5 Months. As of today we’ve been dating for 5 months, (from the date of Carlos O Kelly’s) somehow surviving the 3 month cursed hump when I typically get bored and move on. In ten days we will have known each other for 6 months. Then In 2 Days and 13 Hours my sister and I will be relocating to Davenport to move into Knights, well technically yes and no. His house, our own apartment, but same difference. Then I will no longer be slave to the pit known as Burlington, and instead I will belong to him. My Knight in shining spandex briefs. :P
Why deal with problems when you can simply ignore them and pretend they don’t exist? September 26 will be just the kind of day to let ignorant bliss take over, as Venus and Jupiter get together and encourage you to focus on the sunny side of life. Good times, happy feelings, and a bit of overindulgence will be the norm as issues get pushed aside for another day.
Just be sure to enjoy it while it lasts, because by September 28, romantic dilemmas will start to override this happy-go-lucky attitude as Venus squares off against Mars. Yes, passion will reign, but so could insensitivity as you walk a delicate line between Venus’ pacifying tendencies and Mars’ aggressiveness.
On the next day, September 29, Mercury moves into Scorpio for a long stay that will last until early December. For the next two-plus months, your conversations will trend toward intense and emotional. Answers won’t come easily as you mull over problems in great depth and detail; you’ll be looking for solutions that are sure to stick. A newfound urge to get the last word in will also make life more tense.
Finally, as the month comes to a close, you’ll start to feel some of the disruptive effects of the Sun-Pluto-Uranus transit that’s set to occur in the early days of October.
On September 21, the Sun moves out of hard-working Virgo and into loving, fair-minded Libra. Libra is considered the most relationship-oriented sign of the zodiac — not because it’s particularly passionate, but because it’s so socially intuitive. With Libra at the helm, you and your partner are far more likely to concern yourselves with each other’s well-being, with the result being that you end up happier — and more in love!
Of course, Libra isn’t just about love. You can also expect the next four weeks to be filled with elegance, balance, and sound judgments, though your attempts to be fair at all costs could lead to indecision.
Unfortunately, September 21 isn’t entirely about peace and love as two heavyweight planets, Saturn and Pluto, meet for a somber day of hardship and struggle. Keep in mind, though, that the challenges you face will provide tangible results in the near future.
Pluto also turns direct on September 21, which will clear out certain obstacles in the coming months. Still, the end of Pluto’s retrograde will create a very subtle effect — so subtle that you may not notice its benefits for quite some time.
Not much really going on. I spent the past two days relaxing mostly. Tomorrow is back to work. Only twelve more days and I am all his. He is my world and I can not wait to breathe him in. To cling to every word and melt in his embrace. How long has it been since I’ve seen the romantic side of myself before he came across my path? Months? Much Longer. Years? At least. He had me from across the room. Love at first sight. Knowing myself well enough, he could have me forever if he chooses. I’ve opened my heart fully, and passion bleeds from me like a raging river uncontrollably. I can’t help it. I have the hardest time holding it back. Attempting not to be overwhelming, even though the feelings overwhelm me to the point of frustration, but I fear they may be too much for him as they are certainly almost overpowering for me. How can I express the extent of my emotions? Sometimes when I look at him, I nearly want to cry and tremble because I can barely hold it all in. My thoughts racing, my admiration enthralled. To me he is perfect in so many ways. From the strength that he displays in his posture, the deepness of his eyes like a universe and mine are stars that reflect inside them when I manage to catch his gaze, the wit of his tongue and the cleverness behind his logical thoughts, to the warmth of his arms; my ultimate safe place. I ache for his presence every moment of everyday. He gives me a sense of completeness I have searched for since the moment I began to breathe. I know I will spend the rest of my life attempting to put my affections into words.
|Put you head to my heart. Hear the beating of my burning desire flow around my body. Close your mouth around mine, taste all I am. Feel my heat, my fire, light up inside me as you come closer. See the pure, raw love I hold for you. And let us burn together. Forever. We can already see each others flames flicker in exctasy, together, as they will always. Forever.|
|by Arphendess Estelwen|
The Way He Makes Me Feel
There’s no chill and yet I shiver
There’s no flame and yet I burn
I’m not sure what I’m afraid of
And yet I’m trembling
There’s no storm yet I hear thunder
And I’m breathless why I wonder
Weak one moment
Then the next I’m fine
I feel as if I’m falling every time I close my eyes
And flowing through my body is a river of surprise
Feelings are awakening
I hardly recognize as mine
What are all these new sensations?
What’s the secret they reveal?
I’m not sure I understand
But I like the way I feel
Why is it that every time I close my eyes he’s there?
The water shining on his skin the sunlight in his hair
And all the while I’m thinking things
That I can’t wait to share with him
I’m a bundle of confusion
Yet it has a strange appeal
Did it all begin with him
And the way he makes me feel?
