Painted On Jeans!

It seems like yesterday that people everywhere said she was a cute bundle of joy. There just seems to be something special about little baby girls that pull at the heartstrings of both a mother and father. Although bruised and exhausted after her stressful journey into this world, she is well known by her beautiful features which resemble heavenly serenity, yet her hidden joy is yet to be realized.

While young and inexperienced, she is a precious jewel with much to learn; yet life will prove to be the antidote to the thing that eludes her most. The early days of bumps and bruises appear to be insignificant, yet soon enough, they will prove to alter her decisions and feel natural in the process. Fathers do well to protect their prized joy wrapped in pink while sporting barrettes and a tiny purse, whereas mothers claim host to having carried, birthed and nurtured this little girl—its daddy that really made the difference.

The day daddy left, was the same day the earth stopped rotating and all directions led into the ground. That girl is no longer a baby, and an absentee father has promoted the decisions she wrestles with in secret. Mommy did the best she could, and for whatever reason daddy left a hole larger than the Grand Canyon in her heart, family and future. Who needs a compass when you can look for treasure to replace the pain and suffering on your own?

Many little girls today range in age from their teens to nineties, yet they are still looking for daddy to come home and put his arm around them, cry on their shoulder and say, “I’m sorry, love you and everything is going to be alright”, yet this reality will not be experienced by many.

Little girls are beautiful, simple yet extremely complex. The place where life begins is also the place where life extends. It’s never been enough to be a biological mother or father; little girls are highly impacted and shaped by their relationship and influence from their daddy.

The scales of life offer extreme alternatives to genuine love, purity and hope—while the love and affection of daddy offers encouragement, affirmation and stability; the absence of daddy offers rebellion, promiscuity and insanity. In a world that is obsessed with experiencing everything for the sake of selfish desires, young girls are easy prey to the assembly line of young men who are skilled at feeding their minds with words their hearts can barely comprehend. Respect never begins after clothes come off.

Titus 2:4-5, “These older women must train the younger women to love their husbands and their children, to live wisely and be pure, to take care of their homes, to do good, and to be submissive to their husbands.” (NLT)

So many women and young girls never had a daddy, and were left to navigate through life with a broken compass, often running from one broken relationship to another. Does painted-on jeans, blouses four sizes small and 3-inch heels make a woman? Can a woman without a relationship with her daddy honor others without desperate acts of affirmation?

Depending upon your own abilities is exactly what got you into trouble in the first place. A compass that is calibrated through a relationship with Jesus Christ ultimately overrides all other failures in life. It doesn’t matter if you are a student, single, married or a widow—genuine hope will never be found in starving yourself in private, blaming men for your choices or giving away sex so that you won’t be alone.

If you could make everything right in your life today—would you? I’ll give you the opportunity to take that first step toward a new life regardless of your personal pain or circumstances. If you are honest and desire truth, then stop running and invite Jesus Christ into your life right now. Simply admit to Him that you’ve messed up and need His help and forgiveness, ask Him to be your Lord and Savior and give you a desire to know Him. It’s that simple. Be encouraged!

Egypt McKee

Author, Speaker and TV Host

Out of Egypt Ministries

www.OutOfEgypt.com

www.LifeTheStruggleWithin.com

©2009 Copyright, Out of Egypt Ministries. All Rights Reserved.

[Via http://egyptmckee.wordpress.com]

Everything rumbles when the thunder falls too near.

Everything Rumbles When the Thunder Falls Too Near January 5, 2010  |  Posted by Administrator

It was just something that he had always kind of wanted to do. By no means was it the only thing that he could think about, nor did his life bare scars of regret in its absence. It came into his head, this thing that he wanted to do, every so often between more pressing thoughts, and he would half-smile and imagine how neat it would be if one day without warning this thing were to actually happen. There was a girl in is life, and he waited to ask her until they had been together for a while, until she really knew what sort of person he was and that this small thing that he had always kind of wanted to do was just a peripheral quirk, some odd take-it-or-leave-it whim that was maybe oddly endearing or even a little bit sexy. He wasn’t crazy or perverted or a freak. She would have to understand that first. So he waited, weeks and then months, before he ever brought it up.

