
As soon as we got there, I asked Mr V for a Jack and Coke. Little did I know the bartender was going to serve it up like I was going home with him! I watched him fill up the 8 oz. cup almost to the top, then he topped it off with a little sprinkle of Coke, literally. After that drink, I was buzzed. Tipsy passed after the third sip. I then had a beer (Heineken, what else?), then another Jack and Coke, then another beer (my near brother-in-law is so good to me). By the end of the night, between the drinks and other people smoking trees, I fully understood "holding onto the grass to make sure you don't fall off the lawn." Whew! I couldn't over-do it since I wanted to be able to walk back to the car on my own two feet, so I stopped there (and wisely).
Waiting in line, Tomasz Wróblewski of Behemoth passed us to get to his tour bus. He is so damn fine, it's ridiculous. Photos don't do him justice at all. Tall, dark, hot, and damn it if I didn't have Mr V with me! I would've acted like a pure groupie and followed him into that tour bus. I'm trying to inspect for myself the difference between American and Polish sausages. Have him talk to me in Polish while I flog and whip his ass until he's a quivering pile at my feet. Dammit!
Pack of Wolves started first, and they were bad ass!! I saw them about a year ago and they have greatly improved in their technique and stage presence. They set it off just right. The drummer worked his ass off and was almost a one man show.
Lightning Swords of Death followed and they were okay.
Then Septicflesh came on next, and I was laughing my ass off. Everyone in the crowd was skeptical, they were commenting on how a band from Greece could know anything about metal - especially death metal. They started playing and ripped everyone a new one and I saw a crowd heading to the line to buy their cd. Now that's eating your own words at its finest.
Finally, Behemoth was up and they tore it up as I expected. The crowd was so pumped, they didn't want them to leave the stage. They kept chanting "Behemoth" every time they went off stage and they kept coming back out to give the crowd more. They played like "Fuck the noise ordinance" because they were supposed to be off the stage at Austin's conservative, "we're so virginal," noise ordinance, hush or we'll give you a ticket time. As any good man will do, they kept at it until everyone was satisfied.  Next time they're on tour, I'm getting a tattoo with their emblem that I'll be flashing when they come out. (Tosses head back and chuckles deviantly to self.)

Deprivation

Image found at http://www.emtr.com.br/english/DEPRESSION.jpg

In my current state, I have barely begun sleeping without fitfull dreams, nightmares, constant fighting.


If I eat, it is one meal and hardly finished unless I push hard. Nothing tastes good, nothing smells right, everything turns my stomach and I turn from it. I am left feeling weaker than usual but somehow still managing, a sensation of constant swimming in my head, and deep anger that despite my best efforts to change this I can't get it to change.


This time of stress has seemed to greatly increase my sex drive (as if I really needed that). I crave it constantly, can't get it off my mind, crave Him and text Him to make sure He comes home faster so I can get more. Orgasms are immensely better, sensations so much stronger, but my head won't stop swimming.


I'm in an awkward state of depression. Not outwardly depressed enough so that those who barely know me would think I am, yet depressed enough so that those who do know me are afraid for me. I don't care for their pity, I don't want it. All I want is my child and for him to be able to stay by my side until the time I release him to go out into the world. That's the way we planned it, that's the way it should be. Enraged, I will have it no other way.

Needful Things

For a long time now, I've been wondering what "my thing" could be. The one or two things that I could specialize in and really get off to, my own craft of the trade. I finally found what that was through my gracious mentor and her husband when they introduced me to needle play. I had actually forgotten that we were supposed to be doing it when I went to her house Wednesday night.

Of course, the sub was a sexy boi I've had the privilege of spanking, flogging, caning and now poking. Beautiful D tits, soft skin, curvy, with wide hips, and loves to be naked. What more can anyone ask for??? The needle and her skin played my favorite game - futile attempts of resistance followed by a luscious dive through her like a hot knife through butter. The sensations ilicited short, quick breaths as I watched her chest rise and fall rapidly; a hearbeat so loud I could hear it pounding in my ears. She gripped the edges of the table with her nails dug into the padding, toes curled. By the tenth needle, a thin layer of sweat glossed her delicious body.

