Open Up (Part 12)

Hello, everyone. It's been a time since I uploaded here. How are you all doing? Swell, one would hope. Let's keep on trucking on. Here's another lil snippet from a series I never thought I'd really continue: 

Have a little read of part 11 if you do so wish to reacquaint yourself, or from the beginning, here. 

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She closed her laptop. If Damian was going to be like this, so would she. Distractions were definitely needed.

Hey! What you up to? came the reply from Callum.

Would a photo be a bit too much? Nothing... overboard. Just, she didn't really know what to say. She had her face to do the talking for her. 

She was probably overthinking this. They had spoken before a couple of times. Mostly about random stuff. But, he seemed interested. That was all she wanted right now. Just a little attention. Something to help her ego after Damian's dismissal. Plus, they'd met once before, briefly, at a gig together. She assumed he wasn't a creep. And he lived close enough. He wasn't too much older than her. Seemed friendly enough. No harm in just hanging out and seeing where things led. 

Celia tried a few poses, a little bit of leg, something sitting down, back arched? Maybe lying on her bed? Her heart wasn't truly in it, though.

She sent a picture. On her bed, hair up, a little head tilt. With the message: 'nothing exciting, yourself?'. The lava lamp glowing steadily in the background. Celia had mentioned the uses of the lava lamp before, in a brief conversation. Surely it'd be able to provoke something. The response was quick. 

Nothing, is it? Lots of potential for fun, then? I could be doing nothing, too, right now...

She smiled. Of course, her message had worked.  

Tapping out another message to him, she got her car keys and jacket, whilst looking for a pair of trainers to drive in. 

She could do with a little bit of nothing.  

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Read part 13 here.

Open Up (Part 11)

Read part 10 here, or from the beginning, here. 

Damian was staring at the screen thinking of a suitable way to answer her.

He had never been in the army. 

It wasn't even particularly a dream of his. He actually considered himself a pacifist. Damian hadn't known why he'd gone with the army thing. But he had. And now he was stuck in the weird tales he had started weaving. To the extent of having to send messages in the early hours of the morning to account for the time differences of the make-believe locations he was stationed at. The lies about his physique. The lies about his cock. Yet, they just kept tumbling out. But Celia had wanted to speak to him. They'd had a chance to talk. He'd listened to her rants. They had long phone calls about nothing. When she had trusted him with her name he had felt special. And both of them had enjoyed sharing one another's music tastes. 

Long ago, that's all it had ever been about. The music. A college band was started with two friends of his. They never got very far with it. But it was enough to make him miss it. Called themselves Mango Hangover. He had been the drummer. 

Those days were but distant memories for him. Now, he was a substitute teacher. Picking up some editing work on the side. He worked mainly in technical colleges. There were never many females around. The company of Celia was different to the others anyway. He kept her wanting more, knew that she would easily give up if he let himself be available to her constantly. She was a needy thing. He needed her, too. Just for different reasons. 

He began typing. Delete. Delete. Delete.

The music he was listening to wasn't right. He pushed away from his computer desk and strode towards the bed. He flicked through a pile of CDs that balanced forlornly on the bedside cabinet. There was always the record player, he thought. But he hadn't made much of an effort to replace the dust cover and he couldn't bring himself to clean anything. 

Damian went back to his computer. Going to YouTube, he decided on Christmas music. It was December fifth, after all. Chris de Burgh's A Spaceman Came Travelling played.

He started typing once again. 

Damian86: We should meet up.
Damian86: I have a present for you. 

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Read part 12 here.

Open Up (Part 10)

More of this. If you've been following and feel the need to catch-up, read part 9 here. Or, from the beginning, here. 

Big boning bonanza was still playing as Celia made her way back to her room. There was nothing particularly sexy about what was playing - Never Comes The Day by the Moody Blues - but that entire album did hold some special memories. 

She had left her laptop open on the bed. The light from the screen was the only thing illuminating the room other than her lava lamp. She'd had the lamp since she was seven. Her sister had received the same one but in bright green for Christmas. They'd opened them at the same time and immediately went to plug them in. Turns out they take a long time to actually do the blobby-fun-thing. Both of them had been a little disappointed. Although, after, when they had allowed them to warm up sufficiently, they'd been enchanted by the slow undulations of colour. So, it now stood proudly on her desk, its purple blobs casting weird shadows upon the single bed that occupied most of the space in the tiny room. 

