#but i imagine id start swinging without inhibition

[ohfairandflightylove]

if i went to a destruction room i think id start by breaking a ton of glass and end by ugly sobbing and try to piece the fragments back together

[thedreamingdilettante]

Fickle Creativity

Creativity can be a fickle friend. Just when you believe you have a hold on it, found your rhythm you can find yourself on the dance floor suddenly listening to swing music without a partner.

If you have been following me for a bit you know that I have found my love for rhythm offsets my disdain for routine. Rhythm keeps us balanced, keeps life moving forward with things like clean underwear and groceries. Rhythm allows for things to happen in such a way that they support us but don’t stifle where we are in any given moment. Rhythm means I have things that happen daily but I am open minded about when they happen during the course of the day.

Regardless of where you are in your creative journey you may have had the opportunity to ride the creative wave. The high flying feeling that comes from receiving an influx of ideas and inspiration. You can barely keep up with the words as they flow through your fingers or the images as they fight to escape your brush. This feeling can be so consuming and intoxicating you cannot imagine a time when it will not be there.

Until it’s not.

Then you may find yourself struggling to recreate the creative flood and it can feel as if you are scrambling on ice. Flailing about unable to get your footing.

While I cannot tell you a sure fire way to bring back the creativity it’s important to understand that creative energy is energy and just like all the energies of nature it ebbs and flows. Just like flowers don’t bloom all year long the creative flood gates-while always available to us-don’t necessarily flow in the way that we would like. So many factors can contribute to us feeling pinched off from that energy. I am discovering that in those moments, my rhythm is what helps me the most.

When I sat down to write today-my daily rhythm-I had no idea what to write about. I wasn’t feeling inspired and in fact I was feeling inhibited by an unfinished post I began a few days ago. That post is proving more challenging to write than I anticipated and is creating a block in my mind.

The inspiration for that post wasn’t coming and the idea of sitting down to write something new felt more like a chore. I did however take a minute to remind myself why I write (I love it and enjoy it) so the “chore” label was something I was bringing from other experiences. I reminded myself that my creativity is mine and I get to decide what it looks like and when enough is enough.

Often times as creatives the more disciplined and “conventional” among us tend to be the teachers we have in school. They like to tell us all about our lack of discipline and what creating should look like. I am a huge believer that our lives need to be carved out as individuals and that includes the creative process.

I decided I would sit down and start writing words. I wasn’t much worried if they made sense and I had no idea what the first word would be before I typed it. In the course of writing this post I had ideas for 2 more (which I quickly wrote down in my idea book of shadows) and finished this post. This was accomplished while being interrupted by 2 little creative souls who feel Mommy’s creative energy flowing and decided they both had to paint right now.

What I’ve realized is creativity isn’t the fickle one we are. It is our fickleness that can pinch us off from our creative hearts and feel as if we are adrift in a sea void of ideas. When we remind ourselves why we create and follow our creative rhythm we often find ourselves aligned and flowing along making our masterpieces.

Or at least a blog post.

Until Next Time…

-Michele, aka The Dreaming Dilettante

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[chunmakowski3-blog]

hotass milf - What You Can Do About Mature Asian Feet Pics Starting In The Next Ten Minutes

