There is a picture on my desktop of a woman sitting on a chair, she is wearing trousers, smoking a cigarette. She is wearing no blouse. Her small breasts are free of restraint and she wears them proudly.
Another picture I have is of a grown man sucking on a woman's nipple.
I look at these images and wonder how many of us, female humans, are proud of our breasts. Their shape, size, girth, how they droop or perk, how they feel when we touch them, how aroused we feel at their sight.
I wonder how many of us would walk around our very own houses without a top on, and feel it to be natural.
Me, I would love to be naked all the time. I'd love to wear clothes only when leaving the house, and with no underwear at that. I'd love to come home to my partner, leave my outer outfit on the chair and continue my day wearing only my skin. I'd love to feel his skin against mine, all of it, whenever we hug.
What an excentric world, this one, where we hide from our very selves.
Showing posts with label Beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beauty. Show all posts
07 July, 2016
01 July, 2016
Recurrence
I had a dream, I've been having it for many years now, in which a woman is making love to me, or I am making love to her.
She is always the same woman, Her hair is black, her complexion is thin and delicate. She's fearless. Her face may vary, sometimes she looks like a girl, sometimes like a fragile woman, sometimes like a lioness. Sometimes she makes love to me, sometimes I make love to her.
Every time it gets better. Every time I let her in further into my soul, I care less about her seeing the pleasure I experience from her touch, or I care less that she will be off put by the way I touch her. I've learned she likes it, too.
The right kiss in the right place.
The right pace of movements...
This time we were at a cozy hotel by the beach. Our friends would never suspect our actions, we were totally free.
She is always the same woman, Her hair is black, her complexion is thin and delicate. She's fearless. Her face may vary, sometimes she looks like a girl, sometimes like a fragile woman, sometimes like a lioness. Sometimes she makes love to me, sometimes I make love to her.
Every time it gets better. Every time I let her in further into my soul, I care less about her seeing the pleasure I experience from her touch, or I care less that she will be off put by the way I touch her. I've learned she likes it, too.
The right kiss in the right place.
The right pace of movements...
This time we were at a cozy hotel by the beach. Our friends would never suspect our actions, we were totally free.
22 January, 2015
Winter is Coming
“Winter is coming” my father says.
These words always bring a painful strain in my stomach.
These words mean that good times are over and bad times are coming.
They mean that from now on there will be scarcity and want, there will be pain and I will require patience and self restraint.
My father means that this is only one winter of many, that he has seen more than I have, and that I must learn from this one and from all that come after so that I can be strong.
These words mean that there will be less sun and less warmth and less enthusiasm, less food and less entertainment.
These words mean that a test on my character is coming, and what makes my stomach ache is being aware of it.
I prefer not to be aware, but it is impossible. If my father hadn’t spoken the words, someone else would have, to the same effect.
I guess I’ll move to the tropic.
D.
18 January, 2015
Girl Talk
‘That’s what it’s like, girl’ said a mother to her child.
‘You don’t need much help in looking beautiful until you turn forty or so. Don’t waste your time striving for it, you already have it. After that, age with grace. Us women have the privilege or curse of living physical decadence very closely, more than men who don’t lose shape over pregnancies and don’t really need good shape in order to reproduce.’
‘While you have beauty’ she continued, ‘strive to gain things you don’t have: skills. If you go the other way around you’ll be wasting time. You’d be looking for things you already have, and then things you can no longer get.’
D.
12 January, 2015
Kudos
People build up too many expectations around life.
It’s made of, what? Eight decades, tops? Then everybody gets all worked up about what you are going to do with it… I really don’t get it.
If I were to plan a great deed I’d need the first two decades to figure myself out, then another two to study everything that has been done in the past and what improvements I can make, how to be original and not just do something that someone else did exactly like me a couple of thousand years early. There goes four decades down the drain, only in preparation, you got half in front of you.
But then, that half has been possibly damaged by environmental factors, so you’ll lose between five to ten years to cigarettes, drugs, alcohol and stress. Which brings me again to the next half: generally, we fall in love. There goes four decades for you, between falling in love with your spouse and falling in love with your grandchildren.
Just a simple little life, that’s what you get in the end, no big plans, ‘cuz you didn't have time to see them through, that’s for the highly lucky, exceptionally talented or extremely well positioned people.