It was a shame that her bedroom had become her workspace. There was a time when she felt safe surrounded by all her trinkets. The photos blu-tacked onto her wardrobe, the silly little lights she had placed around her curtain rails, the multiple cushions in which she had made a nest. Those things that she had taken time over to decorate her space now seemed kinda... sullied.

The photos of family and friends staring at her. The pillows which were now used to prop her up offered all the angles and opportunities to hump. Celia sighed. Even the lava lamp had not come out unscathed. 

Not that the pillows hadn't suffered enough at her own sweet expense. It was just that now she felt she was always performing. The omnipresent beady eye of the webcam had made it. Different. If her moans weren't loud enough or long enough or if her body wasn't contorted at just the right angle she felt like she was doing something wrong. It was frustrating. Particularly when she was never getting off on the job anyway. 

Celia opened the site. Damian still hadn't messaged. Her legs bounced. Instead, she typed out a message to the Instagram guy. There were always other options. 

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Read part 11 here.

Open Up (Part 3)

Read from the beginning here, or catch up with the previous part here.


For all the pet names she had received over the months, it was still "baby" and its derivatives that irked her the most.

Not like she would ever use her real name on the site. She laughed. Celia wouldn't quite cut it in that realm.

So she went by sexycici95 because she had one - lacked imagination - and secondly...
Well, she had always thought it wouldn't really matter. In her heart, this wasn't a thing she would ever do for long.

Except now, two and a bit years later.

There had never been the right time to quit. When she had planned to leave the first time, her cat had received a nasty scratch to the face, which in turn got infected... the worry of paying the vet's bill had stopped her trying to quit. It was too difficult to leave it all behind in search of what (a few of) her friends would describe as a "real job". The second time she had found herself too... ensconced by one of her customers. They let her rant. There was never a time when they were not willing to help out, and she had relied on their kindness for a bit.

It had not ended in the way she would have liked.

Damian86 had been one of the army guys. That was the yarn that was spun. She didn't really care, in all honesty. Introductions for the most part felt very same-y. Despite knowing the good from the bad pretty much straight off the bat, she could only really start to weed out the bad from the particularly bad once they'd conversed a bit more. And that part was always the dullest. Trying to get to the pay whilst also coming across as the cool, aloof, fun, cute, sexy, interested, sassy, beautiful, educated girl. Everything and anything that person wants. So long as they pay the price, right?

Damian86 hadn't immediately been different. He had entered her room with a very standard greeting. Had a premium enough membership which allowed him to discuss further in a private chat.

However. It had turned out he wanted some music recommendations.

She had smiled to herself. Now, that she could do. 

Things had only progressed from there.

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Read part 4 here. 

Open Up (Part 1)

Another message popped up. Another customer.

blur23: I want to fuck a pumpkin on Skype for you. How much to just watch?

She clicked off the conversation tab.

Perhaps, way back, she would have been shocked at such a statement. That was before. Now, it was just another random message to add to the barrage of weird or fucked-up things she read on an almost daily basis. She wasn't about to kink-shame now. Everyone had their own... thing. Hers wasn't watching pumpkins.

Plus, Halloween had already been. Maybe that was the only thing left to do with the pumpkin, she mused.

Another message.

Bone1000: hey gorgeus

Hey you. She replied. One of the regulars. She waited until the response about a show would come. That she could handle.

Sometimes, it wasn't all bad. Sometimes she just kept people company. They kept her company, too. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. There was always an abundance of compliments.

"mmmmmmm sexy"
"so cute!"
"love your tits, sweetie"
"making me hard bby girl"
 "you're so much different to the rest of the models".

And such.

Early on she had found herself grouping the types of men (and the odd woman) that visited her room. It was somewhat easy to recognise the categories. The ones who wanted to shock. The ones who needed the release. The ones who needed the company. Someone who would listen to them. Anyone. Even if it was just a cam girl. A lot of the people were lonely on the site, she had come to find.

She was one of the lonely people, too.

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This was something that's been lurking in my drafts for a while, now. I reckoned it was time to release it into the wild. Hope you enjoyed. Maybe I'll write some new stuff in these weird times. But, maybe not, too.

Stay safe and try not to overthink things now wonderful people x

Read part 2 here.

On Not Going to Plan

There was a time where I had the idea of posting monthly on this here blog - and it worked - for a while, anyway. But, well, sometimes things don't go to plan. You'll notice I haven't been around since the August. I truly don't believe it's November, where did the time go?

Many things have happened between then and now.

Lots which I shall not speak of, but also many wonderful things too.