I like the way he makes me feel.
“Please, just for me, forget the steps… Hold me, feel the music, and give me your soul. Then I can give you mine.”
i have arrived at my time
to dance with life
i should hold an arabesque
in defiance of movement
but if i had my choice
i’d grab your hand and we’d
dance a tango in celebration
of the very love and hatred
that keeps us alive
come, press your cheek to mine
and let’s dance
look into my eyes and see
the power you have over me
let that energy coarse through us –
through our hands as we embrace
we’ll plant it back
into the ground
with our feet
Tango starts with embracing. It’s the first connection into the dance. The embrace in tango is like an embrace in life: it has to be natural and with affection, otherwise it will not live. Embrace your partner as though you are about to dance the dance of your life. The man must hold the woman securely but with freedom to move, must lead, not force. The woman must relax in the embrace and feel each intention of the man’s lead, but know her own axis. It must always be a two-way experience. Each embrace is different just as each person is different. They say that you can tell whether a person can dance tango from the feel of the first embrace. The embrace is ours…
“The tango is an embrace in movement. A man and a woman enter a dialogue through their bodies, guided by music which has an almost somber quality of yearning. Of a passion that can that can never be fulfilled. Of a sweet sadness. Two strangers become one for the duration of the dance. Two opposites come together briefly to create the fantasy of a harmonious whole.”
– Gisela Kirberg Mamone
Tango has an unmentioned, but implicitly understood, 30 Second Rule. It is the quintessential litmus test of chemistry and compatibility that is rarely wrong and it is very simple. This is how it goes.
Someone asks you to dance. You say yes. You observe how he takes your hand or doesn’t. Does he lead you to the dance floor or walk somewhat ahead and you follow? He pauses and stands still and faces you. He opens his arms, offering his invitation to the foyer of the house that is him. He accepts your right hand as your palm slips against his. You gently let your hand float into his, like a feather seeking a unique cradle of fit. Your left hand reaches for his shoulder if his height is near yours or his bicep if he is somewhat taller. A unbreathed sigh settles you into the moment and then….
The music starts. You notice if he starts to dance and lead you right away or does he stay still and listen for the music until it seeps into him. You see if he chooses the moment, the exact bar or beat, the precise, scuffed space on the dance floor, the aperture between the other couples, before taking that first step, and you, with him.
Is he a man that can wait for what he wants? Does he hear his own song or does he join the chorus of other men who move in unison like a collective tango fleet on that same first beat? Does he do what is expected or does he listen to his own voice? The two of you are a ship; he is the captain and you are precious cargo or first mate but you have no way of knowing until the first wind fills those sails, if he is able to navigate whatsoever. Until you know, you put more trust in the wind than in the man who shepherds it.
In a second and yet in slow motion, all of him is comes towards you in a sensation of new male person. You are close enough to observe the hair that tease at his collar bone, his shave or lack thereof, and his sideburns and texture of his skin. You see the base of his throat, his Adam’s apple and pulse of his breath and telltale tattoo of his heart that reveals him or his mood – no matter how impassive he seems. You preen quietly – knowing it comes partly from the mandate ahead of him and partly from the very nearness of you. You breathe in gently and test the air between you, subtly inhaling or cologne or laundry soap, shirt starch or him. You delicately, imperceptively, test the scent to see if you can live with it for three minutes of the dance or longer than that. You assess the scent and determine if he is someone to dance with or a man you could make love to- not that you will but it is this primal thing we all do. You can hear his breath and wonder if he hears your own heart race as you try and still it and devote to the dance at hand. You are a tango woman and know how the game is played; like a tango geisha, you disclose nothing.
The dance begins before the first bar.
You sense male confidence battling with his own clamor. Some men tremble slightly, their hands are cold and clammy but you never register or transmit the knowledge. Most men are impassive. And even if not, you never can really discern if they are nervous because of the challenge ahead or maybe it is indeed, as tango efforts not to be: personal.
Some men ignore the premise of letting the woman choose the proximity and choosing close versus open embrace. They draw you to them and your left hand loops around the nape of their neck or they hold you at arms’ length – a nod to your prerogative as the follower to stay close or far, as you wish. It is all sublime. You feel him silently the shape of your body, your breasts where they touch his chest in an intimacy that is undeclared as it is tacit. No one says a word. It is so profoundly cool and the fact that it is actually even a legal act still befuddles me.
Some men may smile politely without meeting your eyes. To do more is to commit and no one will commit more than this before the 30 Seconds Rule is passed. To smile dilutes the tension and the mystique. To smile and meet someone’s eyes is to make a pronouncement you cannot yet offer.
