Love and Marriage – The Real Deal

So if you follow my blog regularly you may remember my interesting take on Love and Marriage not too long ago. Things just got a little more interesting in my world on that page…

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He went to my favorite place, the place most of the photos on this blog are taken. I love him with all my heart.

Oh, also, like I didn’t already know I hit the jackpot, this guy has been hiding homemade blueberry pancake making skills. I am so lucky (my niece agrees)!

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Talk About Sad…

Let’s just pretend I didn’t already post something today…

I hate being overly emotional about things (that whole ‘eh, she’s a woman, she cries a lot’ thing really grinds my gears), but this is legitimately the saddest thing I’ve seen all week, and there’s a lot of sad things going on right now (have you registered to vote?)

I wish I knew a realistic way to help, that actually helped animals in need/their environment and not the CEOs at the programs claiming to help them.

Broadway, Band, and the Importance of Music

Last night I stood outside a middle school gym and listened to the nostalgic sounds of excited snare drums and nervous woodwinds, my boyfriend and I supporting friend’s of ours’ child that was in the band.

As I watched the small-town band kick the hell out of a nice Proud Mary rendition I was flooded with my own band memories, too often forgetting the 8 years of my own life spent in marching, concert, and pep band. Hell, I even did winter flag twirling one year. Yeah, I was into it all, and yeah, I can still tell you horrible ‘This one time at band camp’ stories.

I could hear the lone clarinet belting out her notes and could feel my fingers moving in tune with her pitches…my body physically missed playing an instrument.

Thinking about this today reminded me of my last conference in Orlando (SYTA, Student Youth Travel Association). During one of the lunches, we were surprised with a live broadway performance, about 2 hours filled with 5 to 10-minute snippets from the latest and greatest in New York at the time. We saw School of Rock, The Color Purple, Kinky Boots, The Book of Mormon, and so much more.

I was floored. I didn’t even think I would like Broadway, yet there I was, crying like a baby at how beautiful it was. The passion put into the songs, the raw talent in their voices, the plain damn beauty in the music they were bringing to us was, well, emotional to say the least.

I have neglected music in my life recently, my only saving graces being my regular jam-out sessions with the Red Hot Chili Peppers and finding new funky indie rap beats to listen to while working.

I’m itching for a piano or clarinet….

Enjoy these Throwback Thursday photos of my lunch in Orlando, I still get the chills thinking about the Lion King and Kinky Boots.

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Leaf Porn – Grandma’s Pride

It’s like I get a hard-on for any scene with stray leaves….forgive my fall-centric fantasies, but rainy days and fallen orange leaves really get me going (more like get my camera going).

Though these are both (I included both versions because I can’t decide which color scheme I like better) rather simple, I had a strong sense of empowerment taking them.

Not because, as I mentioned above, I happen to love dreary fall scenery, but because I, in this day and age, have the ability to use new technology and capture beautiful moments in life. Think about it, photography is an obscure passion, and I got lucky enough to exist in the time in which I could pursue this passion, aimlessly follow the wind (sometimes literally) and snap photos as I please. My grandmother would be proud and jealous, she loved beautiful things.

Eh, not to make it weird with the Grandma reference, but how about my latest photography idea: Leaf Porn? Or something clever like that, something for sick twisted fall lovers like me…

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Love and Marriage

All Rights Reserved D.R Breshears – Another small snip from a novel I’m drumming up, enjoy (or don’t)! Feedback always welcome.


Little girls growing up always dream about their wedding day, taking precious time to play pretend with their dolls or their siblings, or even their friends, in order to feel a little closer to that big, sparkling, magical day.

It’s a bit fucked up, she thought looking back at it now, that such little girls make such big plans with their love lives, yet they forget that they will need to fall in love first.

At times it seemed like marriages and engagements were more important to society than the simple statement of falling in love in the first place.

Wasn’t it enough to fall painfully in love with a stranger, to intertwine your souls and lives together and make that instant connection that unites you both and ultimately changes your life, whether physically or emotionally, forever? No, not in our culture, in our culture, you need to plan a grand formal social event starting at age 5 and continue to make mental plans until your mid-twenties to ensure that you proclaim your love grandly enough that it lasts the first 5-year divorce hump.

However, bitterness about society and our questionable life choices aside, Lorna had done the same thing, all girls did.

When she was 8 years old her sister and she married their Beanie Babies, Teena, and Roofus. Her tan dog wasn’t particularly fond of her sister’s scraggly white cat, the fur clumped up and the attitude around it completely wrong for Roofus, but she was thrilled to have a ceremony and make twig and vine rings for the dolls. In lieu of extravagant rice-throwing gestures for send off they filled a large cardboard box with water, simply to fill it with flowers (dandelions) and watch it swell and then burst at the seams.

It was all a bit odd, the whole stuffed-animal ceremony and cardboard box destruction, but in their heads, in was normal and beautiful and something that, if they were lucky, they would get to do someday themselves (maybe minus the dandelion-filled box).

That naive and unrelenting desire to be married, to have a grand gesture from someone she loved, a public admittance of ‘I love you’, never went away in the back of Lorna’s head growing up, no matter how hard her societal pessimism tried.

