Musing.

The Whimsical World of T.L. Gray -The Story – My Story – My Imagination

The Story, My Story, My Imagination

The Story – My Story – My Imagination

As far as memory serves, I have loved stories.  I love to hear them, to read them, and most of all to create them in my mind and imagination.  I don’t know where I first heard them, but I remember listening to narrations from an old 45” record player, and the distinct voice of an old British woman telling stories. I was mesmerized.  It’s the same way with music and songs, and how they have the magic to often teleport my imagination to another place, another time, and another life.

Telling stories have helped me over the years with many various things, most of all with entertaining my brothers.  Being the daughter of an international drug dealer left us children often in a strange place, having to abruptly leave in the middle of the night, move away from every one we have known, and leave behind all the things we once had, including toys.  For me, what broke my heart had to be leaving behind my books.  My parents didn’t care that I didn’t have them, or how much I loved them, or how much they helped me escape. My welfare and wants were never their priority.  I learned to treasure the stories of my mind, because those stories could never be left behind.

I believe creating stories and learning to narrate started for me at a very young age because of my father’s blindness. As the story goes, having been a part of a drug deal gone wrong, my mother and father were shot when my mother was six months pregnant with me.  Spray from the shotgun hit my mother all over her neck and chest, barely missing me inside the wound, and my father took direct hits in the face, destroying one eye completely and severely damaging the other.  So, before I was even born my father had lost his vision. I don’t know what it was like for him the first few years, I was just baby and have very few flashback memories.

I don’t have any pictures of me during that time, except one, a studio picture of me and my brother together.  I was a few months old, he was a year older.  Other than that, while I’m sure there are some family photos stored away in some box somewhere, I don’t remember seeing them, and I don’t have them.  There are no photos, other than that one baby picture of me, before I was sixteen, and only one or two after that until I started taking pictures of my babies.  Even still, most of those pictures don’t have me in them, because I’m the one that took the pictures.  I’m sure my ex-mother-in-law has some pictures of me, but I’m sure she’s put them away so as to not upset the new daughter-in-law.  It’s only been the last few years I started taking pictures of myself because I felt invisible to the world. I wanted the world to know I existed, that I mattered, because no one except my children had ever made me feel that way.  My children are all grown now and it seems they also have forgotten me because they never call me, text me, message me, or come see me.   I often send them ‘good morning’ messages, to never get answered, or never returned.  Then when they change their number, or it’s no longer in service, I never get the new one.  But I still send the good morning messages to the number I had, even though I receive the error message letting me know my messages were not delivered.  Being left behind, being forgotten isn’t new to me – and I feel like many of my old books.

I often wonder about all the books that got left behind. Did the new tenants throw them out, or keep them and wonder who had possessed them before? Did they appreciate the story as I had, or never cracked open their spines? I adapted to not having books to read.  As I mentioned above, my father was blind, but he had not been born that way, so he still had a lot of memory of what things were, how they looked, and so he would listen to television.  But, as we all know, television shows and movies don’t give a play by play of what’s going on screen.  The deaf have closed caption, but the blind only have the sound effects and the dialogue.  My father had me.  Somehow it had become my job to narrate what was happening on screen.  Perhaps it was because I was good at it, could determine what needed to be and what didn’t that I got the job.  I just know it created good and bad habits in me.  Good, in the sense I am able to see the beautiful detail that I feel most miss.  Bad, in the sense visual people don’t like watching movies and television with me because I still often narrate.  You don’t know how many times I’m told in an irritating strained voice that they can see what’s happening and don’t need my input.  I’ve tried to restrain myself, but it comes naturally.  It’s how I was raised since I could speak.

While I wish I had experienced a different life, I’ve learned to appreciate the things this one has taught me, the tools that had been sharpened through all my adversity and the opportunities and skills it has created.  I believe it’s made me a better writer, that it’s forged inside me that creativity, and exercised my imagination that now fuels my own writing. I sometimes wish I couldn’t see the details, because while the details are good for the good things, they’re just as bad for the bad things.  Along with sight, comes feeling.  That’s another story, for another page, but there was a long period of time I felt nothing for no one or anything.  Because I had felt everything deeply, I couldn’t feel anything or else it would destroy me.  That has played an ugly role in my life, often hurting the people I love most. In trying to save myself from getting overwhelmed, it seems I’ve created another cycle, another generation of issues.  In my efforts to protect myself from being overwhelmed, I put up a wall to protect me, to protect them.  But, it appears I protected no one. My children don’t understand how much and how deeply I loved them, they only knew the wall, and they now have their own walls – to keep me out.