“Let’s make love in the carwash,” he finally said one day while they were sitting on the roof watching the sun dip over the top of another roof.

She turned her head slowly and snorted.

“In the carwash?”

“Yes. I think we should make love in the carwash maybe.”

The words hung there as he reclined on his elbow and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Like on the ground, in the spot where the cars go, where all the dirt from the cars is washed off?”

“No silly, in a car in the carwash. You know, either yours or mine, while it’s being washed we can stay in the car. We can stay there and make love in the carwash.”

She laughed a single laugh in that high-pitched way that means a million things and you have to choose just one. Then she turned back towards where the sun had set over shingles. Silence followed briefly until a chill drove them inside and the topic of conversation turned in other directions.

This was not a disappointing outcome. It had never been his expectation that she would agree right away. That might have seemed slutty after all, which was really not what this was about. He thought of toes in the water, and reminded himself that a healthy perspective is important. This first attempt had landed somewhere between acceptance and rejection, definitely promising.

They dated for a little while longer, and things were quite pleasant. Each found the other to be entertaining, and there were some sweet times when they just wanted to sleep all day in the same bed with their legs touching. After an extended period of things going well and the two really getting along they decided to get engaged. She was very happy, and so he asked her again soon after.

“Let’s just make love in the carwash.”

She kissed him, which he thought was a yes, but then she never brought it up again, and it sort of went away. They got married in a garden that you could rent for weddings. He was happy to say things like, I’ll have to run that by the Mrs., and she felt better after they fought and made up when she could call him my darling husband. They lived in a little house with flower boxes and felt very much like real people with real lives. Sometimes they laughed just because being that way made them both feel like laughing.

Still there was this question that arose from time to time – not often, just every once in a while – when they had finished raking all the leaves or when she found out she might be pregnant:

“Why don’t you and I take the car down the street to the carwash and, you know.”

It kept coming up, here and there, after a bad movie, before a dentist appointment. The subject usually changed quickly or just melted away into chuckles and kissing. Their lives progressed in normal ways. Automobiles were purchased. Important decisions were made, but then there it was again, this question at random moments, after a long night when the baby didn’t sleep or the time the cable company accidentally gave them some premium channels that they didn’t watch that often but it was nice to have for free anyway.

“No, I don’t think so.”

She started answering him outright instead of dodging, which made him feel uneasy, like maybe this was really something that was never going to happen for the rest of his life.

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea, husband.”

She still smiled when she said it though, a sliver of chance, a fading possible maybe perhaps.

He changed his approach several times, which was really just a matter of semantics. Why don’t we do it in the carwash? Let’s get something going, carwash style. I’m up for some carwash intimacy, how about you? She continued to deny him in as many different ways as he knew how to ask. It slowly became clear after many varied attempts, when their real lives were getting very busy with things that had to be done and her patience was beginning to crumble, that there was a real possibility that this thing that he had always kind of wanted to do might never happen. His asking became a wedge. She would leave the room and then he would be there alone with his thought for too long.

He asked less frequently, but still it came up, and when it did she acted like he asked all the time. So he asked even less, almost never, and only when she was in a really good mood and the kids had been very well behaved and it was not raining. She stopped cushioning her reply and just started saying no. Then the no got softer and quieter, and slowly her exasperation waned and wilted into silent contemplation. Finally one day, after he had cleaned the dishes and located the toenail clippers that had been missing for weeks, he asked one last time.

“Carwash?”

“Fine,” she said.

The nearest carwash was a brown brick building with three slots in it for cars to drive thru. There was no one that worked there, just a machine that counted coins and asked credit or debit? It wasn’t used very often except on days when the oil change place gave out coupons for free car washes with any premium oil change. It was crowded when that happened, so they called to make sure this wasn’t one of those days, and. just to be safe they also looked through the special bargain section of the newspaper.

