Touching Happiness

This time I will use my blog to write about me. I always do, you know, but this time directly and not through some story or fantasy. Maybe what I write will be sad, I don't know, but this is how it is.

Don't get me wrong, most of the time I am a content person, happy with what is there, able to see the good things in life as well as the bad things, with a fairly real view of life...I think. What I wanted to write about is something else. I wanted to write about that underlying, always present, experience of being outside.

As long as I can remember I have had that feeling of being outside, left out and that things don't really happen to me. Reality is always beyond me, too far away. I am still like that.

Most of the time I don't think about it, but occasionally this sensation surface, becomes real. And then I know it is always there, always present. Holidays sometimes have that effect, emotions catch up with you and hidden feelings become real.

There is a longing, of course, to be able to reach that which I feel is real, that which is beyond me, that place where it really happens, where I am whole and complete and not lonely. Growing up has to some extent been realising that life is here and now and not over there, not that which I really long for. It is hear and tangible, at times, and not there and perfect.

When I met my first love, when my love, for the first time, was answered, I became happy. I was struck by a sense of reality, that things were really happening, now and to me. Whatever it was, it crashed through the barrier and became real. I was truly happy in all senses of the word.

It didn't last. The real reality made itself known, the distance between people became real and I crashed. I can't call it anything else. This was a terrible time, a crisis, almost madness. Not to the extent that I was admitted anywhere or treated it with anything, drugs or medication or that sort of thing. But I crashed and it was hellish.

I have had similar experiences since, not as powerful and not as terrible, but it has always been connected to powerful emotions, when I break through the barrier, when something good happens. The truth is that I cope better with misery than happiness.

The barrier is not complete, not impenetrable. There is sweetness in life, sweetness that makes me feel real. I can see that now. A caress can be so immensely sweet that I can feel that this is the only reality I ever need. Sometimes a smile or a kind word can get through and touch my heart. Growing up has been to learn to see these small holes in the wall, the moments when I am not alone and miserable. It makes me more content, more satisfied with life.

I will not return to blogging and connect it to what I am doing here. Fantasies are to some extent a way of dealing with that longing, that desire for not being outside, but being inside, where things happen to me for real. Entering into my imagination is to enter into a world where I can create that reality I deep down long for.

Fantasies are not just about sex but they are fuelled by desire. This is because sex is real, sex is something that breaks through, a little, and at times. Not always. Sex is something that really happens and that makes it real. It is dangerous too because when it is really good, the returning to the world can be harsh.

Fantasies about things that are arousing, is a way of being transported to that other world of real things, that world of longing, where things are simple and sweet and delightful. Sex and arousal are good things in that world and that is why they are so prominent in fantasies. But they are not the only thing I long for.

Maybe the kinky side of fantasies functions as a battering ram, to break through the wall. It is by shocking the system, by breaking the norms that I am crashing through and can allow myself the sweetness of my fantasies. I don't know, I am just writing down my thoughts.

Blogging, for me, is not just about writing stories, it is about admitting to that strange inner world where my longings and desires exist, even those that are truly beyond anything that can ever be real.

I see, now, that I have used 'reality' and 'real' in two different ways. On the one hand it refers to the world where we live, where we watch tv and eat food and can be lonely, and on the other hand it refers to that other existence, that inner world, the one I long for, that world where things really happens, the imaginary dreamworld. I hope I haven't confused you too much.

Just an Ordinary Day

It is a very ordinary day. It is 29 years since John Lennon was killed. It is winter and the darkness descends on us who live in the northern hemisphere...well, at least here. I am tired of having to come up with something for the blog. Maybe it is the winter, maybe it is me but I have been doing this for three years and sometimes I am not so very creative. It goes up and down and now I am fed up with trying to be clever.

No, I am not scrapping the blog, that's not what I am saying. I am trying to say that today I don't feel like blogging or writing about fantasies or anything. So I will tell you how boring I am.

Have been working a little from home today, I shouldn't complain, it is not too bothersome. This means I take my lunch at home, alone, take a walk in the park (to get out of the flat at least once a day). I have been emptying the dish washer and generally uncreating the mess that I always seem to leave behind. Staring at the almanac at the wall. It has pictures of ballet dancer and was a gift from my beloved husband. This month it is a male dancer and I realise that I don't fancy male dancers as much as the ballerinas. He looks kind of silly in a silly costume (ballet dancer, not husband), some kind of fancy bolero thing that would look strange on a woman but silly on a man. You see, I am not very free in my mind.