One of the needles went through the inner folds of her vagina just below her clitoris. Deciding we didn't like that one, we pulled it out and wiped with antiseptic which gave me a new realization. Her response to that burning pain excited my sadistic side immensely. She began rocking back and forth on the table so much I pulled her legs into me and held her so she wouldn't injure herself by falling off the table. I otherwise offered no sympathy as the tears poured from her eyes. I glared at her intently until her eyes refocused on mine and I waited for the word from her lips to stop it all. She began to calm and repositioned herself to lay still, but she never said it. She pouted, but said nothing. I kissed her lips to reward her for her strength, feeling the warmth of her face, moisture on my lips, inhaling the intoxicating mixture of sweat and tears from her skin. I then prepared to move on.

I enjoy spanking and flogging, I enjoy binding, I enjoy consensual nonconsent, however... . What really gets my blood flowing is single tails, a person kneeling at my feet, and now piercing. I'm really excited to have found what my craft entails and will now be working diligently to perfect it to the best of my abilities. I will next begin to work on permanent piercings while continuing to find out if there is anything else I enjoy, but this is a great start!

Anima Sola

Render: Pulled back by Rolfw

"He came back again last night and tore me like paper. He opened me like a flower of pain, and it felt good. He sank into me and set me on fire, like he always does. Made me burn from the inside out." - Gothika.

There is a large part of me that would love to be locked in a prison, visited by a larger than life demon that hurts me and fucks the life out of me (almost to the point of oblivion) as my reward for his pain. To burn for his pleasure, unsure if I can or if I'll die first, claws on the door without knowing if I'm trying to scratch it open or express the intensity of my passion. Hanging by my hair from his massive hand as he carves who I belong to on my chest, choking me before giving me the pleasure I now burn for, slammed against the wall to feel the gravity of his weight... I'd take all of him, then kneel at his feet.

Rope Shoot

Thanks to Jake (rigger) and HCoyote (photographer) for the wonderful chance to shoot.

It was quick and fun. Perhaps I'll begin to feel a little more relaxed about having my picture taken. I have a lot of personal baggage and will scrutinize until I am invisible to myself, so taking pictures is a tough barrier for me to overcome.

I DO NOT see myself as others see me and I know this (body image disturbance the docs call it). Mr. V has been working to help me get over this for years and His love and support have helped. I have struggled for years to overcome the damage sustained when black features weren't popular and were frowned upon. My lips, nose, skin... as a child, being asked if I had a tail as some child's mother told her blacks had tails like the devil. Seems silly now, but damaging when the same comments are repeated from the earliest age of comprehension through high school.

Surprising me is that my life in kink has also helped to break through a few cement walls. Hopefully I can get through some more with the love and support of the awesome people I've met within the community. I have never been so embraced and felt so accepted in my life, and I appreciate every last one of them.

First Encounter

Threesome by Miguel Tio

My first encounter with kink came rather unexpectedly and took weeks to process exactly what happened for everyone involved. The situation just evolved when I went over to my close friend's apartment.

His cousin was staying over and we all ended up hanging out the whole day, talking and laughing. The day rolled into night and Snake asked me if I was going to stay over. This was our usual conversation after hanging out, and the translation for this is, "Do you wanna fuck?" I'd known him for 4+ years at this point, so hell yeah I'm staying over.

We went back to his place, ate and drank more. We set up a bed on the floor for his cousin. He was viewed as being a bit of a third wheel, but he was Snake's cousin and I felt that I had very little say in the matter. Snake and I settled into a cuddle on the couch. We talked for a little while longer, started kissing and his cousin turned out the lights the moment Snake's hand went into my shorts.

Snake was magical with his hands, tongue and everything else. He was a deliciously sensual and skilled lover. He had the ability to make me cum non-stop for a minimum of 30 minutes straight. Screaming orgasms that caused my legs to tremble uncontrollably, a puddle beneath me, and being scratched by my own nails dug into my skin. He was so good, my pussy was wet just from the sight of him. He was smokin' hot, sexy and gorgeous also. 6 pack, broad shoulders, very athletic, extremely high endurance.

