Walk it of: walking of a bad day

After a long day when I am tired

when I have been staring at a computer screen to long

when I have been getting nowhere

I tie my shoe laces and then go for a walk,

I walk the street, through the park-lands, over hill

looking at houses, paths, soaking in my surrounding,

And then the day didn’t feel so bad, doesn’t feel so long,

maybe I could get one more project done, I have a few ideas!

Rants 4 and 5,6 for today

After a rather nice morning stroll through the forest, a few thoughts rants and stories writen I sat down for a rather yummy breakfast. food for thought, or food to fuel a new rant of mine. Here I will continue my goal for today to write 10 short thoughs, roughtly around 600 words each enough to pose an argument, or enough space to ramble on. So far today I have writen three and have added a few of my resent favourites to the last post. Why not celebrate something I am proud of by reblogging? It is not as though reading it again will me ash in your mouth.

 

title: editing my essays

After breakfast things move slow, I had so much ambition to get things done today and yet I am stuck in this pit of like whatever, what is the point of carrying on. I am trying to stay focused trying to reach the seemingly unreachable. somemethods I have for writting is writng the same paragraph over and over again until it is somehow better and all the cluncky parts just fizzle out. This method I used a lot in high school, with the essays I had to write. I would write out the essay and then just right the same paragraph over and over again until it bought on its own sort of magical light. This proved useful as my teacher really liked the paragraphs that I had written again and again. A way to fix things but without putting too much thought into it.

This has proved much more tediuse with longer writings, as writing ten times the amount of paragraphs that a piece of writing will have, can be a process. But I feel as though at some point that I will have to do this if I want to bring my rambles into something more readable. though at the momemnt I like the mix of ramble to something more consise. Maybe this will be my style of writing? maybe this is how I will get things done? maybe this is a good thing, to not follow the rules that have been set out infront of me.

Title: split bill

Where was  I something about pork? I really don’t like shredded ham on pizza, so many times as a child I have had shredded ham. And felt bloated and not well. I think good food should leave you feeling well and happy like the delicious nepalise food I had last night and there was a split bill that we had last night and I don’t think we handled it the best when the cashier started to get confused. I think he had a learning disability and I have been in that situation as a cashier when I add something up wrong and then struggle to do basic math because my brain has turned to jelly. I wanted to solve it and make it simple for him, but so did my friends and that didn’t help the cashier with us all talking at once. I am thinking that a good way to not only solve it but to make it a less stressful situation for the cashier would be to make everyone take a break. “okay this will take a moment to sort out, but before we do that lets take a break. The lovely gentelman was nice enough to let us split the bill for the nice meal we have had. ” “friend, would you like to tell me your method of bill splitting so then we can repeat it nice and calmly to the lovely gentelman who is letting us split the bill?” then we would discuss my friends method, I would add whatever points. and with our organised method My friend would relay it back to the cashier. And done. Less stress, everyone happy, If only split bills worked that easily.

Title: I am but a simple milk maiden

I sat there crying my eyes out, what did I know about vampires? what did I know about the demans that lurk at night. I was but a simple milk maiden. An a-sexual, simple, milk maiden. who knew so little of the word, but had high speed internet to search up cake recipies. So I was a cake conasure, a-sexual, simple, milk maiden. Did I mention that I dressed super femme. I was but a simple a sexual, super femme, cake conassure milk maiden. who knew so little about vampiers. And yet I had been called into the town this evening asked to battle the undead. how did they come to the conclustion that I – but a simple  a-sexual, super femme, cake conassure milk maiden. who knew so little about vampiers. – To fight the undead. So I walked into town, carring a wooden pole thinggy that I carry to hold milk with. And placed it down in the town square, I gave the milk to the shop keepers who handed me coins in exchange. I then walked into the town square where people where gathering, many faces. There she is! I heard voices say. and wispering amongst the crowd. Come here, step to the front young lady where we can all see you.

