This is one of those "I don't even know where to begin" kind of posts, so bear with me. Those of you still paying me attention.
April was when last I wrote anything about anything femme. I have always had a lot to say, and I often have this undeniable desire to spill out my soul in the best way I know how, and I was doing such a great job, I like to think. But something happened back there. Summer time, perhaps. End of school. A whole different kind of busy. A lack of wind in the bosom of my sails. Yeah, more like that. But I also think it was something a bit more typical - throwing my hands into the air and backing away, because venting and chatting and bitching and casting about the empty reaches of the internet gets old, real old, real fast. Because when all you really want in the world is someone you love (who has a face, no offense, O People of the Internet) to see your true form and love you back, nothing else takes the shape of that. Dressing up doesn't work. Browsing the message boards doesn't work. Online window shopping is torture, given my infinitesimal budget. In fact, trying to reach out online just doesn't work. Because you can't build relationships with people you have no intention of spending time with. I'm sorry, my few-and-far-between followers, but it's true. I have a mate who can't deal, and I don't believe in putting my needs above others, especially when I am central to that other person's needs. And, seriously, I happened to utter some simple yet powerful vows with more than a little sincerity on the day we tethered our mortal souls together. This makes me responsible.
However, it doesn't leave me without options. I simply don't know how to identify the good ones.
I'm back again to see if I can find some actual satisfaction. And I'm willing to use my nicest words.
If there's anything that I've ever been good at, it's that I'm a creative little minx. I do enjoy letting others pleasure me with story and song, but as whorish as that sounds it only means that I have an eye and an ear for art. Much of the beauty which art encompasses revolves around the feminine. I crave it relentlessly. And if no one is ever going to allow me to grow as the beautiful, energetic feminine soul that lies dormant within, than I shall have to forgo the dependence I so craved to become, in a sense, my own woman. A work of art in and of myself.
I want to write. I want to draw. I want to cram the amp plug into Holli Cherise Pewtersmyth and let the ensuing wave of sound flow. I want something more than reflections. I want to touch and be touched emotionally. And I want other people to want this from me as well.
So.......
......
How will I do it? How can I serve? How can I bind myself to the whims of an an appreciative audience? These questions and answers (and more questions, likely) to follow...
~HCP
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