I went back to Poland, and had a fabulous/messy time, involving very late nights and places that looked a little crack-den like.

Wrocław was very pretty and did not disappoint. Things didn't go quite to plan... but it was definitely a fun time.

Then of course it was back to France to enjoy the autumn session. Lots of emotions were felt. Goblins returned. It was an interesting time, even if things didn't always go to plan... ( like, if there were multiple fire drills, or kids having to go to the hospital, or wasp stings... or power cuts)

                                   

And since I have returned home, I have enjoyed spending time with my wonderful friends and catching up with camp pals where possible.

However, it's really nice to be on my own bed right now. At least, until New Zealand in a few weeks time... 

Should prepare for that, I guess. 

Hope that any of you who do read this are leading lovely lives and I'll make an effort to update y'all on my travels. 

I also figure if you don't have too much of a plan it can't go wrong. 

We Like to Play Hard & Stick to the Schedule

My time working as an English teacher at a summer school in Cambridge came to an end on Sunday.

The last six weeks provided some rather unique challenges, which included such delights as:

• Preventing children from eating poisonous berries (and sort of failing).
• A 9 year old with a sugar addiction and a propensity for acquiring debt.
• Getting students to come out of their rooms during a fire drill (and failing).
• Chickenpox. A fair amount of chickenpox. Too much chickenpox.
• Identifying the source of a very pungent smell located somewhere in a girl's room.
• Guarding a broken automatic door at midnight to ensure no randoms walked into the building.
• Some intriguing comments from colleagues.
• Noodle hour.
• Students masturbating wherever they deemed fit. Like, in class. 

Yet, despite these things. It was a good time, a great time. A rewarding experience for sure. I was lucky to teach some amazing students and meet some great people over the summer.. There were some excellent performances (see Shakespeare Enters) and also many moments of joy throughout the course. It helped that I worked with some lovely people.

"We know we have a great team, we know we have a lot to learn but still we keep playing"... 

Here's to keeping on playing (but sticking to the schedule).

Ugly Enough To Be Rather Attractive

It would seem like the whole notion of dating and messaging people on specifically-designed apps has always been an interest of mine...

Hence why I have stumbled across such a video on YouTube that shares the results of a rather intriguing study conducted by one of these types of sites (but has since been deleted).

Although I shall try to explain briefly the workings of the study, it'll be far better if you watched the video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLNwa_hoz4w

Essentially, people who are observed as having a generally lower score of average 'attractiveness' (this was a 1-5 rating scale) created a polarized effect - in that they would also score as being (a fair amount) hotter for a statistically significant group of people.

Thus, if your face causes an amount of debate or controversy as to your supposed attractiveness, you're more like to have some people think you're REALLY attractive, or REALLY ugly. But if you're just a generic kinda cute, then they'll be fewer people trying to hook up with you. "Men who think you're hot will add to your message count, but men who think you're cute will subtract from your message count".

A point to take away from this, I thought: "If someone doesn't think you're hot, the next best thing for them to think is that you're ugly".

So...

What to make of the findings? Well, basically, it is thought that men may feel this way as they assume they do not have a lot of competition with women who may attract these varying (largely polarized) opinions. They may assume "Hmmm, maybe she's lonely, or maybe she is just waiting to find a guy who appreciates her..." and so they shoot their shot. Whereas, the generically attractive 'cute' girl may find herself without an abundance of dates or potential suitors based purely on the fact other guys are assuming she's already receiving a whole bunch of attention.

Anyway, a lot of this has come about because I have shared a fair amount recently about my dissertation with my colleagues (to be read here, if interested) to the point that I've found myself exploring even more of the realm of all that is online relationship and vaguely SWB - perhaps it's time to delve deeper into the different categories, or even an update to my previous research.

Of course, it's always worth  questioning the validity of these studies (y'know, like, attractiveness as a measure, for instance, but I find them pretty fun to read nevertheless)

Hope this has been enlightening.

Leave comments if you so wish.

x

North Wales

Everything you could have wanted from Wales was delivered in one beautiful weekend. There was delicious food, a gorgeous middle-of-nowhere cottage, verdant countryside, an abundance of sheep, and inevitably - when the rest of the UK were basking in sunshine-  a whole load of rain. It was a perfect time to experience Bounce Below, a truly delightful cavern experience, and the fastest zipline in the entirety of Europe.