Ive always had this silly idea in the back of my head, that maybe I should be writing more than just forum posts and rants on facebook, that maybe I might have more to say, or share, than Ive been allowing myself. So, within that vein of thought, I sat down, and through a mix of two things that really did happen to me, along with some embellishment and other imaginings, I put the following partial story together. I have no idea what to expect from this, good bad or indifferent, but If you take the time to read it, please share your thoughts / critique. Writing like this is experimental for me and Im going even further on the limb by making it erotic... and know that I know, that this is rather rough. Ive gone over it a few times, and I think I could continue to edit, just this tiny piece for ages. Point is, I know Im a newb, and have a long way to go before I might be good. So be honest, but also respectful please. Advice, points, a direction... all welcome. This is just the beginning. The second piece and most of the conclusion are outlined. If folks show interest, Ill finish it up and post it as part #2. Laundry Day... Saturday morning... close to noon, still tired from staying up too late the night before. I get some coffee started then head back to the other end of the house to grab some laundry for the wash. Its a beautiful spring day, really warm outside so I pull some windows and the door open, with just the screens on to keep the bugs out. I live on a quiet street in the suburbs, and mine is the last house before a few empty lots, so I get zero foot traffic. I dont even think twice about traipsing about the house in my boxers. Im 28 years old, about six foot tall, a little too thin but muscular and wiry from working construction all year. I think that Im considered attractive despite my hawkish nose. I have long hair and about 3 days of facial growth. I need to shave, but dont much care too. If I have an attribute that stands out, women often tell me that I have nice hands. Im humming along to Sweet child o mine squeaking out of my old radio while stuffing dirty clothes into the washer when I hear a flat knock on the screen door. The door isnt latched, so it swings half open at the touch. Im a little startled and surprised when I look over and see an attractive woman, twenty-something, dressed modestly in shorts and blouse carrying a hand-bag and a stack of pamphlets. She has long, strawberry blonde hair, and I notice right away, tight, fit legs and a cute face. Regardless of my surprise, I sheepishly say hello, and without even considering that Im more naked than not I approach the door, baffled that theres anyone there at all, nevermind this pretty young woman. She appears to be about as nervous as I am, and begins a rehearsed line from the sheet she has clutched in her hand. She stutters a bit but recoveres quickly. She says My church has asked a few of us to pass out these pamphlets to let people know about our Sunday services. She looks up expectantly, while reaching out to hand me a pamphlet. I take it, and our fingers touch, giving me a slight chill down my spine. A slight breeze blows through the house and I notice that she smells really nice. A complimentary scent to the spring air. I smile and look down at the pamphlet, surreptitiously her thighs. She doesnt seem to have more to say, so I tell her that Im not particularly religious but if she wants to talk, shes welcome to come on in as long as she doesnt mind if I do some laundry while we chat. I gesture at my obvious near nakedness, expecting a repsonse, but instead she just smiles again, very deliberately pushes the door the rest of the way open and walks over to sit down on the couch. She looks demure and slightly nervous, with her legs together and a stack of pamphlets gripped tight in both hands. Despite the apparent nervousness, shes still wearing a grin that looks more mischevious than awkward. I think to myself that so far her actions have been more bold than timid. The situation was feeling rather unreal, her sitting there with me standing in only my very brief thin white boxers. I didnt really know what to do, and I dont think it was conscious thought that got me there, but I walked over and sat next to her. We both sat quiet for a few moments that felt overlong. While I was trying to think up something to say, and becoming increasingly aware of how close to nude I was, she looked over at me, a little red-faced, and then suddenly stood up, mumbled something I didnt understand and took off out the door. If you have any kind of concerns about wherever as well as how to work with mature milfs pics, you are able to email us from our webpage. I stood up to follow, but she had distanced herself from the house rather quickly and I didnt want to run outside in only my underwear. I was puzzled, and more than a little disappointed that shed left so quickly. Id gotten near as much warning with her leaving as Id had with her coming. I turned around, shook my head, laughed a little, walked to my bedroom, found some jeans and a shirt to put on and then walked outside to see her and her group a few doors down talking with my elderly neighbor. They all looked up when they heard my screen door shut. I waved, she waved back, then turned away as the group said their goodbyes to my neighbor, got into a mini-van and drove away. With nothing more to do or say, I went back inside refilled my coffee mug and sat down on the couch, still warm where shed been sitting, and attempted to take stock of what just happened. Though there had been few words and no contact, the experience left me with my blood pumping. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. My mind replaying the experience over and over, changing the subtleties to suit my fantasies. Fantasies that eventually got the best of me. My cock got hard. Throbbing in my boxers, I couldnt help myself, I reached down and stroked it thinking of what might have happened differently with this impromptu beautiful stranger who had come to my home, and then left again after such a brief encounter. As the days turned to weeks, the memory of the experience and the fantasy became a sort of routine. I would sit on the couch and masturbate thinking of the day Id had a beautiful stranger come to my door. Each time I would imagine having said something clever or having reached over and touched her leg while she sat there, each action or word a catalyst for the fantasy to bloom. A touch turned to another, and then a kiss, and well, you get the idea. Time passed, a month or more, I dont remember now. It was my day off during the week. I was killing some time playing a video game, awaiting the time free naked mature pictures to go meet my friends for drinks that afternoon. It was still warm out, and after her visit and my subsequent fantasies, Id gotten into the habit of leaving the front door open, screen door closed but unlatched. Id come down from the high of the experience, but it was still fueling my masturbation ritual on a nearly daily basis. Despite this and though I suppose Id subconsciously hoped to run into her one day, I was harboring no real belief that Id see her again. Amidst the noise and distraction of the game I was playing, I almost didnt hear it when someone at my door cleared their throat. Once again startled, I jumped a little, and when I turned to see, it was her at the door, and already pushing it open, though Id not invited her in. I was dumbstruck and overwhelmed at how attractive she looked framed by the door and the sunlight streaming in around her. She let the door shut behind her, and stood there smiling dressed in a white t-shirt and semi-raggy short jeans with her long reddish-blonde hair flowing down her shoulders and onto her chest. She looked different, less demure, and it took me a few moments to realize she was wearing makeup that was absent at our first meeting, and this time her clothes are a little tighter and I can see that through her shirt, the bra shes wearing is lacy, sexy milf, on purpose. Her cute face and fit legs are the standouts of her appearance, and though I cant tell with her facing me, I imagine that she must have a really fantastic ass too. Then, in an instant, several things cross my mind at once. I felt my face flush red, as several weeks of stroking my cock to thoughts and fantasies about this woman came flooding back to me. It was my turn to studder. I didnt know what to say, and then I began to feel myself getting hard. I thought, at least Im wearing pants this time. Feeling unusually confident, perhaps inspired by her bold intrusion, I let my inhibitions go and allow myself to become erect. I stood there facing her, each of us looking one another up and down, taking each other in, appraising. I was sure shed noticed my hard-on, she smiled and then looked me in the eye. I nervously, nearly choking on the words said, Hey again, how are you... come on in. even though she was already standing in the room. tweakmymeter