She often times found herself planning the seating arrangement for a small ceremony at her favorite outdoor spots, taking the time to look at the area and decide where the chairs would sit, where the two of them would stand if there was room for a small reception there afterward…even without the slightest hint of an interested man in her life at the time.

It was disgusting how bad she really wanted it.

When she met James, something inside changed. She didn’t just want that stupid, overpriced, over-photographed ‘I love you’ declaration. She needed it.

She needed the world to know that she found James, that her soul was complete, that he loved her so much that he would marry her in front of a crowd of people. She needed to feel a heavy metallic reminder of his commitment, to know that it was different with him, that they were different together. Marriage wasn’t just a childish wish she dreamt of coming true anymore, it was a necessary event for her soul and for his. She knew he felt the same way.

It wasn’t as simple outwardly as she was making it sound, though.

The thing was, Lorna loved attention, she always had. Lorna loved to love, as well. Getting married, though he was absolutely the right person and it was absolutely was the right time, was a difficult thing to commit to for her, overall.

No longer could she wonder what her ex would do if he got his act together and realized he was missing out on someone really special. No longer could she stare at the stranger in Wal-Mart and undress him with her eyes until he undressed her in the bathroom. No longer could she make that one who got away jealous at the bar on Saturday night with her new lowest-cut addition to her wardrobe.

She thought about those nights when they were first together when she fell in love with several different guys and allowed them all into her lives, if not just for the night. She had never felt bad, she and James weren’t serious yet and she liked to keep her options open, to not leave any stone unturned.

She was happy, God she was happy, but she was also uncertain. She didn’t like finality in things, so to say goodbye to all the world’s possibilities of lovers seemed, well, absurd really. Think about it, there are over 7.4 billion people on this earth alone. If you split that in half (even though statistically she always found that women represented a higher population than men), that left 3.7 billion men she could possibly love, possibly be loved by.

Fall, Already.

Photo Entitled: Fall, Already

I’m testing out a new watermark!

Still searching for that perfect photography project to fill my time, something a bit beyond just sharing on my blog (though don’t let me fool you, I love filling my blog with beautiful photos for others to see).

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Let’s Write About Sex, Baby.

Flash Fiction Friday? I think yes. Light up a cigarette and enjoy. 


The sex before and after the event was much different.

Before he was always a more aggressive lover, to say the least, but that was the way she liked it.

They would have sex at least every other day, sometimes twice a day, sometimes three times a day. They had the things they both liked but would get a little more adventurous at least once a week, it seemed. Nothing really ever seemed to be too far for her, and nothing ever seemed to be unappealing to him.

The sex was never insane, though.

She had been with a couple guys who had made her evenings interesting, to say the least. Once she was with a guy who had a fetish for sticking anything that wasn’t attached to himself up his girlfriends, well, you know. She didn’t quite walk right for a week, but she didn’t hate it. She just didn’t feel comfortable with that every night.

She definitely felt comfortable with him every night, though, it never got that far or that weird.

She remembered her favorite time with him so far, that afternoon when they both played hooky from work after lunch and went to a bar on the edge of the state. It’s not like they cared so much that they would be caught, it was just more fun to pretend you’re doing something wrong sometimes. Luckily the edge of the state was only an hour away, and the city in question was dead mid-day on a Wednesday.

She remembered that she had dressed up that day, a summer dress showing her glistening tan long legs and her lipstick matching her earrings.He looked gruff and smelled like oil, mechanic shop musk, and she couldn’t quite keep her hands off of his arm or leg or knee during the ride to the bar.

He pulled out her seat at the bar, ordered two heavy drinks, and sat down promptly with his hand in between her dress, underneath the table but not hidden at the same time. She felt oddly turned on by the simple forceful act, and she couldn’t help but part her lips slightly to let an almost silent moan escape when he started exploring underneath her favorite cotton panties, as he took what he clearly thought was his, not caring who was around.

There weren’t very many people around, one nosy older gentleman in the booth to their right and the younger male bartender who pretended to wash the same glass three times in a row.

She could tell they both were watching from the corners of their eyes, and she never felt more turned on.

He watched her closely as she climaxed, he took his time and listened to her breathing toward the end. He lit a cigarette, took a puff, handed it to her, and asked the bartender for a shot.

She blushed as the bartender sat down two in front of her, one in front of him, with a smile on his face.

They left after the shots, him with a clear erection the entire walk out, and never made it out of the parking lot.

It was only 5pm and the traffic was bad. It was glaringly bright outside, and their car didn’t have much room to hide anything.

The bartender took the trash out twice before they were done.

She came three times before the afternoon was over.

 

The sex after, however, was much different.

He still took what he want, but he didn’t pay attention to her breathing anymore, he didn’t carefully help her climax.

Again, she was okay with this, that’s how she normally liked it.

It was hard, though, going from sex that seemed to be everything you could want, to sex that you were used to your whole life.

Cloud Cover

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I wasn’t planning on posting photography today, and I also wasn’t planning on editing so heavily.

This morning’s cloud cover was gorgeous, though, and it’s an oddly comforting juxtaposition to the cloud cover in my brain lately.