Every day I struggle with hiding once again behind that wall.  It’s never protected me.  It didn’t protect me from my family hurting me.  It didn’t protect me when my James died.  It didn’t protect me when my daughter ran away, or when my husband wouldn’t love me, or when I fought cancer, or when a family who promised to always love me doesn’t even acknowledge I exist, or when a soul mate tells me they can’t love me because they’re too damaged.  I want to hide every single day because the pain is too great.  But, I get up, I put a smile on my face, I take a picture of that smile and I send it out into the world, and then fight through the rest of the day to keep positive, to love myself, to set goals and dreams for myself, to stay healthy, to stay fit, to love everyone I can, to shove those walls back down that keep slamming up, and to fight my triggers.  I choose to see EVERYTHING, all the details, all the beautiful, scary, ugly, loving, hateful, details of life.

I’m getting older, I don’t know how much more story I have, but I choose to live it as best as I can. I choose to love myself.  I choose to encourage myself. I choose to forgive myself. I choose to push myself.  I choose to dream.  This is the story. This is my story.  This is my imagination. This is my life.

 

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray ©2017

 

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Categories: author T.L. Gray, Dream, Faith, family, Health & Fitness, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, music, Musing., relationship, respect, Spiritual, T.L. Gray | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

YOLO!

yolo

Yep.  I don’t know why it comes as a surprise for some people, but you really ONLY get ONE life.  Yeah, yeah, I know… some of you believe in reincarnation, life after death, transformation, transcendentalism, etc… all those other “possible” conclusions.  But, I’m not talking about those right now. I’m talking about the 50-100 meager years we get to walk on this planet.  Well, some of us crawl, some of us run, some of us spend it on our backs, while others spend it on our knees, but you know what I mean.  One life.

So, let me ask you… what are you doing with your life? Are you even living it, or are you just existing? Do you just go through the motions, or do take charge and move through the universe experiencing everything you can while you can?

People, we get one shot at it.  Just one. 

There have been some low times in my life where I wanted to end it, when the pain was too much to bear and I just wanted it all to stop. Abuse. Cancer. Death of a love. Divorce. Break up with a soul mate. Times I’ve felt so lonely, so lost, so unwanted, so unloved, so rejected, so unnecessary, that I just ached inside. Of course, my love for myself, for my family, for my friends, and for life itself always stayed my hand during those low points, but I’ve been there.

There have been some high times in my life where I never wanted to end, ones I wished to live over, and over, and over again.  A kiss that melted me from the inside out. A touch that still gives me butterflies today. A hug that felt like it held together all my broken pieces.  A moment of my hard work being recognized. The birth of my children, holding them for the first time. Laughing so hard I peed myself. Jumping from 2.5 miles in the air.  Racing down white rapids. Watching an ant meander through the grass and meeting God. Writing. Playing my guitar. Kicking alien ass on my Xbox.

Life. A series of moments.  Good moments. Bad moments. Loud moments. Quiet moments.  I’ve lived a lot of moments. I’m not guaranteed one more.  So, I want to make them count.  Love the people in my life.  Live my life being happy. Loving and being loved. Discovering and being adventurous.

I can’t imagine trying to numb my life with hate, drugs, alcohol, or behind a thick wall never letting anyone in, or with condescending judgment.  It’s not always going to be sunshine and roses, and there are still dark days and dark moments ahead, but there’s always good moments, and bright moments, and life and love. 

Be silly. Laugh. Take a chance. Jump. Kiss the girl (life).  Dance. Dream. Sing. Touch. Smell. Stop hiding. Stop running away. Throw your hands into the air and let it go.  It’s your choice. No one else to blame but yourself if you’re too coward to embrace life.  For fuck’s sake… SMILE!

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, blogging, Dream, Dreams, Fairy Tale, Faith, family, friends, game play, Health & Fitness, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, memes, Muses, music, Musing., Philosophy, relationship, Relationships, respect, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , | Leave a comment

Falling in Love… Day 9

falling-in-love-day-9

I got angry yesterday. I mean, I got mad as hell. But you know what… it felt good.  Not the bullshit that got me angry, because that really hurt, but the ability to process it, rise above it, and then actually get pissed about it made me feel good.  It still makes me feel good.  Why?  Because that little, stubborn, rebellious, spit-fire inside is wide awake.  She’s got her sword in her hand and she’s not taking any more bullshit. It’s about fucking time!!!!!