Anyway, I ended up on that bed made for his cousin after riding Snake on the couch, then doggie on the edge of couch, being eaten on the edge of it and various other positions. Finally on the bed, Snake was holding my legs on his shoulders just about to make me cum when his cousin tapped on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. Snake pulled out and moved up to my chest, placing his penis between my breasts and began stroking. Suddenly, I felt a warm mouth on my clit and realized that his cousin was eating my pussy, and rather well. I was attempting to hold out on cumming clitorally, but my body gave in before my mind and I came everywhere. He made a remark about me shooting on his face to Snake, but Snake was all about his business and serious about the whole situation.

The casual titty fuck position Snake initially took changed while my mind was trying to process what he was doing, then I realized that I was pinned down. I struggled against Snake trying to move him, I was confused as this was not something he had normally done and a tiny voice in the back of my head made me suspicious of a man I trusted with my life. His cousin began penetrating me and I began to fight more. He was so huge, he was a man that I would've normally turned down in any other situation because I just couldn't accomodate him. Every half inch he entered increased the fear that I would tear. He entered slowly, I could tell he was trying to be gentle but I was still cursing and fighting. I was mad at Snake for not warning me, or stopping this and for holding me down.

After finally entering me most of the way, he began a smooth, extremely rhythmic motion. I still felt like he was inside my uterus, but the pleasure component began to take over. Once my yelling began to settle into intense moaning, Snake lifted off of me and let his cousin take over. He threw me into so many positions, fucking me as well as he ate me. I came in missionary, I came facing him standing, I came side by side, I lost track of how long and how many positions I came in but I began to finally lose my steam. I got tired, I was panting and unsure if I could take anymore. He asked me if I was ready for him to cum, the first time I heard him speak directly to me all day. His voice was sexy and deep, that quality of bass that makes a woman's nipples hard. I told him yes and he nodded to Snake, who returned to his former position.

Again the brief confusion over what is going on as Snake restrained me but his grip was much firmer than he had ever held me before. He remained completely emotionally stoic. He didn't sway one inch to my pleas of what he was doing and why, but it seems that he knew what was to happen already. His cousin's slow and gentle movements were for my benefit so I could cum. For him to cum, he had to pound me using the entire length of his dick, not half as he had been doing.

He began fucking me harder than I've been fucked by men half his size. He was "roughly" 13+ inches long and 3 1/2 inches wide. Snake's response to my screaming was to gag me with my own panties. I began fighting with everything I could but was no match for Snake's strength. The pain was overwhelming but exquisite. Tears began flowing which finally illicited a response from Snake, he leaned forward to kiss the tears, shush me, and was talking dirty to me (which he knew turned me on tremendously) while I was still pinned down. My legs tiring of unsuccessfully trying to fight off his cousin, he still continued his onslaught without mercy. The inner part of my thighs sore, I knew they'd be bruised the next day.

Screaming through a gag, crying and finally my legs began trembling again from this extreme orgasm that began creeping in slowly. The contractions in my pussy seemed to motivate him to be rougher as he put his hands under my ass, angling me so he could go deeper. My hips stopped fighting and I began riding his cock, calling his name and begging him to keep fucking me. This is another rarity, as I don't beg or call anyone's name but I was not in control on this one. Gag in mouth, it was hard to understand me anyway so my dignity remains intact for the most part. I soon exploded in a way I'd never done before or since this night, cumming at the same time as his cousin.

He pulled out and the three of us laid quietly with me in the middle for a while. I began the long process of trying to understand how I could've came this way through so much pain. The craving to repeat this scene was extremely deep, my head spun and my stomach cramped with needing to have it. This started the rough play, hair pulling, spankings, total control, rape scenes, biting and bondage for me. Snake was taken back by his role as well, that he enjoyed having so much control over me, his first experience in Top space. His cousin said he was just happy he finally got to put the entire cock in for a change.