To you and me, kudos, we get life.
D.
02 January, 2014
Considerations on Lifestyle and Failure Part 2 (Women)
By D. Salazar
When you are little you want to live in a castle, with draperies and carpets and flowers, and lots of shiny toys and beautiful things. At that time there is nothing you can do to achieve those things, except through luck or ability to find hidden treasures. When you are older, a youth, you want a flat. A place where you can have friends over and they will all fit. At that time, you don’t have enough means to acquire it, but you have skills. Sometimes, they’re enough. When you grow even older, and you become a woman, you want a house, quiet and safe, comfortable, with enough space. At that point is where people tend to tell you that you shouldn't have stopped following your dreams, because that is the ultimate sign of becoming old for good, and there’s no turning back.
Then is when you freak out, when you seek loneliness, apartness, to discover which was that dream you should have never stopped following. That thing that is making you old: where is it?.
It is likely that you spend more than half of your waking time dreaming, while you do those mechanic things, like driving, or walking on well-trod ground. You dream.
Like humans, dreams evolve.
Some elements prevail. Fear, especially in waking nightmares, is very eloquent. Your mind sinks into autopilot, it wanders. It happens at every age.
Women who cover themselves completely when in public, act as an invitation of beauty. If a woman were, for example, deformed in such ways as to be shocking, she’d still act as an invitation of beauty. She stands tall, covered in a veil, wavy in the wind, alone in the street. An oasis. She is Woman, with no applicable variables. In absolute value. For the eyes of men, they are all alike, except those few he knows.
We all enjoy stereotypes. They make society easier, especially for those who don’t enjoy society too much. That way we hurt people, rather unfairly.
For women, many things depend on when they fall in love. The subconscious reasons that made us fall in love with a man. It can happen more than once, each time will be different. Generally, we can’t control it. It is a little like dreaming and having bad dreams. The subconscious factor is controlling.
Symbols are in charge of most of our perception, they affect our mood. They are different for everyone. Some are collective, to the point of creating a culture.
A man is a symbol for a woman, as much as a woman for a man. A man in absolute value, with no variables applicable. What is he? A tower? A shelter? A pet? A father? A teacher? A zoologist would say that human females evolved into their current role, because of child bearing and all its consequences on our symbolic baggage. In the beginning there was the house, the male hunter and the female. She had no job definition, she came with a tool kit for certain things that had to be done. That was the birth of society. For women, men were the suppliers. The meaning of the role of supplier is ever changing. Some women expect men to give them everything, to provide even for the most basic needs. Others expect good conversation. Since rather recently, historically speaking, women want good sex, the social equivalent to the animal’s attraction towards healthy males. Every need may fall into the supplier’s duty. If the male fails to supply (money, sex, comfort, company, etc.) it is cause for break up. Men generally are unaware of what women want. The solution is for women to find out, and for men, patiently aid to do so. Two heads think better than one.
The amount of drama we apply to our life, also depends on our symbols. Guilt has a big role to play, as does selfishness. The very language we use to build our thoughts, affects them. It seems sometimes like a matter of décor. Some women may be over controlling. That is a sign of a weak set of self bestowed values, a weak shield.
As long as male provide, women are soothed. Socially, we feel no pressure. We will not be questioned by an invisible social judge on the decisions our heart’s impulses made.
Pressure of any kind will smother any life form. Company sets us free, on a communicational level. The ability to share our perception is priceless on an evolutionary level.
When we don’t stereotype, we use symbols to give explanations to events or people. We mix them to create something else. Life fills us with symbols, daily. Some people call them signs, life telling them what is happening, or going to happen. Some use them as inspiration, they seek the bottom of them through they craft. The second one is wiser.
Sometimes, evolution feels too fast. Then, we can only trust. When symbols change suddenly, when our dreams seem to mutate far away from the original path, it is best to accept it. Our control over our own lives is very limited, though possible.
As human evolves, so does perspective, so do symbols. When our dreams change, we tend to look back. It’s healthy to do so. What we were was no more controllable that what we will become in the future. There is only the path we tread through time, the lines we draw in the universe.
