That one time I caught myself on fire while performing.

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The older, very attractive man I was dating solicited my fire dancing services one weekend. Naturally I was anxious but this anxiety came with something else….lack of training. The last gig I performed in San Diego was over 2 months ago. I was not consistently practicing and progressing my moves, and I hadn’t burned aka danced with fire since the first week in Feb, it was now mid  April.

We arrived at the venue….. in Mexico; I forgot to mention during this time I was living in Mexico. I pulled on my knitted tights and dipped my poi for the entrance. I spun the excess gas off my props, neglecting to dab myself down with a wet tolla after. I began to prance in, one quick whip of the wrist to criss cross and within a few seconds my left tight was burning. The gas, as expected, burned off fast and within a few moments my left thigh was exposed but no longer burning.
I just kept dancing and smiling.

My first prop burned out and I exited the make shift stage.
The percusionistas tapped rhythm into beats , Mini entered with her LED Hoop , then Jenny wowed the crowd with her poi moving. Jenny is very good with the poi and that fucks with the egotistical Leo in me, which drives the intent to begin training again.

I dipped my hula hoop in anticipation for the finale. We all danced onto the stage, Jenny touched my wicks with her balls of fire to light me.
But the hoop wasn’t lighting.
I had danced in the rain with it at least an hour ago.
The wicks were too damp for the gas to burn.
So here we were, at the finale ; Mini dazzling with her lights, Jenny tossing the poi effortlessly around her body and then me….dropping a wet fire hoop that wasn’t even on fire.

It was pretty embarrassing.

And not only did I have the worst performance of my life, it was my lover’s company who hired me.

Double whammy.
But these are  type of things that happen to Ashley.

Or maybe it was a kick in the ass from the universe saying “hey slut, stop dicking around and get back to training or you’re just another rookie” .

I like to think it is the latter; just makes me feel better about the entire evening.

 

Long Live The Pregnancy Trick

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For many years there has been a long-standing tradition which many women have participated. Every April 1st men across the country are surprised with accusations of positive pregnancy, Facebook posts will be made declaring a new member into families, calls will be made to friends with shocking news of fertility. But the hoax only last a few hours and soon we all remember it is April Fool’s day and none of friends, lovers, or family are actually having a baby.

It’s all in good fun, like several other April Fool’s tricks. So why is it we are now encountering messages bashing the timeless ruse?

As I scroll my news feed today and see articles shaming women  who play the “pregnancy trick” I must admit I heavily disagree. These articles claim that it is offensive and hurtful to women who have trouble conceiving or may have lost a child during birth, it further explains how distasteful and inhumane the pregnancy trick can be…..are you fucking kidding me?

I’m sorry, when did April Fool’s become such a diplomatic event  that required rules and boundaries? Furthermore, what does your situation have to do with me? Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not think anyone woman is intentionally mocking another woman’s infertility today. I have not seen any “I can get pregnant and you can’t” posts or memes. It is not my fault that you can not conceive or that you may have conceived and lost your baby.That is between you and your body. Just as the joke is between my lover and me. If seeing pregnancy jokes illicit a depressing moment for you, that is something you need to deal with and I strongly suggest post traumatic therapy.

Too many times society has told us it is everyone else’s fault for our feelings, while it is the exact opposite I believe. Imagine it this way; you are a mother having trouble conceiving, you see your friend makes a status announcing “BABY BOY ON THE WAY” , and even though you know it’s a joke you break down and cry in regards to your own troubling situation, and while you are crying you become enraged with your friend “how dare she joke about getting pregnant when I am actually struggling”……well how dare you become infuriated with someone else’s joke because of YOUR infertility? Any one else notice how selfish hatred can actually be?

If no one is intentionally being malicious towards you directly in regards to your infertility then why do you feel the right to be offended? Should cancer victims be offended when girls shave all their hair off voluntarily? Or should men be offended by lesbians who wear dildos while lovemaking?

Now, I am not saying fuck being sensitive to struggling mothers to be but I am asking for them to think about why they feel offended and outraged at a simple joke that has nothing to do with them.

I say long live the pregnancy trick on April Fool’s day! And if it offends you, don’t get on your social sites today.

Now please, let the ridicule of my insensitivity begin.