Kinky Drawers

I was so nervous for my first time being a live model for these artists. I have never done anything like that before. For some strange reason, I suddenly feared my own body and what others would think of it. Knowing that artists have such a keen eye, I thought they would frown at any imperfections they noticed. Yet they were great. Very kind, inviting, and did the best they could to put me at ease and make me feel welcomed. I always say that I am not a model by any sense of the word; I just thought it'd be fun to give it a try.

Mr. V. was there to provide comfort and was my safety blanket. One of the artists had noticed right away that the moment I felt unsafe I went to go sit on his lap. I initially hadn't noticed that I had done this, but with his nod of affirmation, I had to realize that this is a pattern that I have. I do feel safer in his arms and know that he would never let anything hurt me.

The first pose was rather benign and casual. Incredibly, I soon realized that even the most relaxing pose can get pretty tough to hold when you have to remain completely still for 30 minutes. Pressure points build up and there is a constant need to balance meditative thought to stay in position while ignoring the position. My yoga practice helped and this experience has helped to inspire me to continue to practice.

The artists are like me in that they were so critical of their own work. More critical than I in that I saw the beauty of their talents and abilities. To me, it is magical to be able to take life and recreate it using a blank canvas and pencils. There exists a form of spirituality within that plane that I think many take for granted, no matter what the level of skill may be.

The second pose was a lot more demanding, a birthing pose. Lying face down on the floor with my knees spread apart, stomach between thighs, toes touching, arms outstretched, head tucked and remaining for about 30 minutes. I began to have my own spiritual experience. Floating between one consciousness and another, concentrating on the movement of air into my nose, filling my lungs and circulating throughout my body. I did my best to transfer tension, pressure and pain to alternating sides until I finally couldn't take the sensation in my lower legs any longer. The tingling sensation of my knees remaining bent for so long had passed and a stage began where there was an unusual sense of pain. It did not feel specific to my legs, yet existed as a roaring ache flowing upward until my tolerance reached its peak and I stretched upward to revive my body.

My Daddy was right there to help me get to standing and upon realizing I couldn't move my feet to walk, he picked me up in one smooth motion and set me on his lap. My feet turned pink and the pins and needles sensation in them was overwhelming. Of course, the Lady of the house seized the opportunity to rub my feet in that condition and I expected no less. I was thrilled to have Her do it (what a damn masochist).

I enjoyed the entire experience and thank everyone who let me be a part of it. Daddy and I are talking about returning to the next one and bringing another youngster with us next time. He is a talented young man, another artist, and he is kinky as well. This might be an awesome idea, as I do need a boy to play with and it's someone my Troll already likes.

Dragon's Tail

Dragon Prince by Boris Vallejo
http://vallejo.ural.net/1984/

Usually, I play in the dark slowly stepping toward the edge without any idea of where it may be. Feeling around blindfolded until I think I feel it then bounce around somewhere near it to see how far I can push it. Not so with my first experience with a dragon's tail.

He said he would give a couple of warm up taps so I can get a feel for what it's like. The first one was a delay, an almost "what was that?" The second swing was the one that brought the hell. By the third swing, my nails were dug in, my back was arched, a moan escaped and I was immediately at the edge and knew it. It was like someone took the blinders off and I could see very clearly where my edge was and there was no bouncing around this one.

It was raw, gritty, dirty and inescapable. A tear was brought to my eye as I stretched my ass as far as I could get it for another. The pain shot through me like a nuclear fire, yet settled in the waters of my pussy and the moans that sang out. Unforgiving, it made my nipples harder with each strike. Unconsoling, my body began winding up into a pre-orgasmic state. In front of an audience, no one else existed except the dragon's tail and I, tottering and almost falling over my edge together.

I loved it and feared it simultaneously. I wanted more with a drive I've rarely felt before, yet wasn't sure of how much more I could take. The yeses and nos that argued back and forth in my mind, the stinging pain that fought against my orgasm, the tears that cooled the heat - no wonder I loved it and can't wait to do it again. Only next time, a more private setting and a little foreplay for a change.