I am thinking of my latest blogpost, the one before this one. I thought people would be a little offended or hurt by it but instead they find it erotic or that sort of thing. And I am not the narrator, I never am. It is just that I like seeing things from the inside.

Never mind, this is becoming a rant and that was not my intention. Take care out there and be kind to yourselves and others.

Six of the Best (of Songs)

It seems as if it is quite common nowadays with lists and questionnaires and such things on blogs. You know that I prefer to talk about myself through my stories and fantasies but now I decided to start a theme here, with Six of the Best of different things, such as songs and books and films.

So these are Six of the Best songs that have not been written by David Bowie (I will make a list of those later). Anyway, note that it doesn't say the Six Best, but Six of the Best. This means these songs are a pick of the best, not necessarily the best.

1 Wuthering Heights (Kate Bush, 1978)

This is simply a brilliant song, unlike most other songs. Kate Bush's voice is special, like no other voice. I love this song, it brings tears to my eyes. It is very romantic and it is not ashamed of being romantic. When I see Kate Bush sing her song I can see how it easy it would be to make fun of her, she is quirky and silly. But she is more than that. She is sensual and dreamy and so immensely confident that it touches my soul.

Live version

2 This is the Sea (The Waterboys, 1985)

The music that the Waterboys created around the mid 80s has been called the Big Music. I think I know why. This music touches my soul too but in a very different way. This is spiritual music, there is something that transcends the everyday life here. I can't really explain it but this song is one of the most happy songs I know, more full of life and hope than almost anything else.

Live version (bad quality), studio version

3 What Goes On (The Velvet Underground, 1968)

When I listen to Velvet Underground, and especially the earlier albums I get quite enthusiastic and want to tell everyone that this is the best band ever. This is minimalistic music, simple in all aspects but so brilliant it hurts. I can't really put my finger on what makes this to such a great song. Perhaps I don't have to. Just listen to it and enjoy something really great.

Studio version

4 Get It On (T.Rex, 1971)

This is a unique song by a unique artist. This song moves on in its own pace, relentless but oh so sweet and gentle. This is a song that takes hold of you and moves you along in a kind of smooth undulating movement. It rocks but it rocks so sweetly that you just want to close your eyes and be swept along. This is sexy in a way that seems to be forgotten nowadays.

Live from Top of the Pops

5 Common People (Pulp, 1995)

This is one of my favourites at the moment. I don't really know what to say about it. It is a great song, full of passion and anger, brilliant in its simplicity. I never got the Brit Pop Wonder. As you may have noticed I prefer older music. This one, however, makes me want to dance and sing and that is quite good for a song.

Studio version with video, live version

6 Eternal Flame (The Bangles, 1989)

This is the ultimate romantic song. It has it all but it stays short of making you choke on its sweetness. I love the voice of Susanna Hoffs, it is so vulnerable and delightful that I just want to cry. This is so lovely I have no words for it. One of the best love songs ever written by a member in a band that had Girl Power long before Spice Girls ever became a phenomenon.

Studio version, live version

Ups and Downs

Dear readers, as you may have noticed, I haven't been blogging as much as I use to. I am fine. It is just that I haven't had much to say, lately. This is a little lazy, I know, but on the other hand I feel bad just writing something I don't have my heart in.

I have been blogging since November 2006, and on average I have had two blogposts per week (at least when I haven't been on holiday). I m not bragging or looking for pity, just telling you that I have been doing this for some time and at the moment I don't really know what I want to say, what story I want to tell.

I am not giving up writing. Far from it. It means so much to me to realise that I enjoy writing, the power of being able to express myself, being able to share my thoughts and fantasies.

And writing isn't just about spanking fantasies. There are so much to write about and talk about. I think, however, that I will stick to fantasies in this blog. Don't worry, I will not bother you with long romantic stories here. Unless there is some spanking in them.

Anyway, I will be quite busy for a week and a half and won't be blogging until beginning of September. So, apologies for letting you wait for the next blog post.