The dance begins. All bets are off; the equation is simply this: can he lead me? Can I trust this male human being to guide me on the floor, take me on a tango adventure and bring me back? Will he protect me from the other dancers, hard shoulders of men leading other women; dagger points of other women’s shoes that can pierce my instep if he doesn’t lead well. Does he know what I like? Can he see what I can do? Is his style gentle or quick; does he fill in each bar of music with steps or is he confident enough to wait? Wait for the music, his mood and wait for me – to let me catch up or follow or attune myself. Does he dance with me and for me or for the other men to be impressed. Does he gloss over mistakes and chuckle gallant and low or titch his tongue in exasperation of me and himself. How present is this man? All this data is swirling and tabulating 10 seconds into the dance; you are barely out of the tango harbor.
You adjust your touch on his right hand side and move your hips to contour his, aligning the distance and discrepancies between height and body type. You catch a tiny piece of second wind. He is no longer just a man, or a stranger. Instead you have moved into his country and passed from visiting diplomat to native. He gave you a passport when he asked you to dance. And now you are patriots together, of a newly formed, tiny country of legs, arms, and steps.
The music plays on and now you relax ever so slightly. He can lead and you will be taken care of if you just do your part. Worry melts into the night vapors; you are in safe hands if not yet tango’s promised land.
If he is nervous but a new dancer, you change roles. Instead of him guiding you, you guide him in leading you. You accept him, as is, as a man, certainly but as a new leader. To help bring balance to imbalance, you go somewhat limp, verging on acquiescent but maintaining a vestige of spine – so he can find the energy and force of direction that works for him without battling your energy. You determine, even that, even if he is a novice, if he has tango potential. If so, you give yourself over to his tutoring as he leads you. One day – a year, more years from now – he might be another contender and that is worthy of patience and respect. You respond to the potential that might be there and the tension eases but the dynamics stay.
20 seconds pass and you understand his moves. What was a surprise 20 seconds before is now a pace and a habit. He repeats a series of steps and what was experimental – a series of doled commands and responses, now takes on a finesse. You react well and completely and feel him relax as he sees you read him. He tries something else and you follow in a swathe that is fusion and autonomy all at once. Never a fumble until he introduces a turn you could not anticipate. You jockey again for position, like a restless filly, adjusting just that much more; maybe letting him closer or moving with familiarity to better ground. With newly set intention, the dance continues and an aura of deliberation coats each move. You no longer know where your perfume and his scent starts and stops; you no longer notice and difference in height and the line of his body is only the borderlines of your own. You close your eyes; the room falls away.
The 30 second mark nears. The consensus is not only can he guide you but you are also received.There is a fit. You feel his relief and pleasure behind that impassivity. You know that he knows you are a match for him. You’ve passed this strange test and now are in tango’s inner circle.
Such 30 second dances birth a set of two, three, more dances. You unconsciously file him in the back recesses of your Tango Partners A list. You have found someone to fall in love with for three dances or maybe more. With him, you can feel safely seduced.
Tango is the ultimate safe sex and consummate, mini romance. You can, if you care to, imagine, for as many bars of music as you need, he is The One. Or you can imagine the one you truly love and truly desire but is not in your life (they have left or not yet appeared), is instead there, partnering you. But always, underneath the tango foreplay is a frontier of a man you could perhaps fall in love with but won’t. It is enough you are finally in the dock of the bay of connection. This feeling lasts as long as the music plays; it is all you want and need. Because any other way is tango at the movies; and this is tango in real life.
The dance or dances end. He nods, less smile this time but his eyes meet yours instead. Tango hosannas. His slight bow and thanks is his way of saying, “Another time – we will dance again. Make no mistake. I will remember you.’ Like thieves sharing magic, it is all sotto voit and sotto emotion. So sweet it is a caress that makes your heart arch. There is no hurry. You will see him again and pray/hope/wish the magic repeats in another 30-second romance that teases your spirit and slakes your soul. And if he never returns or does and the magic is gone, there is always another tango boat on the way. You try not to notice who else he dances with and if he holds her quite the same way or shares precisely the same touch. Some things, within tango or outside it are sacred. But perhaps in tango, we women become territorial she-cats even as we appear to be tripping the light fantastic and above such she/he matters of gravity.
And that is how you fall in love in 30 seconds.
After a call to my Best friend Jake, things look like they are on the UP & UP.
Yesterday had been a real drag. Obviously from reading my previous posts on was on a downward spiral. Still may be, but at least I got hope. Having been overwhelmed to the point of saying “Fuck it” I once again attempted to finish my homework last-minute. (it happens every time) But on this special occasion I was already exhausted and passed out mid chemistry exam with the computer on my lap, only to discover its “Timed Out” screen when I awoke about 4am. Fucking Peachy…
I layed in bed all day, Pouting mostly. But I come back to the computer later to see this:
Knight : Nice ass! *runs away crazily*
This is why I love him. My day went up hill afterwards and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. The family invited me down for dinner (FREAKIN FINALLY) and after a stressed out text message to Jake, he really came through for me and Deseree. Not only does he have a truck at his disposal I can use to help us move, but he’s going to do it for nearly next to nothing. Said cover the gas and throw me a ten. I breathe a sigh of relief. The big thing that I had been banging my head against a wall trying to figure out has finally come to a close. DAMN you mother for putting stressful thoughts in my head. The Law of Attraction is once again on my side. I need to remember to just be patient, not to worry, it will always all work out.