Dick

We’ve been together for so many years and sometimes, it’s hard for you to understand why I don’t always want to fuck. It has nothing to do with a lack of attraction, you are the most beautiful and perfect man occupying my world. Being the King of my home, your reign is exquisite in my life and I cherish being your Queen, your princess, your concubine, your muse and your consultant.

The problem, my love, is that you keep presenting me with the same old dick day after day. I could never admit to you that I need some different dick as you’d take it the wrong way. I don’t need another man in my life to complicate what we currently have but I do need for you to be that different dick. Don’t keep bringing me the same meal served on the same plate with every meal daily for 6 years. Even the drinks are the same. I want you to switch it up and change your presentation to inspire me. Make the effort to be all those different dicks that I fantasize about.

Be my thug dick whose only mission is to beat it up; make it rough, fast and dirty. My intellectual dick that has studied a multitude of spiritual theories, incantations, spells and karmic positions to bend my mind and body in ways I never thought possible. My rocker dick that plays like I’m a groupie struggling to get backstage where my efforts will be greatly rewarded. My illegal alien dick that doesn’t speak one fuckin' word of English, but can hit it in several different languages (French, Slavik, Greek...). My convict dick that just got out of prison after a 20 year stretch. My priest dick who lets me know all the ways that I sin and how to get on my knees to repent. My cop dick, specialist in take downs, holds, and restraints for when I resist arrest. My strict school teacher dick who sits me on his lap when I’m good, spanks me with a wooden ruler when I’m bad. My home invasion dick that climbs through my window with a ski mask, brandishing a knife and insisting I pose and play with my pussy for him before taking me.

You know what kind of woman I am so it’s confusing to you that I’m not automatically down, but it’s because I’m waiting for you to tape up properly and put on your boxing gloves. Get serious about it. I shouldn’t be the one to have to tell you what you know already - you need to jack off first even before attempting to go some rounds with me. You need to be able to go until I’m begging for you to stop, until I think I just can’t take anymore, until I’m pulling out my own hair exhausted with tears of joy. Without dropping your first load, there’s no way that you’re going to be able to hold out with the squeezing, my body writhing and the vibrating moans when I’m underneath you.

Do I want to have to tell you all these things all the time? No. Do I expect you to do these things automatically? YES, I do. I expect for it to be as automatic as when I put on those 6 inch sandals with the black straps. As automatic as the time I wore that sexy, paper thin, all black outfit that drove you nuts to see the contrast with the bright, hot pink lace panties after you pulled up that skirt. As automatic as when I flip my hair arching my back, squat with my ass poked out and legs spread apart up on that platform to talk to you. As automatic as us going to a strip club and I pull a side bar with the manager of the club to surprise you with my own performance on that pole, just for you. Yeah, I expect it to be automatic since your dick is always automatically hard from my automatic actions.

So, now you will see that I love and cherish you. We are still in the honeymoon stage in my heart every time I see your face but don’t let that fuck your mind up. I still demand all from you, the best of you, everything you’ve got to give and then a little more because I deserve it, I crave it, I lust for it. I will have it no other way than presented at the absolute top of your game or else you won’t get no pussy. None at all while your dick is rock hard wondering how you can get me to bend over like that again and spread it open so you can catch another glimpse.

Restoration Accomplished

Photo taken at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, NYC
Photo of Lord Ganesh taken at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art (my favorite and most beloved of all the Hindu deities)

Photo taken at Coney Island beach (from what I heard they want to tear it all down and build casinos)

My recent trip to New York was an awesome experience. Truthfully, I'm ready to go back and was sad to leave. The trip offered a mixture of redemption and revival, while also offering a flashy display of the city's improvements.

The subways have greatly improved. When I left, gangs were robbing people on the trains, panhandlers were soliciting at every stop on every car, there was even a time when a girl was riding on the subway car dead for hours before anyone noticed. Addicts nodding off as I attempted to explain away the reason for their condition to my sons, mad as hell that I was put in that situation for them.