I’m an amazing person.  I’ve got so many gifts and talents, skills and knowledge, and I’m strong-willed.  I’m the type of person that when I fall, I may reach up for you, but it’s not for you to pick me up and carry me… it’s just something for me grab hold and pull MYSELF up.  I don’t trust people.  Not that I think they’re not capable, I’ve just discovered that not many are willing, and there sure as hell not many I can depend on. 

I’m fearless. Not that I’m unafraid, because I’m always afraid, terrified really.  But, I still choose to move in the face of fear.  I choose to leap even when I can’t breathe.  I choose to plunge in knowing that it’s going to hurt.  And to be frank, I’m so fucking tired of carrying other people. I’m so tired of hearing the excuses for their negligence and selfishness.  I’m so tired of hoping and believing for the best in others, when they’re too damned lazy to hope and believe in themselves.  I can’t carry anyone, but I’ll be more than happy to hold your hand… as I’m moving.

I’m not without trouble, stresses, problems, and obstacles.  My life is FULL of them.  However, I don’t avoid them, at least not anymore.  I see the issue in front of me and then I start working out a step-by-step plan to get out.  I focus on what I can do, and deal with what I can’t as each of the issues surface. YES, sometimes I lose things I want, opportunities, and possibilities… but I keep moving, I keep fighting, I keep hoping, and I fill my mind and heart with the positive thoughts and ideas that’s going to move me out, get me up, and get me headed in the right direction.  I’m cutting out the negative, separating myself from the doubters and the whiners and complainers.  You all know the type of people I’m talking about… that’s against everything, thinks the worse of everyone, and blames everything in the world for all the problems… except themselves.  That shit is heavy and I’m done with it. 

There’s this one friend, not even my friend, but a friend of a friend, who is always, always, always negative, thinks the worst of everyone, and when their fantasies don’t work out, blame everyone and everything for their failures. I won’t even answer his texts or calls anymore. I just don’t want that bullshit in my life. I don’t fucking care.  I tried to help, I tried to encourage, I tried to show a better way, but they didn’t listen, they never intended to listen, they just wanted to complain, and I’m not a sounding board.  They’ve NEVER once asked ME about anything –  how I was, did I need anything, not even how was my day.  OMG… these emotional vampires.  NOT HAPPENING!!!! I’m cutting all this bullshit out of my life and man, it feels GOOD!

So, in loving myself and realizing I deserve good friends, people who actually care about ME, who care about my day, who care about all the stupid little crazy shit I do all the time, THOSE are the people I will give my time, love, and attention.  All the rest can kiss my ass… because I’m done!!!

I’ve deleted a lot of old contacts… and it felt good. I feel lighter. I’m released from their bullshit. It’s not my job to save the world. I only am responsible to save myself.  You know, I’m an amazing person and if someone can’t see that and value that… they don’t deserve my friendship. I’m a damned good friend. I’m an even better woman.  I have so much love to give and share.  I’m awake. I’m fighting now, and I’m focused, and I love myself very much.  Watch me…  fly.

Till Next Time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: Blog Post, Hope, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, Musing., Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Do It Anyway

do-it-anyway

They say that wisdom comes with age. I’m not so sure that it’s only an age thing, but a combination of that and experience.  Life’s lessons aren’t just lessons learned as Father Time ticks away the years, because I’ve met many older people who’ve led very sheltered and narrow-minded lives, and never learned a damned thing. However, experience alone doesn’t grant us this wisdom either, because I’ve also seen some people who have experienced some tragic and great things, yet still never learned anything, either.

So, what is the key to wisdom?  I think it might have something to do with learning from the experiences we’ve had throughout time.  Not that we can learn everything, because no matter how much we try, we are fallible humans.  Everything we do learn, or are exposed to, is filtered through our level of understanding.  For some that level is higher, more open, and allows more to filter through, while others have smaller holes, and very little gets through.  Our filters are made up of our preconceived ideas, theologies, cultural influences, regional inspirations, religious teachings, parental guidance or lack thereof. Our filters come from the pain we’ve experienced, and the joys of pleasure.  My filter has some very small holes, as well as some very large ones.  But, have I learned anything?

Love is an enigma.  It’s the one thing I’ve pursued harder than anything in my life. It’s also the one thing I’ve ran from faster, and has eluded me more times than I could count.  It seems just when I find it, it’s taken away from me.  It’s like the biggest cosmic joke.  I’m so afraid to be happy, because just when I find happiness, it’s taken from me – first by death, then by cancer, and recently by … well, I’m still not sure what happened. It’s the most confusing of all.