When you are little you want to live in a castle, with draperies and carpets and flowers, and lots of shiny toys and beautiful things. At that time there is nothing you can do to achieve those things, except through luck or ability to find hidden treasures. When you are older, a youth, you want a flat. A place where you can have friends over and they will all fit. At that time, you don’t have enough means to acquire it, but you have skills. Sometimes, they’re enough. When you grow even older, and you become a woman, you want a house, quiet and safe, comfortable, with enough space. At that point is where people tend to tell you that you shouldn't have stopped following your dreams, because that is the ultimate sign of becoming old for good, and there’s no turning back.
Then is when you freak out, when you seek loneliness, apartness, to discover which was that dream you should have never stopped following. That thing that is making you old: where is it?.
It is likely that you spend more than half of your waking time dreaming, while you do those mechanic things, like driving, or walking on well-trod ground. You dream.
Like humans, dreams evolve.
Some elements prevail. Fear, especially in waking nightmares, is very eloquent. Your mind sinks into autopilot, it wanders. It happens at every age.
Women who cover themselves completely when in public, act as an invitation of beauty. If a woman were, for example, deformed in such ways as to be shocking, she’d still act as an invitation of beauty. She stands tall, covered in a veil, wavy in the wind, alone in the street. An oasis. She is Woman, with no applicable variables. In absolute value. For the eyes of men, they are all alike, except those few he knows.
We all enjoy stereotypes. They make society easier, especially for those who don’t enjoy society too much. That way we hurt people, rather unfairly.
For women, many things depend on when they fall in love. The subconscious reasons that made us fall in love with a man. It can happen more than once, each time will be different. Generally, we can’t control it. It is a little like dreaming and having bad dreams. The subconscious factor is controlling.
Symbols are in charge of most of our perception, they affect our mood. They are different for everyone. Some are collective, to the point of creating a culture.
A man is a symbol for a woman, as much as a woman for a man. A man in absolute value, with no variables applicable. What is he? A tower? A shelter? A pet? A father? A teacher? A zoologist would say that human females evolved into their current role, because of child bearing and all its consequences on our symbolic baggage. In the beginning there was the house, the male hunter and the female. She had no job definition, she came with a tool kit for certain things that had to be done. That was the birth of society. For women, men were the suppliers. The meaning of the role of supplier is ever changing. Some women expect men to give them everything, to provide even for the most basic needs. Others expect good conversation. Since rather recently, historically speaking, women want good sex, the social equivalent to the animal’s attraction towards healthy males. Every need may fall into the supplier’s duty. If the male fails to supply (money, sex, comfort, company, etc.) it is cause for break up. Men generally are unaware of what women want. The solution is for women to find out, and for men, patiently aid to do so. Two heads think better than one.
The amount of drama we apply to our life, also depends on our symbols. Guilt has a big role to play, as does selfishness. The very language we use to build our thoughts, affects them. It seems sometimes like a matter of décor. Some women may be over controlling. That is a sign of a weak set of self bestowed values, a weak shield.
As long as male provide, women are soothed. Socially, we feel no pressure. We will not be questioned by an invisible social judge on the decisions our heart’s impulses made.
Pressure of any kind will smother any life form. Company sets us free, on a communicational level. The ability to share our perception is priceless on an evolutionary level.
When we don’t stereotype, we use symbols to give explanations to events or people. We mix them to create something else. Life fills us with symbols, daily. Some people call them signs, life telling them what is happening, or going to happen. Some use them as inspiration, they seek the bottom of them through they craft. The second one is wiser.
Sometimes, evolution feels too fast. Then, we can only trust. When symbols change suddenly, when our dreams seem to mutate far away from the original path, it is best to accept it. Our control over our own lives is very limited, though possible.
As human evolves, so does perspective, so do symbols. When our dreams change, we tend to look back. It’s healthy to do so. What we were was no more controllable that what we will become in the future. There is only the path we tread through time, the lines we draw in the universe.
The Powerful Will
By D. Salazar
I read online that feeling suicidal comes from the existing relation between pain and the ability to cope with pain. If you put both in a scale, and the amount of pain surpasses the ability to cope with it, your system may shut down, causing a suicide.
Suicides start in your head.
I’m not suicidal, I’m merely dramatic and unemployed.