Now the subways are relatively clean, even if the stations need a little more work. The police no longer seem to shy away from "certain areas," and everyone is just chilled. No acting an ass, yelling, jumping and screaming. I was greatly impressed.

Times Square has reformed since I left. At the time that I left, Giuliani was just starting to clean up this site. Peep shows dominated with that one hot Dominican chick that was always trying to get me to come by and pick her up after work. XXX movie theatres that would make the hairs stand on the back of my neck as the soles of my shoes stuck to the floor like velcro. Fake shops that pretended to sell anything other than what they were really selling, the tourists that would be pick-pocketed as soon as they looked up at the buildings into the sky, the working girls that I frequently would conversate with on my late night walks. Gone, gone, gone and gone.

Many areas, Times Square included, are now very tourist friendly. While I commend the city on its clean up effort. I cursed when I saw that the Village is no longer the Village! I thought for sure this would be one place that I could remember and feel like I've returned to old times. Nope! The Village has been commercialized as well and lost its infamous individuality that drew me to it growing up. The teen who left Brooklyn to live on the streets with pink spiked hair, jet black funeral ready clothing, spiked collars and nails filed to sharp points. Saying that I was a NYC Village kid sporting my happy faced back pack would hold no meaning now for anyone who didn't experience that era.

Going back home has helped me to realize the many reasons I sought the sanctity of the end of the beach reaching into the ocean, quieter and alternative cultures, what makes me "eccentric" to my friends who had a hard time understanding my needs. There are so many people, people every turn, every corner, they take up so much space that the distance between one person and another is less than a breath. So many people together changes their nature without them realizing. The constant auras, constant secrets whispered to me about them, constant assault and onslaught of people.

There are too many options, too many people to see and to talk to, too many to experience that many lose sight of the ones they have close to them. I know that friendships are strong, but there is too much distraction to realize what character of woman stands before you. So much distraction that the disrespectful head turns to stare with the wife and kids standing next to him or her. Thousands of greetings per day that it takes a lot more to stand out, lots of disrespectful comments that make a woman shut down and ignore everyone to mentally isolate herself away from the rest of the world.

On the other side of the coin, my trip seemed to be inspired by the Ancestors to bring me closer to them. I floated in and out of museums, cathedrals, churches, mosques, temples.... The only place I didn't go is a particular temple in Queens but I'm sure we are all okay with that. I received messages, love, strength, enlightenment, encouragement in five times the volume I was able to receive with meditation alone at home. I really believe it was T/their way of pulling me away to be alone and tucked into T/their arms to help me through a time in my life of struggling to regain my footing.

For many years after my divorce, I lost so much that I constantly prayed for God to restore me. A restoration of who, what, where and how I was before I ever met my ex-husband who brought me immense pain and suffering. That same prayer was my constant prayer. I closed my eyes tightly in earnest that it should be granted but I forgot to open my third eye to realize that I had been not only restored, but exceedingly blessed. The last step was for me to restore myself to my own ways before him. This last portion was for me to accomplish.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to go and am anxiously awaiting my next return date. I have to return and eventually, will move back near the city I've always loved but now I cherish as well. I'm grateful for the new friends I made on this trip and grateful for their generosity and patience in caring for this spoiled little Daddy's girl. Right now, I'm just grateful for the new perspective I have on my life and renewed visions for my future. Next trip, Buddhist and Hindu temples, Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and getting lost within some of my favorite cultures. Perhaps I'll eventually return to the temple in Queens just to see how things have been, but I'll wait for my permission before returning.

OMG the food!!! What was i thinking by leaving!

Beginning to get tired of people and crowds in general. While enjoying my vacation, ill really enjoy home and walking w/o unsolicited comments and attention.

Notes

The Time Hotel. So much attention 2 detail its almost creepy. Like they are stalking me. Enter room, looks one way. Step out 4 15 min and come back my sheets are pulled back ready 4 me and my coat has been hung up.