So, what can I do?  Though I’m scared. Though I’m confused. Though my filters are all messed up. Though my faith is weak.  Though my heart is one big fucking mangled mess… I do it anyway.

I dare to hope, when I see no hope.

I dare to dream, even when my dreams are filled with nightmares.

I dare to smile, even when I feel like dying inside.

I dare to sing, even when my voice is cracked or hindered by the big knot in it.

I dare to love, even when I’m not loved in return.

This is the thing I’ve learned.  I could choose to hate, and be angry, and feel sorry for myself.  That’s easy.  I could hold grudges, return pain for pain, be vindictive, and be selfish.  That too is easy. These are the actions of the weak-minded, selfish, shallow, and deplorable.  They only breed onto themselves and cause more of what hurt them in the first place.  These become the ugly monsters in the universe, spreading their disease like a zombie. Once infected, they spread their hate to everyone else that dares to love or get close to them. I choose to be different.  I’d carry pain to keep from causing pain. I’d give everything I had to prevent someone else’s suffering.  I choose to give the very things I need most in my life. Because I know, that I know, that I know – because I’ve learned – the only hope I have is to give love if I ever hope to receive it. Real love. Not this imitation bullshit called passion, chemistry and infatuation.  Those are nice, but only temporary and vain.  Though most of the world accepts that vanity, and never moves beyond it, confusing it for love, I can’t. I’ve felt the real thing, so I can’t accept the imitation. If I have to sit across the table from a thousand men, or ten thousand men, I hope to someday look into a pair of eyes and see the love I’ve been waiting for, that I’ve been sending out into the universe, hoping and praying it makes its way back to me.  And if not… then I leave this world having sown love, hope, joy, goodness and kindness… so that maybe someone else doesn’t only meet made monsters.

This song sums it up perfectly.

Do It Anyway – Martina McBride

You could spend your whole life building something from nothing, and a storm could come and blow it all away… build it anyway.

You could chase a dream that seems so out of reach, and you know it might not ever come your way… dream it anyway.

God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good. And when I pray, it doesn’t always turn out like I think it should… but I do it anyway. I do it anyway.

This world’s gone crazy and it’s hard to believe that tomorrow will be better than today… believe it anyway.

You could love someone with all your heart for all the right reasons, and a moment they could choose to walk away… love ‘em anyway.

God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good. And when I pray, it doesn’t always turn out like I think it should… but I do it anyway. I do it anyway.

You could pour your soul out singing a song you believe in, but tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang… sing it anyway.  Sing it anyway.

I sing, I dream, I love ….anyway.

Categories: blogging, Dream, Dreams, Faith, friends, Health & Fitness, Hope, Hurt, Inspirational, Life, love, memes, Muses, music, Musing., Philosophy, poem, Quotes, Relationships, song, Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Do You Know How Much I Love You?

Do You Know How Much I Love You

Categories: blogging, Dreams, Hope, Hurt, Inspirational, Life, love, memes, Musing., Philosophy, Poetry, Quotes, Romantic, T.L. Gray, Uncategorized | Tags: | Leave a comment

Livin’ Out Loud – Liar

Our biggest obstacle when it comes to health, fitness, and even love is our propensity to make excuses. We have them. We have plenty of them. Our mindset is the largest part of where our battle resides.

We lie to ourselves. We tell ourselves we need or deserve the destructive behavior we commit. We tell ourselves it’s okay to abuse ourselves, after all it’s our period and we deserve that damned chocolate. We’ve been good and deserve to cheat on our diet. We did a lot more activity than normal so we can skip our workout. We’ll start tomorrow, and on and on. The excuses never stop.

Until we recognize we are our biggest abuser, see ourselves for who we really are, we won’t win, we won’t succeed, we won’t break free. It’s nobody’s fault we are like we are. It’s not our past, not our genetics, it’s not our environment, it’s not the food industry, it’s not our religion, it’s not our disease, it’s not our drugs, it’s not ANYTHING but our own choices. We are exactly where we want to be, allow to be, choose to be, or choose not to change.

Only we can choose to put down the doughnuts, pick up the jump rope, and continue to make that choice everyday.