Bi-Sexuality-

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I always thought she was really cute.
Slender, hip-y, tall with pale curves.
Her eyes were softly blue and her lips plumply pink. She reminded me of “Nips”; a major love interest in the original UK version of Skins.
She was so sexy, so confident yet so hopeless; seemingly weak.
I always wanted to kiss her I think.
Even before I really KNEW I wanted to.
And once I did that’s all I wanted to do.
She turned me on, kept me fascinated, in her presence I was always horny…
And we were both younger then.
Katy Perry’s song always played in the back of my head-“I Kissed a girl and I liked it”
But these stirrings weren’t simply cordial. Not just another intoxicated girls evening.
I wanted her.
To be with her.
For the two of us, together, to mean something.
I had the lingering to be with her The way I wanted to be with men.
She was so pretty, and complicated and confusing but so pretty and delicate and sweet but I didn’t know, at that time, being bi sexual was an authentic part of me.
I still regret not using the opportunity to pursue anything with her.
Anna W. ,to this day, is the only past one I would go back and try it again with.
And we never actually “tried” anything.
We slept together twice, three times maybe.
Went on one Valentines date. Nothing comparable to the facade I recollect to to people informing that her and I were “dating”.
I wish then I knew more about me.
About my sexuality.
I wish I had pursued her more.
Because as a person she glowed in beauty.
Her eyes,
Her lips,
Her mind
Her hobbies
Her flaws
Her body
Down to her inspiringly naughty
tattoos tracing her curvy lining.
Secretly, at the time, I wanted her to want more of me, but somewhere we plato-ed and the increasingly steamy altercations became less interesting.
One night I leaned in to kiss her and she abruptly disregarded me.
And, as I thought only a male lover could, it slightly pained me.
I didn’t know until Anna W. that I truly also desired girls.
Until her it was just a few drunk inklings induced with cohesive exploration.
But her I wanted.
I wanted to make her smile.
I wanted to make her laugh
I wanted to get her off and explore the inside of her tummy
I wanted her body
I wanted her approval
Her loyalty
As a lover, not just a friend.
But I didn’t know who I was now when I was who I was then.
I didn’t know what it meant to be bi sexual and truly lust and have intimate affections for another woman.
I was just so unsure and unaware and Anna W.may have very well been uninterested.
She was hard to read, mostly responsive sexually but even then she could be stoic enough to confuse me.
I think the day she skipped away to Hagerstown I started identifying with bisexuality ;displaying my acknowledgment for female affection more.
But Anna W. will always be the first for me. Not the first girl I have ever been physical with but the first girl I have ever encountered genuine feelings for. Mostly because she was so beautiful and mostly because she still is highly covetable to me. Even if it was just another experience while we were young, Anna W. will always be my reason for defying my bi sexuality.

Dear Diary

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Today the universe bent down and kissed me. Figuratively speaking. The day was filled with good vibes and occurrences for me. I finally, after a tiresome and doubt filled search, found an affordable room to rent that is not in a foreign owned boarding house labeled as “comfy home with room to rent!”.
One of my more discreet club crushes and I while speaking today realized we were both Leo’s!!!! And even though he has a significant other, I don’t see the harm in sharing expression-able conversations with him. Plus I love his razor straight pearly teeth that show when he is smiling. Surprisingly and yet re assuredly, I have the funds I need and I am not worried about the funds that I don’t. Almost a week after my “cab- incident” (notice the use of incident as opposed to accident) My tailbone has finally agreed to cooperate with the rest of my body. This is awesome considering I have not done any handstand inversions lately. There is no lack of security in my employment. I am blessed with a place to practice a few of my flow arts and the ambitious motivation to commence a performing art career. Life does not appear to be at a stand still for me; I’m progressing. I am creditably trying to regrowth my independence and responsibility while creating myself not only as an individual but a spiritual being. Today I was happy. simple excitements filled the day and the appreciation for them only made the day that much sweeter; as if the universe and my life had conspired together and were happy for each other.