Nevertheless, when thoughts of emptiness and visual representations of drastic suicidal techniques appear in my head –generally while I’m getting myself from one place to another- I do tend to desire a shut down. It may be in the form of sleep or a very long vacation. It may not be death but it does require a solitude that comes close to it. Social death, complete disappearance… and then I picture myself requesting it to someone, “at least for a while, may I please? It’s only a short death!”
A number of images cross my head, Orhan Pamuk’s The New Life, Hermes, Hermetics, Morality, the Network, Catholicism, life after death, Eternity; then they transform into a blurry headache and a stomach ache.
When thoughts turn into aching, you are clearly worrying too much.
The truth is that you are going to die. You don’t realize it yet, because you’ve never been in a position to do so. Since you will inevitably die, you may do one of several things: i) despair, ii) have fun, iii) do something useful for humanity, iv) devote to children, v) search glory, vi) play golf…
There are two things that one must understand, first, that whatever you choose is fine as long as it’s fine with you, and second, that no one said you have to choose now.
I feel like I’ve been choosing what I have to do with my life since the age I could walk, but my decisions change rapidly, so I can’t really cling on to any of them. I’ve grown used to not caring about them and only go with the flow.
When I feel suicidal, I generally feel I’ve lost my flow.
My ability to cope with pain has leveled. I feel that, to increase it, I must find a purpose, it’s the one thing that seems logical, but not make it “save the world” or “cure cancer” or “devoid the world from all demons”, no, something for mortals. I thought that maybe I could just make something beautiful.
I thought about all this during a bus trip. I focused on the image of beauty, pure beauty. The image that each of us finds in unique.
I pictured that something beautiful had to begin with a falling spiral.
The image may be different now, but it is still perfect.
This little mental token started to clear away some of the clammy headache I was feeling. Now I could concern my head with more practical things than Hermetics and Morality. I wanted to find a way to bring it to life, to make it exist in the physical world.
So, humbly, wrote this article.
(It works)
I read online that feeling suicidal comes from the existing relation between pain and the ability to cope with pain. If you put both in a scale, and the amount of pain surpasses the ability to cope with it, your system may shut down, causing a suicide.
Suicides start in your head.
I’m not suicidal, I’m merely dramatic and unemployed.
Nevertheless, when thoughts of emptiness and visual representations of drastic suicidal techniques appear in my head –generally while I’m getting myself from one place to another- I do tend to desire a shut down. It may be in the form of sleep or a very long vacation. It may not be death but it does require a solitude that comes close to it. Social death, complete disappearance… and then I picture myself requesting it to someone, “at least for a while, may I please? It’s only a short death!”
A number of images cross my head, Orhan Pamuk’s The New Life, Hermes, Hermetics, Morality, the Network, Catholicism, life after death, Eternity; then they transform into a blurry headache and a stomach ache.
When thoughts turn into aching, you are clearly worrying too much.
The truth is that you are going to die. You don’t realize it yet, because you’ve never been in a position to do so. Since you will inevitably die, you may do one of several things: i) despair, ii) have fun, iii) do something useful for humanity, iv) devote to children, v) search glory, vi) play golf…
There are two things that one must understand, first, that whatever you choose is fine as long as it’s fine with you, and second, that no one said you have to choose now.
I feel like I’ve been choosing what I have to do with my life since the age I could walk, but my decisions change rapidly, so I can’t really cling on to any of them. I’ve grown used to not caring about them and only go with the flow.
When I feel suicidal, I generally feel I’ve lost my flow.
My ability to cope with pain has leveled. I feel that, to increase it, I must find a purpose, it’s the one thing that seems logical, but not make it “save the world” or “cure cancer” or “devoid the world from all demons”, no, something for mortals. I thought that maybe I could just make something beautiful.
I thought about all this during a bus trip. I focused on the image of beauty, pure beauty. The image that each of us finds in unique.
I pictured that something beautiful had to begin with a falling spiral.
The image may be different now, but it is still perfect.
This little mental token started to clear away some of the clammy headache I was feeling. Now I could concern my head with more practical things than Hermetics and Morality. I wanted to find a way to bring it to life, to make it exist in the physical world.
So, humbly, wrote this article.
(It works)
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