We don’t need to have a lot of money, personal trainer, expensive food, diet drugs, or the right workout clothes or equipment. Before we pick up or use any of these tools we have to first strip ourselves of our excuses, stand in front of our mirrors naked, look at ourselves in the eye, and truly see who we truly are, not who we lie to ourselves.

We are not victims. We are the abusers of our own self. We are the ones that gorge on the whole box of snack cakes, doughnuts, bag of chips, soft drinks, chicken nuggets, ice cream, and chocolate. We can take all the diet pills we want, drink all the diet drinks we want, eat off the little plates filled with 2nds and 3rds, but it doesn’t change that we neglect what we need, feed our feelings, and cheat ourselves out of living our lives to our best potential. We see ourselves as victims, and victims are slaves. We are slaves to our addictions. We are slaves to our excuses. We are slaves to our abuses. We are taskmasters to our own depravity.

We are the asshole that stops us. Until we acknowledge our truth and see our truth, we can never change it. We’re killing yourself. We are an abuser, neglecter, and selfish bitch. Stop lying to ourself. Have the courage to face our truth and learn to live for ourself.

Then… Naked, bare, exposed, and determined… Change our story, change our stars, change our life.

Till next time,

Freed Slave, Survivor

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, Faith, family, Health & Fitness, Hope, Inspirational, Life, love, Muses, Musing., Philosophy, Relationships, Spiritual, Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , | Leave a comment

My Personal Epic Fantasy

My Personal Epic Fantasy

On my jog this morning I noticed something peculiar that set my mind pondering all sorts of odd ideas.  Not new ideas, but really a particular idea that’s been percolating in my mind for a very long time. It’s been years of study really. It’s also been a subject, or at least part of the subject, that’s come up recently in a few casual conversations.  Mind you, these conversations are with the male species ranging from 18 to 45.  You see, I’m an avid gamer, well, I’m a Destiny gamer, and 99% of the gamers I meet online are male.  So, it’s reasonable to expect that 99% of my daily conversations are with the male species.  I’m thankful at the moment that my roommate is female, so that way I get a splash of female perspective at times.  But, then again, she’s not your typical female roommate, because if we were a lesbian couple I’d definitely be the feminine aspect of that coupling.  Not to stray too far from the topic, let me bring it back to my peculiar finding.

It’s very populated where I live now. What a stark contrast from just a couple months ago when I practically lived in a Siberian wasteland and could go a whole week seeing only 2 or 3 people, if I was lucky, and only have to talk to maybe half of those if I was extremely lucky.  I now can’t walk out my front door without being greeted by a neighbor or two.  So, jogging around the bungalow complex, or down and around the park, or along the sidewalks by the various strip malls, I see a lot of people.  Typically, I’d have my earbuds blasting away an upbeat tune to keep me motivated and moving, but mostly as an excuse so I didn’t have to talk to anyone.  I also usually glance at the people I pass but keep my eyes forward to avoid contact.  Well, that’s NOT what I did this morning. I made eye contact with everyone I passed (mostly men, btw), smiled at them, waved, but kept moving.  Every one of them responded, even the ones who moved as I normally do with only a glance and eyes forward to avoid contact.

So, what was this deep thought I had?  It involves porn, but I’ll get to that in a minute.  Well, this thought occurred to me when this older gentleman, clearly in his mid-50’s, perhaps early 60’s since he’s running and in shape, made no subtle attempt in letting me know he really liked what he saw.  He stopped in front of me, took his ear buds out of his ears, and put both his hands up to his heart…as if to say he’s having a heart attack, but certainly not under any true duress.  The smile on his face lit up his whole countenance.  Against my usual judgment, I stopped.   “Darlin’, I just have to say, “Wowzers”.  There’s no other expression I can imagine that would fit any better.”  You must remember, I’m not 25 with legs that go on forever.  I’m 44, short, curvy, and have a wrinkle and a gray hair or two (with hair dye you’ll never see those).  Though I look young for my age, it’s clear to see I’m a mature woman, not a ‘young, hot, thang’.  I smiled and thanked him for his compliment and continued my run.

That’s not the first ‘older’ gentleman to hit on me since I’ve been here.  I live on the Space Coast in sunny Florida, where the rich recreate and the elderly retire out their golden years.  If I so choose, I could easily snatch up a “Sugar Daddy” or two, IF material possessions and money really meant anything to me.  Unfortunately, I’m sort of a gypsy, a wild soul looking for adventure more than possessions, love more than money, and living life more than just surviving it.  I’ve been in survival mode for too long.  It’s time I got back to being my wild, adventurous self.