Cabbies and Cop Cars

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The Reflection: blog post

I can’t believe how frantic I was this morning, how much I cried incredulously. The proper thing would have been to keep the meter running. Even if it would have been very costly. That would easily have avoided the occurrence of what happened sequentially. I reacted too rash, hard, sensitive, with out control of my decision making.
I assumed out of good faith the cabbie would have reluctantly acquiesced relinquishing me.
Jumping out of a moving cab was surely all too daring.
My skinned left elbow is going to leave quite a scar along the skin, in addition to an immobilizing pang in my tail bone.
If it didn’t end horribly, if it didn’t end shamefully, I would have had an amusing defeat as the scar would not be in vain.
But it is another scrape, another ache, but my pride has also been scraped.
Enduring a potential landlord witness your debacle with the local federals….and then come to the rescue by paying the fare herself!!!
It killed the lioness in me.
A delinquent act on display, I felt cornered, threatened, I was defeated due to my own lack of responsibility.
And in that moment I was weak, compulsively I begun crying, searching my contacts for someone to calm me. It was a series of unfortunate events. I probably will have to continue to search for a new room to call home. Not to mention how embarrassing it all was for me.
My forgetfulness will never get the best of me again.
I understand the effects from lack of memory.
For in that moment I am weak.
And weak is something I don’t want to be.

(Cont. below photo)
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Incident- an avoidable occurrence
The incident
Text to T-dog from a few hours earlier

Sent: Sat, Nov 9 2013, 11:16am
Msg: (1/6) I had an appointment with a lady renting out her whole house this AM, on the bus there I go too far to the metro which makes me late, I come to the concl(2/6) usion I’ll take a cab to double back. While I am getting out of the cab I realize my debit card is not in my possesion and I cease to carry cash as not t(3/6) o deplete my funds with frivolous spending. Cabby don’t like that and even though I protested earnestly with supplying him a check or another method of m(4/6) oney transfer and he decides he is going to drive me back. I’m already late and the spot in the house is a great deal, so I just continue to exit the cab(5/6) as the driver attempts to stop me by speeding off. That didn’t end well for me, my elbows, my butt or my back. Still, after I scrape myself off the side street I wait by the cab as he calls the police. A few mn pass, no police yet, no one is answering my calls and now I’m even later so I just continue to

Sent: Sat, Nov 9 2013, 11:20am
Msg: (1/5) Down the street to meet the lady. So at this point i am late and bruised and frantic from the prior situation. I meet the lady and all seems good. As i le(2/5) ave to go back down towards the cab i see a cop, he was just about to pass me when i stop him to look at him and wonder if he is looking for me. I kinda (3/5) approach the cop car, stupid i know, and he questions if im the one from the cab….three cop cars in front of this lady’s house later,my potential land(4/5) lord comes out and pays my cab fare, I am so mortified I begged her not to and suggested moments later that
while i go to the bank for a new card i can b(5/5) ring her back the cash…she asks me: are you sure you can afford rent😦 FUCK

Let’s Scream Sexy!!!….not

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Miranda, that one red headed, kinda hot kinda not, secondary character from SEX AND THE CITY had it wrong when she said she wanted to “scream sex” after a potential hook up wandered toward the sight of a slightly under dressed younger more attractive looking girl.
Miranda later in the episode complains that she is sexy but men don’t notice that. She named it the ability to scream sex and that she wanted to, with her physical appearance, scream sex also.
A real woman doesn’t aim to SCREAM sex.
More so she strives to display it.
Properly, tastefully,modernly with personality.
Every feline creatures posses the attribute to appear sexy. But you never want to outwardly scream sex or demand to be found provocatively sexy. You want to learn to display yourself as the feline woman you are and in your own skin you are sexy.
Reasonably true, more often than not attraction is driven somewhat by physical lust, thus being the reason we want people to find us “sexy”.
What I think the character of Miranda didn’t apprehend is; you don’t TRY to SCREAM sex with your physical appearance.
Knit tight red lipstick whores scream sex.
Caked face divorcee cougars scream sex.
Under age, tiny shirted adolescent girls scream sex.
A bachelorette displays it.
A woman displays it.
For instance; sexy could be displayed in her neckline, where she has chosen to wear no necklace at all, in place of where your fingers might caress her soft skin.
But no woman should want to SCREAM sex.
Scream that someone should dominate then be rid of her.
That is all too desperate.
Too easy.
But you DO want to display that you are sexy.
As a feminine creature it is your right to be.
Think of it like this: Who wants to buy a purse if it don’t look pretty.
Display that you are a sexy womanly creature, whatever to you that may mean to be.
I think that is what Miranda,the character, meant when she referred to her envy of women who possess the ability to “scream sex”.
I believe Miranda meant: the ability some woman posses to tastefully, modernly, properly, with their own personality, display that they are sexy.
And that is the type of sexy attribute to be envious of.