Great day! Disappointed that he didnt call though.

Notes

Although difficult to blog from a cell phone, i just have to say that this trip has so far been both incredible and eye opening for me. Coney Island was refreshing. Just being able to drift through Brighton Beach has worked miracles for my spirit. I now realize how spoiled i have become since leaving. I now have a deeper appreciation for my Daddy. He has made me rotten. I forgot what it is to walk! I miss my car already. So much fun and my grief dissolved. It is surreal to be here. Im already planning my next trip back. Im praying tomorrow is just as good as today has been if not better.

YES! Im in New York!

Painful Insomnia

Image:
http://www.veteranstoday.com/topic13.html

Tonight, I laid my head down to sleep and brought myself back to a time I hadn't forgotten. I just hadn't thought of it in a long while. I closed my eyes to darkness and found that there was a bright, searing light that caught my attention. As I opened my eyes all I could see was sand, I could feel the intense heat, the sun that saturated me to the core of my being.

They said we were in Kuwait, but I had access and knew better. No matter where we were exactly, I'd always thought that the sand would be clean and pretty. I never knew before then that the sand actually contains quite a bit of debris. Remains of lizards, sometimes dogs and other things I couldn't and didn't want to identify. The sand stretched so far that at a certain point it looked more like an ocean, the dunes like waves. It seemed as if there was no way that home could ever exist within the same time as this, as there was nothing but sand and us.

I remember using the bathroom and looking up into the open sky. The barracks we were staying in had been bombed a few months before we arrived and the roof had been blown away. Large bullet holes that pierced the concrete walls, chunks of wall missing, all remnants of a previous battle gone to hell. One in which we didn't come out so victorious from what I heard.

The barricades seemed at first to be protection from the enemy outside. The constantine wire that snagged and tore my hands through my gloves, the blood that dropped onto the sand so that a part of me was embedded within the country. I helped to put up almost a quarter mile of it myself that day. Eventually, the barricades seemed as if they grew taller, thicker, more jagged. They no longer kept them out, they locked me in and I couldn't escape them.

115 degrees in the shade some days made the idea of a "cold drink" an almost figurative term. Yet I remain in full battle rattle - kevlar, pistol belt, mask, DCU's, boots, M16 that only left my side long enough to pick up my favorite 50 and 60 caliber weapons. I lay in the sun, dug in, so still that real life looked like a picture. All the sounds of the alarms and sirens fall away as each breath is counted and timed. The butt of my weapon feeling like concrete in my left shoulder so I can get this just right. I blink, see my target and witness time stand still as my breath ceases, the squeeze so gentle I shouldn't have noticed except for the jolt in my shoulder. Target down.

Freeze when the flares light the sky, not a sound, don't move a muscle... it's an adult game of hide and go seek. You have to hear the music to survive, there's a rhythm to battle that only the trained ear can understand. A symphony of machines, grenades, bombs, rifles and any other instruments that are being played. Tracer rounds add sight to sound, the sound vibrates and shakes through the body straight to the soul. Yet I can't hear a thing but the symphony playing.

Calmer nights, the sunsets are the most beautiful I'd ever seen on this world. Calmer nights, loneliness sets in and reminds me of everyone I left at home, the way my bed felt, who all occupied it with me, the laughter of my kids, their faces, a daughter who didn't know who I was. I deployed when she was 6 months old, and by that time, she was over a year and I know she couldn't remember.

He stood there at the gate with some package, speaking Arabic. I stood watch at the main gate with my trusty friend. Using my barely passable Arabic, I told him to "Halt!" He took another step toward me almost into the gate, probably to test me. In one smooth, swift motion I locked, loaded and aimed. His eyes met mine through my sights and there began our first moments of clarity.

All the political bullshit, legal jargon, flexing and show of force crap between our governments, the true meaning of the game became clear to both of us in that very instant. I didn't care who he was, nor did he care who I was. There was no government figure that I saw, no right or wrong reason to fight. I, simply, HAD TO make it back home alive. I had a daughter who didn't know who I was.