I can’t help but think about what men really want in women.  What do the young want, the old want, or the lover want?  I listen to the guys talk in the game chats, and while they talk a big game (in most cases dehumanizing women into sexual objects, something to be fucked and tolerated… seriously… I NEVER hear the guys talk about how a woman is beautiful, smart, amazing, something to be cherished, adored, appreciated, and such… what a culture we live in), but I believe they all want the same thing; they just have different ideas of how to obtain it.  I.e.  I have this one friend that falls in love easily and often.  While he’s very wise on a lot of things, very knowledgeable on a lot more things, very brave in almost everything, I wouldn’t take love advice from him because he doesn’t even know what it is he really wants.  While being in ‘love’ with one woman, he keeps a small circle of good female ‘friends’ on a string (not too loose they disappear, not too close to be committed) just in case things don’t work out, more than likely so he won’t be alone until he falls in love again.  I’m pretty sure he feels deeply, but he doesn’t express those deep emotions, in a failed attempt at protecting his heart from getting hurt.  He hurts.  He’s human.  Failed relationships hurt, no matter how badass you might be.  He’d be quick to protest that he doesn’t fear anything, or isn’t affected when something falls apart. But what is it he’s really looking for?  What is it he hasn’t been able to find yet in choices he’s already made?  What was it about the women chosen before where he thought he’d found it, to only discover a short time later he can’t see that same thing to sustain it?

Not getting off topic, but shifting gears to come at it from another angle. There’s another discussion in my gaming chat groups about pornography.  The guys love it. Many of them watch it regularly, especially the friend mentioned above.  They think I’m a prude because I don’t watch porn.  I don’t not watch it because I’m a prude or think I’m too ‘goody’ to watch it, as if it’s garbage.  I don’t watch it because it isn’t necessary and I feel sends the wrong message about sex, love, AND relationships.  I love porn… but not to watch.  I love making porn with someone I love.  Not filming our sexual acts, but sharing our sexual, emotional, and psychological expressions together, using our imagination to play, have fun, and be together in every way. Being intimate.  Porn lacks ALL that intimacy and imagination.  I’m not anti-porn, I’m pro-intimacy.  I love to be kinky, sexy, and fun.  There’s NOTHING in porn that can beat my imagination, but when I feel a man expects what he watches in porn, it stifles my imagination. I can’t fake it, so I shut down.  What little porn I’ve watched was filled with a lack of emotion, lack of imagination, and minimizes sex to a mere physical act – with strangers. Does a stranger deserve to see and share that part of me, that part of my imagination, that part of my intimacy?  Hell NO. Yes, I’ve done it.  I’ve had a casual experience with a stranger.  While it was a little fun, and sexually charged, once it was over… it was over and I was empty.  Yet, I’ve had a better experience when a man I loved very much simply ran his fingers over my hair. So, I’m sorry… I just can’t get excited or get off watching other people who don’t love or care for one another fucking, and doing it in a boring way.  If your sex life is like a porn scene, that’s boring and I feel sorry for you, because your love life is going to be just as emotionally empty, because you’re training your mind and your body that ‘the porn way’ is the way sex is supposed to be done.  I also believe that this is the number one killer in relationships for guys, because they’ve set up their relationships like a porn scene < Boy meets girl, sparks fly, they fuck, think they’ve fallen in love because they had chemistry and the orgasms were great, but then the orgasms subside and when they look at each other all they see is a stranger.  They might fuck a few more times, but then that episode gets old, that page is starting to stick, and they want to see another one, meet another stranger>… and so the cycle goes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying ALL men are like this, but many are… and they don’t even know it.  I’m not harping on just men, either.  There are many women in the same boat.  I hope my friend someday learns to shut the porn off and swim into deeper waters, because I’d love to see him truly happy.  I hope all the Sugar Daddy’s out there finds beauty in the older women they may overlook, while they’re tripping all over themselves over the pretty plastic ones.  As for this gypsy, I’m still not going to watch porn, and I’ll still avoid the Sugar Daddy’s and their pockets of sweets, and keep running and smiling until I find my personal epic fantasy.  I suppose that’s why porn doesn’t work for me, I’m not into the small and empty, but epic and fantastical magic.  It’s no wonder my gamertag is Kvothe from The Name of the Wind.  The music this Edema Rue plays has a meaning so deep the Chandrian will try to hunt me down and silence me, and the Arcanum doesn’t have enough room to record it.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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