I stood on the stage and looked around, it seemed like everyone in town and the sourrounding farms had gathered, this was more people than I had seen at the town dance last summer where I felt the happiest I had ever felt with my pink and purple dress, laying down in the hay with friends for a rest after so much dancing and giggling. Young lady we have some questions for you. I was so confused, I had never been the centre of attention even amongst my small ground of friends. As I was but a simple  a-sexual, super femme, cake connoisseur milk maiden. who knew so little about vampires. 

And so I stood there looking bashful at the many onlookers. Young child we have gathered here today as there has been some concern with the vampires that live over the far hill. They do not normally bother us, but something recently has given us great concern. Young child, the mayor of the town, held my hand. And then with his other pointed at the wall behind us, the old stone wall, that had stood the test of time, most likely build when people first settled in this area. On the bricks carved into the stone and then painted read in the carvings was: We want to speak to the Milk Maiden, regards the vampires!

This was pretty clear as I was the only milk maiden in the village that they would want to speak to me. But why? I told the townfolk that I did not know what this was about and that  I was but a simple  a-sexual, super femme, cake connoisseur milk maiden. who knew so little about vampires. But from the mutterings and chatter it seemed clear that whatever this was about they wanted me to fix it.

 

 

Sunday rants, stories, or whatever.

A daily collection of thoughts rants, rambles, short stories and moments of funny as I trundle and trudge through the mess and muck of my mind with one goal to write ten short stories a day. There will be nine short stories in this collection as I have already posted the first today. Basically all the titled notes below are rants that turn into stories. I did not seperate them as I wanted to show you- the lovely reader. How thoughts and ideas develop in my head, eg. from a rant about the weather into a story about a world of soup.  enjoy!

Title: writing is like jumping on hovering boxes, or whatever. 

600 words to say I am stuck seems like a loong way to get nowhere. what good is it that I am here and what good is it if I cannot move from here. It seems rather useless to just be and not have the will or power to make it something more than what it seems to be. I start out small or from a point that I can consider to be something worth while and from there I attempt to jump onto a higher point of thought something with a tale that I can grab onto, a sort of method in my madness.

But for now I am happy jumping on boxes, making my way up from one box to a higher box, leaping and making the climb, there is a long way to fall down now, and the sturdy boxes that seem to float in mid-air hold my body weight and the extra force it takes to jump and fall onto one. They are like a cardboard box, though made from copper or brass, but somehow a little softer than hard metal.

I would count to ten hold my breath and then make the leap to the next box. I would do this one after the other. I am not sure why I felt necessary to get this done, but whatever. Writing I have been told is like jumping on hovering boxes, or whatever. I look at how far I have come and it seems so inferiour. I take this time as I am sitting here to masturbate. This is my fantasy and I do what I will. Luckly I had a large bottle of lube in my back pocket, I pulled it out and covered my hand in the sticky mess. I fingered my arsehole. This was how I would start my “self-meditation”. And so it went, touching and prodding myself until I was to tired to care and just wanted to lay down and rest. reaching out with my non-lube-hand I grabbed a hovering box that was within reach and pulled it closer to me, on these two hovering boxes. I curlled up to rest. The warm air was like a blanket and the gental sway of the boxes in the brease rocked me to sleep.

I dreamt long and hard, of solid things, and soft things, I was climbing a great big hill and battling a dragon at some point, but really I was just farting in my sleep. When I awoke the sun was high in the sky and this could be why I felt so strange. could it be that I had grown, could it be that maths was my friend? I do not know where these questions come from or the answers that they would provide.

And so as the sun arose from an unknown point and blue filtered all around me I climbed higher for the purpose and goal of climbing, I had a process, a method to my madness and I was determined to make the climb. as I climbed higher the boxes changed shape from short skinny boxes to long flat boxes, and I found myself dragging small boxes with me, huddling them together to make a little nest in the sky.