It was also particularly lovely when visiting the village of Portmeirion (which was utterly cute, and I totally recommend, regardless of weather... and when you can just walk in for free, well... even better) 

 

Here are some photos that document the experience:

On Feminism and Language

Again, this is a post for me to say: I have nothing new for you (or rather, there were many topics I was thinking of breaching, and yet - be it the Eurovision boycott, the horrendous new Alabama state laws on abortion - or even the news of Grumpy Cat's death. At the heart of it, I just couldn't bring myself to face these topics).

Thus, I present to you a blog which I follow and for those interested in all things linguistic, could perhaps learn from and enjoy: https://debuk.wordpress.com/

It's from the delightful Debbie Cameron, a fabulous linguist and feminist. If you so wished, you can also find her on Twitter at @wordspinster

Peaking Too Early

I've just returned from yet another stint in France - but I shall save you all the time of recounting this recent camp experience (there's only so much goblin stories one can take, I understand). Instead I'd like to broach a subject that came up whilst having a chat with my colleagues.

The idea of having 'peaked too early' in life.

I mentioned the fact that I felt that at the ripe age of 17 - I had encountered the best year of my life.

Not that my recent years haven't come up to scratch - they're certainly filled with even more than I could have dreamt of when I were but a youngster, taking her first steps into the world of travel and other good stuff.

But everything had a certain freshness to it.

This is not me just being reminiscent of the halcyon days of youth - I distinctly recall acknowledging and being very aware at the time that I was living a pretty good life (in fact, I felt so touched by Sylvia Plath's writing on the subject* that I was inspired to write a piece on it back then, which shall be forgotten to those long lost tumblr posts of mine...). So it's not just nostalgia tinging my past with sweet memories.

I had the absolute best of times. And none of the responsibility that came with the bad times. I was living a very good life with very good people, experiencing very good things. Everything since has been tinged with the guilt of adulthood and other menial, sad shit.

I'm just lucky that I've continued to appreciate the good moments, even if they're not quite on the ranking of the 17th year... (although they are at least on par).

Yet, here's to even better times.




(P.S. feel free to let me know the ranking of your years, much love to everyone) xoxo


*“Somehow I have to keep and hold the rapture of being 17. Every day is so precious I feel infinitely sad at the thought of all this time melting father and farther away from me as I grow older. Now, now is the perfect time of my life.” - Sylvia Plath. 

Copenhagen

Celebrating 6 years of even more good times with Ethan.

We went ahead and took part in our favourite activities - art galleries, people watching and finding the best food.

With our Copenhagen card (which was very useful) we visited the ARKEN Museum of Modern Art where we enjoyed some of Van Gogh's work and life. Plus, a trip to the Kunsthal Charlottenborg was a fun (and enlightening) experience. The SMK - National Gallery of Denmark was however a true delight. Particularly the work of Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen and her Family Sha la la choreography (which can be found on YouTube).

Further to our enjoyment of the many art galleries, we went to the National Museum and learnt about Danish society and how it's evolved throughout history (lots about Vikings, too, which was pretty cool). We also visited the Round Tower and the Christiansborg Royal Stables.

Food-wise - an evening tasting menu at Høst was full of tasty morsels and the wine-pairing (which included a fine Japanese beer) was bloody good. A visit to the food halls is also recommended, although you'll be stuck for a place to sit around lunch time.


There was a lot packed into our little trip.

Friendly people, beautiful country, beautiful food, beautiful company.

On Poisoning Your Spouse

It's been an odd couple of weeks (although months, now, really), my Nan (on my Father's side) was admitted to hospital after a fall, and is now in residential care due to her being completely bat-shit crazy (and not at all well).

So there's been that.

This is something we had sort-of been prepared for given her declining state.

What I hadn't been prepared for was encountering the woman who has lived opposite my Nan for essentially all of the time I've been on this earth (but also for the many of years preceding that, you see, she knew my father as a little boy, and he's not exactly young).

 Today I (truly) got to meet her and learn about... well. A LOT.

Let's start with the facts. Just so you can truly get the image of this incredibly... vibrant woman. She is an elderly lady, a smoker (and asthmatic) who lives in a small town in Essex, born in the East End of London, who was sent into care at a young age, along with her older sister, after both her parents contracted tuberculosis. There were many beatings in this care home. She also grew up Catholic. She had a son who was schizophrenic, who died fifteen years ago.

She also tried (on multiple occasions) to kill her husband.

He's dead, now. Not as a result of her. But, still (the image of her blessing the father, the son, and the holy spirit then immediately exclaiming "you bastard" shall remain in my heart for a long time now).