My Friend

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I wonder why I have not slept with LePoo yet
He is smart and handsome enough.
when we do speak behind confined walls he has interestingly beautiful things to say about the things he thinks.
Not the ideal situation to pursue for future proposals but I know he would fuck me if I went back there and performed a blunt pass on him. individuals understand when their physical attraction is mutual.
And that’s what drives human lust
It’s an animal instinct.

Baby you and I ain’t nothing but mammals so let’s do it like they do it on the discovery channel

It’s difficult to engage in activities with someone you find attractive and not want to fuck, it’s like a hormone your bodies emit to one another in existence of the physical atmosphere building up.
And as friendly as LePoo and I had become I am quite aware of his admiration for my physique.
Quite possible it could be the language barrier
Or that he may not be interested at all.
But sometimes we hold glances after detaching with a smile, he takes the opportunity to poke me while we do yoga exercises and when we do touch it is comfortably close.
But not close enough.
That is the difference between LePoo and Travis.
The Slight tingles when we touch.
The lady giggles from LePoo mediocrely pass for jump your bones type signals.
LePoo and I have hung out on several occasions, solely on the basis of being cordial while sharing a common interest for Mary Jane.
His English is mildly fluent but not yet useful enough for in depth, highly intellectual conversations.But he is swiftly learning.
Even so , LePoo and I share something that Travis and I do not.
I knew things about LePoo, personal inquires that he shared willing.
I only know things about Travis because I snoop.
Maybe it is because LePoo and I are actual friends while Travis and I, well while we teeter around friends with benefits.
Quite possibly that is why I crave true friendship, the unveiling of the other person, knowing them for whom they grow to be.
I wish my head didn’t hurt so badly, it would be much easier to write this.
I also wish I knew why I had yet to crawl into LePoo’s bed where he awaited willingly.
Friendly.
Truthfully I can not decide what it means to sleep in bed with him. We have slept in his bed, a group of 3, myself, him and another, but maybe I am not yet ready to share the bed ALONE with him.
Maybe I am, but what if I go to bed with him, snuggle in too close and to my disarray find out that it was all just a disillusion and he doesn’t actually linger longer than normal when our knees touch, maybe I am mis reading everything (as I tend to) and maybe he is truly just being friendly.
He HAS referred to me as such multiple times on all types of occasions.
And Maybe I shouldn’t still be thinking of Travis, slightly in the back of my head.
Hidden behind my headache, jumbled with all the other things that I wish I could just toss out of my head.
I wonder how much longer until I don’t think of him at all. Travis that is. How much longer until I can invite him into my bed, willingly, friendly, with no benefit-ly.
But that’s the thing about Travis.
Something about when he touches me.
My body.
That little tingle he gives me, how ultimately reason is useless and I just cave in.
That I DONT get with LePoo.
It’s more of a light tickle, as if we both know it be fun to play, but we don’t know if we really want to.
With Travis it’s more of an urge, it is quite hard to keep my hands anything but friendly around him, especially once his mouth catches me.
Once I have kissed Travis in a night I have already lost the battle, from there on out it’s all about just putting up a good fight.
I think it be exhaustingly hard to not act on attraction with Travis.
The issue being we didn’t begin as friends.
Not like LePoo and I.
LePoo and I connect because we ARE friends.
Yes, I do believe, that the fact in itself that I am sitting here at 3am pondering to sleep on the couch instead of cuddling up next to some Foreign hottie….
Then there’s also Travis, well not Travis but the things I childishly thought Travis could mean(because we all know the real deal on that one) potentially holding me back from attempting anything physical with LePoo.
Loyalty can be deceiving.
My mind knows better but my body grows accustomed to touch.
But then again I am accustomed to wandering lust.
And LePoo is a handsome young man.
Maybe if LePoo was more aggressive in his approach, mildly he is a gentleman thus very discreet about physically flattering me.
Which is enjoyable but awfully confusing.
But then again there’s the conclusion that we clearly are just friends.
Which would also be very nice too.
He has been so inviting, and I would dislike very much to spoil a promising friendship.
I think I may sleep with him.
No, not with him.
Next to him.
I will sleep next to him.
I will go sleep next to LePoo, my friend.
Better not add another excuse for a reluctant lover to fret about.
And just like that I am already making better decisions.
:)