I made a flat floor with a raised section for where I would rest. I built walls, and window holes, I made a roof, and after a long day as the sun began to dip away from an unknown point in the sky I hang my feet over the side of my nest and looked on, the world below, and my bottle of lube sitting next to me. I was the masturbatory climber in the sky. 

title: 2,000 reasons why to keep on blogging and why THE RULE-SETTER is bad for your town. 

A new chapter, I had come to this town to start a new chapter in my life and I was concerned that my past would somehow follow me, Like an unwashed cat, slinking about, meow, meow, meow hiss. On an unrealated not with regrards to blogging I remember reading artilcles online to work out how to run a blog, there were things about adding tags, having titles, and then there was also a side note I had forgotten about blog post over 2,000 words getting a better highraque? Idk how that is pronounced  but oh well. So that probably would explain why some of my older, longer blog post have stood the test of time. This post will be 600 words per short thought, times 10 short thoughts for the daily goal which would make it 6000 words? minuse the first thought I had already posted today would bring it down to 5,400 words…. that is a fair few words. and sounds like a busy day to me to write that much. But that gives me atleast 2,000 reasons why to keep on blogging today.

I started this day goal driven, when I make the rules then things go in the direction I want, when I set the goals things go in the direction I want. I can’t sit around for someone else to make up the rules, that would only put me at a disadvantage, who knows what rulse they would make or if they would change them. And like a raging thought that was born in my mind. The rule-setter was born.

Crying and windging the rule-setter was a small child, born with a piece of parchment and a quill. ready to take down notes, and jot down thoughts and ideas. The rule-setter had very few thoughts and ideas but all the same, food, poop, milk, hugs, cold, warm, was a start. these thoughts were scribbled down on the parchment, not as words but as lines that made sence to a baby that had not yet developed the ability to hold a quill, and had no understanding of the language in which it was born into. But with time and desire, the rule-setter began to write more ledgeable thoughts and ideas.

One idea that the rulesetter had was that all milk should be delivered to him before anyone else has any milk, until the rulesetter was full. This caused a lot of problems in the town as mothers and dairy milkmen, would come bounding down the street and up the driveway, demanding to deliver milk to the rulesetter. Women would remove there tops and force their swollen breast at the door, and milk men would attempt to push past the women holding their breast to get his milk closer to the door and closer to the child who wanted all the milk.

The child – rule-setter would crawl over to the front door hungry, and could hear shouting and yelling and the russle of shoving as people crowded around the front door of his home. The rule setter would open the front door and be covered in a delicious mix of milks, this would be the rule-setters daily ruiten. once full, he would utter a content ” thank-you townfolk, that is all enjoy your day” and with a wave shut the door behind himself. left there as the townfolk awake from their frantic daze they would embarised make their way back to their houses and lives and carry on like nothing had happened.

The rulesetter would become more problematic for the town as he grow up.

Title: Fell into a bowl of soup

I was cooking a hot pot of soup, as it steamed away on the stove I ladeled out a portion that I knew I would enjoy. The steam from the soup fogged up my glasses as I breathed in the yummy smells.

I sat down to enjoy my soup, with a spoon I slurped away and drank it down, when I was near finished I put my soup spoon down and with both hands on the bowl drank down the last of it.

I held it above my head to get the last drop, but then the bowl slipped from my hands and it fell onto me.

But instead of it hitting me on my head, I went into the bowl. I don’t even know how this was happening but it was like the bottom of the soup bowl entered me into a portal that took me to another world. A world of soup.

I crash-landed in the soup bowl land, swimming about, treading water. The warm soup and noodles, and peas floated around me, I could feel my whole body becoming more relaxed with the salt bath I was taking.

I had a few slurps of the soup as I stayed afloat. Looking around I did not see an edge to this vast soup ocean. so I started rounding up peas and noodles, tying the noodles in knots, poking holes in the peas and threading the noodles through them.  soon I had a pea and noodle raft.

I laid back on my pea and noodle raft, breathing heavily. Now I had time to think.

to be continued…..

title: but gone mad

In the realm of bizarre, I like to think of silly things, explore them and see how far I can take them.