He used to hit her. And he used to ask for a lot of things she wasn't able to give ("It was only six weeks after the birth of the little ones and he was trying to... I had stitches everywhere, so...")

So. She decided to visit the chemists. She decided to purchase some, let's just say, items which wouldn't allow a whole lot of action after use. And she put it in his curry ("curry is good for hiding that sorta thing, y'know").

 I didn't know. But I do now.

By her own words, it was three months after the incident that things were truly able to function again (she also repeated her motions of blessing at this point).

And there are other tales. Really quite gruesome tales. However, if I could convince her to write her own book then I believe hearing it from the horse's mouth would be far more entertaining. Also, of course, I would much prefer to be able to recount her own version fully. She definitely has a way with words.

It was certainly an interesting day today.

Colour Me In: Part 2

Read Part 1 here. Honestly, I didn't even remember what I had written. So, I imagine you'll have to give it a glance over to reacquaint yourself...

Growing up, I had heard the story of how my parents had met a thousand different times. All of them varying just slightly. As stories do. Some details changing, embellished, forgotten. But the main plot remained the same.

My Mum was eighteen and my Dad was twenty-six. A difference in age, but one that was met with my mother's maturity and my father's proclivity for enjoying practical jokes. They were both at a health and safety course, or at least "before health and safety went mad" as my father so eloquently put it.

The course began with the usual setup - how it would run, what was expected of those who undertook it - the whole shebang. My father had thought the whole thing... dull. I guess. So he decided to fake his own death in one of the scenarios the tutor set-up. Everyone else (understandably) thought he was a complete twat. My mother? Well, she found it hilarious. Thus, me, and my older siblings were brought into this world.

There's three of us. Marianne, she's 20. Then Alex at 16. Then there's me, Rita, at 10. They seemed to like to space things out, my parents. There were never any firm decisions for them. Some of the lucky ones, as they put it. But I didn't really see it that way.

Paris 2.0

Unlike last year, (coincidentally, around the same time) where I booked only the day before to visit Paris, this time I gave myself an entire two days.

But I had sort of planned this time, I guess. It was more about visiting people (or one particular person) than the place.

Together we saw Bohemian Rhapsody (I cried), with an abundance of popcorn, and enjoyed a kebab and Thai food. Mostly we chilled, for they were recovering from surgery. It's pretty funny watching anybody high on pain medication. 

So that was good.

I finally saw the Eiffel Tower. Somehow, on all my previous visits to the city, I'd never quite made it. It was... okay. Not that it isn't a pretty interesting piece of architecture, but the crowds and the overwhelming amount of insistent folk trying to get you to buy random crap sort of took away from the whole thing. But, overall, I'm happy I went. At last. 

It was a thoroughly enjoyable time.  

Whistler, Canada

This trip was planned only a few days in advance, and occurred over a phone call me and Ethan had whilst I was still working in France. Ethan needed to race bikes. So, I said I'd accompany. Gladly.

Our journey to Canada started with an incredible (over) two hour delay at Gatwick airport. Which subsequently meant we missed our connecting flight to Vancouver.

But the night we spent in Toronto was certainly not a terrible thing (and, actually, turned out to be a small miracle given a slight mixup in our booking of accomodation and such... but yes, I won't go into that).

We eventually got to Vancouver airport, where we met our transfer, a very enthusiastic fellow, who spoke to us about the Queen and other commonwealth related affairs. The good ol' British Empire, eh.

Our drive to Whistler was not disappointing. Travelling on the highway looking towards the islands was super pretty, and even though we were jet lagged and travel-weary, the views more than made up for it (and also despite travelling past such dubious names as Furry Creek).

More than 24 hours later from the beginning of our journey, we made it to Whistler, Canada.

We were staying at Whistler Creekside, which is an incredible little place full of friendly people and cute shops, with plenty of the lakes and trails all on the doorstep. Our Airbnb was named the Marmots Den. It was very apt. We loved our little den. Although the choice of art was perhaps... questionable.

Ethan went and did what Ethan had to do in order to shred the gnar (or whatever terminology you're supposed to write here to talk about such things).

But for me, there was laying by the lake, tanning and reading my book, hiking the trails, and cooking in our den. And when we were together, there was canoeing, cable car rides, swimming, visiting waterfalls, the consumption of BBQ and (vast quantities of) maple syrup. We really were leading our best lives.

I've spoke about many of the places I've visited as being beautiful. But honestly, the scenery and the views that I witnessed whilst in Canada have changed me. It is beyond incredible.

I can't wait to return.