So, there readers, thank you for reading and being so kind to me. You are the best! I will be back. Have fun!

Emptiness

Daydreaming, fantasising, letting your mind fly, call it what you want but there is something pleasant in it. We use our imagination to conjure up something nice, perhaps, to flee from our mundane everyday life. That is how it often is perceived and how it works for many people. That is how it is supposed to work.

I find that I am not very good at escaping to fantasy land when I am stressed out, angry or really sad, the times when I need it most. My fantasies are most colourful when I am in a good mood.

When I am happy or inspired I like going there, to roam in the endless green forests of dream country, to stand in awe in front of the high castles, to be amazed by the temples and spires and golden domes of unheard of cults. Then I stare at beautiful slaves and grim warriors of ancient and impossible times. When I am in a good mood I give in to the passions of the slave and the excitements of captivity and strange submission. On a stage, in my mind, I see strange dramas play out, some of them become stories, others stay in my head.

But when I am stressed out and angry it seems as if my imagination doesn't work. Then there is no inspiration and no colourful dreamland. That is sad.

That is where I am now. Don't really know why it is like that at the moment but I don't seem to have time for stories and fantasies and that gets to me. I don't like that.

Today something scary happened. I work from home a lot and today when I was preparing lunch an electric ring on our cooker exploded. Or at least it seemed like an explosion. There were flames and strange sounds and it was like a firework. I have never seen anything like it before.

So, please, forgive me for a gloomy and uninspired blog post. I wish I could write something nice and inspiring but today I am not in the best mood for that.

Ten Things...

...you perhaps already had figured out about Janice. This is a fascinating exercise. I don't generally talk about myself in this blog, except for what is in my head but now I give you some exciting facts about myself. Don't ask me why I wrote everything in third person! Could it be that I am in denial?

1. Janice is a prude. She is extremely embarrassed about sex. Her fantasy mind seems to be that of a thirteen year old, which means sex is exciting but very, very embarrassing. This means she is embarrassed about explicit descriptions about sex and some words. You may have noticed that there are very few explicit descriptions and not many naughty words, on her blog. That is the prude in her. This does not mean, however, that she doesn't do it and doesn't enjoy it. She is older and bolder now but she is still quite prudish. The ones who think repressed sexuality is a driving force behind her blogging may be right.

2. Apes are among Janice's favourite animals and her favourite ape is the Gorilla. And regarding the nature of this blog she feels compelled to add that she has never had any sexual fantasies including apes. Still Gorillas are very nice and interesting and they look cool too.

3. Janice sometimes hits stationary objects with her bicycle which causes her to fall off it and hurt herself. To be honest, this has only happened once the last twenty or so years. But she did stumble and take a fall on the platform of Cardiff Central some years ago. She made a fool of herself and almost lost her glasses but she survived.

4. Janice is a great fan of Bowie's and has seen him in concert five times. She thinks most of his music is brilliant and that he is a spiffing poet as well. She does, furthermore, think that his later music is as good as his earlier works. She doesn't think Bowie is just Ziggy Stardust but was Janice to become a rock star she would want to be Ziggy Stardust, despite the fact that he is (or was) a man.

5. Janice loves cats, not only kittens but cats in all shapes and forms (almost). She once had two cats, one white and one black. The white one went missing and the black one moved to another place. Both of them were stray cats. The oddest thing happened when Janice moved places. The black cat, then living at a neighbour (this was in the country and the neighbour actually lived a mile away) and not showing herself for Janice or her partner for many years, suddenly appeared and ran along the car the last time they left the old place. It felt as if she came to say goodbye.

6. Janice is married and happily so. It is, of course, stupid to pretend that everything is nice and cosy always but she loves her husband to the extent that she feels bereaved whenever he is away and can't sleep well and is generally unhappy when he is not by her side. And she also feels more loved and cared for than ever in her life. Although she has been together with her partner for many a year she has been married to him for less than a year.