What if my butt fell of? what. I don’t even Understand? Okay so lets say that “the butt” is detachable and is held onto the body with a strap. And one day that leather strap broke and the butt just fell of. Would I still be able to poop?

I would like to think that my but would go on functioning and producing poop as I went about my day. Maybe our lives will change, I have to move interstate to do my busy job.

But every now and then i’ll hit my butt up, we will go out for three coffees, head back to my butts house attach that leather strap, and have a good three coffee poop.

title: bear with me

Stuck, My foot trapped between a rock and a log, oh shit how did this happen,

I was running through the woods, a great bear at my heals, I know how he knew I was there, I am normally so quiet, but tonight I was careless and now I am running, well not running trapped with a bear chasing me.

I turn to hear the rumble of the beast as it pounces ontop of me, I feel the full weight of the bear pressing down on my bones, I hear a snap, oh shit was that a bone? my ribs, I look down to see that the log which had trapped my leg against the rock had been crushed, and my foot slid free, I poked the bear in the ribs and wiggled out.

This big beast, was thrashing about, but was unable to tell the difference between me and the log, as it attacked the log I made my escape, back into the village, I will never be so careless again.

Ttile: the rock-pool beneath my bed

The rockpool beneath my bed,

I let my food dangle, as my toes creat small ripples in the water,

fish swim about, some curiously, touch my toes before continuing on,

the deep blue, how deep I do not know,

once I rolled over in my sleep and fell into the cold, crisp water,

boy did I wake up that day, spashing about, pulling myself up, soaked,

dripping wet onto my white dry sheets that had just me washed and drried on the line that day,

the rockpool beneath my bed, what treasures you hold.

 

I hope you enjoyed a few of my rants and tales. But for now I will take a break have some breakfast and continue writing today!

what I am grateful for today

This is a daily routine I do, post a list of things that I am grateful for. This list is posted for two reasons. For me to notice, reflect and appreciate the good things I have in my life, and also to inspire others to think about the good things that they have in there life. 🙂

  1. that I have many friends that want to spend time with me
  2. That I have people in my life who are interested in similar things to me
  3. That is is so easy to access a wide variety of ingredients to cook with
  4. That my cooking skills have expanded and I am able to cook a variety of dishes
  5. That I have so much to look forward to with designing and social functions
  6. I have pets that want to play with me and I can spend time with while I am at home alone.

you lose

I have had my fill and do not crave the constant attention, I could so with a breack from it all,

I think my open heart is now closing a little bigger over the new things that I have learnt,

I will be happy going my own way, until I burn my fingers again,

Morning yoga sounds exciting, laugh at my own jokes,

Cleaning up, externally, is the same as cleaning up  internally,

A glass of wine to start my day, cheecky,

Little outfits, as I play, reading letters all the better,

Wash my hair have a bath, I like things wetter,

Faces change but my feelings stay the same,

I learnt a lot from not having you around,

All I can say now is that I feel sorry for you, missing out.

DD LG

A poem about dominate daddy little girl sex role play.

 

have you had anything fun to lick lately?

A cock to play with,

suck and lick but if I cum I will slap you

looking up and begging like a good girl,

Beg and plead while my mouth is full with your cock,

That’s better, good girls always beg,

I want daddy to unload on my face and then finger me like the dirty little girl I am, 

Yum, bent over my lap, spank, cry

I love it when daddy makes me cry,

Tears make me hard

grind

Morning glory from a body so tight and doughy in all the right places,

Lay back now, I want my fill, smiling eyes covered, Lucy’s juicy swallow,

Suck and lick, hard and thick, build under pressure,

Naked body, undressed I am impressed,

I’ll spend all morning loving you, the day outside waiting for us,

Wake up early go for a walk, I’ll sit on the sand when you kayak on the beach,

Lets fool around in nature, be my sexual teacher,

Spank, you grabbing the back of your head as I hold you down,

You want me inside, backdoor I will hide, gentle lover you like it rough,

More and more from you, it is never enough