Okay… You know its bad when you have to put on your to do list to remember to shower… I honestly can’t remember the last time I did. I think tomorrow will make it a week and that’s fucking disgusting. When’s the last time I even wrote in this. Over a week a least. I’m exhausted but I really need to write things out. So much has been going on and I still can’t manage to juggle anything. I seriously need a personal assistant or something. You know something is wrong when I stop bathing, my room becomes a sty and I don’t do anything but sit in bed.
After speaking to Dr Bair Wednesday he reassured me that I’m on the right track with this move and my priorities seem to be in order. I think I need this move more and more as the days pass by. I grow weary and i’m overwhelmed. I need to downsize and have began doing so. I’m no longer going to perform at the Bart Howard room. I called Richard and told him that it will have to be postponed till later months. I can’t deal with that looming over my head while I already have so much on my plate. The move in itself is enough to think about along with working and attempting to locate a new job, but with school on top of things, I can’t cope. This this so much more difficult than full sail and I can’t help but question “What was I thinking?”. At the time I had nothing going on and was dying of boredom. Now my plate is so full I can’t keep the plates spinning and they are crashing down around me. One by one I have turned down all my obligations with various band offers and chances to go spend time with friends. It disappoints me that I’m not capable of fulfilling my commitments. I got in over my head somehow and I can’t manage on my own anymore. I was so grateful yesterday when Deseree, Neal, and Knight all came through for me and helped me move my stuff from Wendy’s over to Grandma’s. Had they not been there to help I know I would have broke down crying. But Neal didn’t seem inconvenienced in anyway. Desi I think was actually grateful not to be stuck in the house with mom, even though she kinda kicked her out for the night over a booty call, and Knight was calm and somehow managed to keep me remotely so as well. I discovered I enjoy laying on a couch with him. Being held in his arms is the best place in the world to me right now. And even though he didn’t say much and seemed bored if not more, his presence was the one thing in the world that made me feel like everything would be okay. I knew that he had a calming and encourage way about him when it comes to me, but I never realized to what extreme I’ve truly come to need him.
My only hope is that once the move happens things in life will calm down, and I’ll be able to focus on what is really important. School being the top priority. I need to follow Dr Bair’s advice and look into daily routines for people with ADHD and Bi-Polar/Borderline and really attempt to make them habits when I move. This is my chance to get my life on the right track. I need to take full advantage of it. Please let me be able to handle this. I just hope with the support of Knight and my sister, I’ll be able to find that place of Zen I’ve been desperately searching for all my life. I refuse to be a head case like my mother, yet I seem to be failing miserably. I’ve been a negative Nancy for days now and can’t seem to shake it. I just look forward to the moment when all our stuff is moved in and I have that moment of clarity where I don’t have to worry. I can just be.
I definitely blame all the stressors as my only real problem, but they seem to be creeping up as issues in other ways. My insecurities are way higher, my need to be held is to the max. So much so that I ended up running in desperation to someone who could provide it.
“How pathetic am I?”. Were my thoughts when I woke up Thursday morning. No longer forlorn with loneliness, but instead facing a growing guilt inside my head. I was at Tristan’s. I banged my head against the wall in the bathroom thinking “idiot, idiot, idiot… What have you done.”? He’s obviously not over me, this was not a casual thing for him. As he stared in my eyes I recognized it as the look I had so desperately been needing. That look of absolute wanting and desire. But, I also realized in that moment as he sweetly petted my head and kissed my cheek tenderly, that it wasn’t just anyone who could fulfill this need for me really… I want Knight to look at me that way. That look of almost desperate longing, yet tender, wistful, and hungry. I guess I just want him to need me as eagerly as I have for him. I felt terrible about Tristan. I had unintentionally led him on, either that or he’s attempting a head game desperately wants me to get caught back up in the romance of him. I told him at the bar I was still seeing Knight and was even moving up there with him, but he pursued me anyway. On a funny note, I couldn’t stand how boney he was. He wasn’t comfortable at all. I didn’t get that sense of safety. In fact it was quite opposite. He has the most gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen and I wasn’t even willing to run my fingers through it. I was detached, and disgusted with myself. How did I allow myself to get caught up in such a desperate position? The girl who was so independent of men is now starving and begging to be loved, even if its just pretend from a stranger apparently. What is wrong with me?
Well can’t put it any better than Cheap Trick did: I want to feel wanted.