7. Janice is extremely embarrassed about her body and is very uncomfortable in places where she is supposed to show it, like on the beach. Although she loves swimming, this makes it a little awkward to do that. It is not because she feels ugly or is too fat or too thin or anything. She feels ok and knows herself to be attractive to some degree. It goes back to childhood and a sense of being ashamed of her body, not because it was anything wrong with it but just because it was like that. This may be the reason why there are so many women getting their clothes off in her fantasies. It may have to do with the mixed feelings she has. Nudity is embarrassing, degrading and generally humiliating but nudity also means a lot of exciting things, like showing off, being who you are and, of course, sex. Those mixed feelings are always present in her writing and seems to be the driving force behind a lot of her fantasies.

8. Janice loves art from the Victorian era. Her favourite painters are Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones (nice long name, eh?) and John William Waterhouse. She doesn't think Picasso was a genius, the opposite actually. This does not mean, however, that she despises all kinds of abstract art. She thinks Mondrian was a brilliant painter. That is how she is, Janice, full of contradictions.

9. Janice likes computer games. She is not very good at them but she enjoys them from time to time. It may surprise you a little that meek and silly Janice actually enjoys killing people and monsters in games. She does like to play nice games too, like the ones where you build things up, cities and settlements and such things.

10. Janice has never been spanked. Not in childhood and neither later in life. She has no real idea of how it would be to be spanked but her vivid imagination still returns to the subject. She is quite fascinated by the fact that she seems to describe emotions that people with real knowledge about spankings experience. She thinks this is due to the fact that we are all humans and think alike and that the imagination plays an important role even for those who have hands on bottoms experience, so to speak.

Well, alright, eleven things...

11. At this point, about here, Janice's blog contains slightly less than 85 000 words. A normal page in an ordinary novel contains some 300 words. This means that Janice has written text corresponding to some 280 pages. That is a novel in less than a year.

Ok, twelve...

12. One of Janice's favourite pastimes is kite flying. She owns several kites with her husband and loves to go and fly them when the winds are right. Her favourite kite is a sports kite with two lines and she is getting quite good at making it fly in circles and figures but still has a lot to learn. She feels strangely happy as the kite pulls its lines and almost appears as something living, something with a mind of its own.

13. Janice's husband took her for a trip to Bristol for her birthday to attend a kite flying festival and then to the zoo to say hello to the Gorillas. She truly enjoyed her weekend in Bristol and was amazed by the skill of some of the kiters (is that a real word?).

Ok, that was thirteen things.

Ego

About a year ago I fell off my bicycle. It was a lovely day at the end of September last year. I was on my way to work. I was cycling along a cycle path. It is quite narrow and only bicycles and pedestrians are allowed there. Here and there there are bollards put up, to stop cars entering the path and to make the bike tour more dangerous.

I was approaching one of those bollards, slowly, being aware of the risk of hitting it. There was a group if teenagers standing close by and I remember thinking how embarrassing it would be to fall off my bicycle in front of them.

Still approaching very slowly the handlebar hit the bollard and my bicycle went one way and I the other. I hit the ground flat on my face. The teenagers asked me if I was ok and I lied to them and said I was. I scrambled to my feet and turned around and went home, walking this time, leading my bicycle.

The strange thing was that I had hit the ground flat on my chest but the very white shirt I was wearing did not show any sign of what had happened (except a tiny spot of blood). My black trouser (yes, I do wear trousers from time to time) were very dirty. I had fallen on my face but I could not find a scratch. Still my glasses were broken while I was still wearing them. I did wear a helmet, which showed signs of having hit the ground quite hard.

I managed to get home where I assessed my injuries. I had hit my ribcage on the left side quite badly and my right arm I had managed to twist in some strange way and it was in a bad state. I was in a great deal of pain for some weeks and could not do anything but lie on my back in bed. I know what you are thinking but even the lightest hug was an ordeal. After a month, I think, my ribs were getting better but my right arm I could not still straighten properly. It took at least six months before it was back to normal.

It was about that time I started my blog. Is there a connection? Anyway, I don't usually write just about myself like this. I still think that what goes on in my mind is far more interesting than a simple cycling accident. Still it is my blog so I can be a little free to tell my story.

Now I can laugh about falling off my bicycle but it was quite embarrassing at the time and I can't really understand how I managed to do that at that particular location. It was one of those really unnecessary accidents that could be easily avoided and I have no one else to blame but me.

So, Dear Reader, always remember to wear a helmet when riding your bicycle!