It was empty on the Sunday that they went, just brown bricks and pools of soapy water. He put in six crisp bills and pressed the Superwash button. A green light beckoned enter, and he pulled the car slowly onto the track. The red light said stop, and he shifted into park, checking the mirrors, releasing the seatbelt. She took off her shoes and crawled across him, placing her knees carefully on either side of his thighs, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his so their eyes made blurry versions of each other in the idling hum. The car began to move, and everything got very dark.

There were sounds all around in every direction, and they could hear the driving blast of the water jets running cold fierce torrents across every inch of outside. The windows buzzed and glazed over, blunting hard edges, carving whistling rivers out of everything. Then the car began to shake, and suddenly the whole wet world was pressed flat by spinning churning things with tongues and tails that made rubbery sounds in the dark. And there was gravity confused, and the pulling of shy things away from comfortable places, and for them inside together there was nothing to do but be present and feel for the lean rift of each aching second that passed without promise of another to follow. The muffled roar expanded and absorbed every tin rattle until there existed only one broad sonic thrust. It raged on for longer than they imagined that it possibly could, too long, and for a moment they felt that they might be trapped in a systematic malfunction that would slowly erode their car, their clothes, their bodies into nothing with graceless automaticity. It grew louder still, booming, savage, shaking until they couldn’t hear anything else, and they couldn’t see through the glass at all, and they felt very small and far too brittle to be saved from angry sopping metal set spinning in the black.

But it was warm inside and they were safe because it was both of them in there and not just one or the other. The sounds melted back into slender wet breaths and then there was just dripping and movement towards a lighter place where the sun fell on the pavement and the water rushed off towards sewers they could not see.

“That was pretty okay” she said.

“Yes, it was.”

“It reminded me of something else.”

“Watching a storm.”

“At night through a window in bed.”

“And everything rumbles when the thunder falls too near.”

- James Bartels is a writer of fiction. His work has been published in Flatmancrooked and Takahe Magazine. Additionally, he has been been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and recognized as a finalist in the Glimmer Train Award for New Writers.

http://electricliterature.com/blog/

[Via http://dragonflybleu.wordpress.com]

Mission of a teen

I’ve decided to start a mission to get a new message out.

IF you have SEX you are not any cooler than people you DO NOT, IF you do certain things to YOUR body you are NOT any COOLER than the people who do not, IF you are OBNOXIOUS or blunt you are not ANY cooler than the people who are NOT!

So, over all the only thing that makes you “cool” is who you are. Don’t be influenced by other people be your self and let life takes you where it needs to go. Doing things you do not believe in will not take you any where you want so just be yourself.

In the world, today many people a shall we say, peer pressured but not by the actual people itself. Now teens or heck, even fifth grade and above are influence by what they hear or see. These views and the knowledge they get from it are becoming tradgic. Now so many kids now about sex, drugs, and drinking, and since they hear about it so often they are starting to believe its ok.

The fact is people are becoming afraid to be themselves whether your a partier or not you need to be a good role model.  You need to let people know it is OKAY to be your self. Let them know I will still BEFRIEND you even if you don’t do the exact same things as me.

I haven’t done much good like that in my past and I realize this, that is why it is time to start getting a message out. I want to befriend anyone and everyone no matter what they do.

[Via http://ximxrevivedx.wordpress.com]

Tattoos: The New Age of The Tramp Stamp

It has happened at least three times in your going out to a bar. You are sitting there with your friends when a girl walks in. Naturally you tend to look at the lady and “check her out,” then you notice it you see the tramp stamp.

Yes the tramp this has almost become a right of passage for a young lady. Almost everywhere you look you are bound to see a woman that is sporting a tramp stamp on her lower back. Now let’s be honest with ourselves we all think tramp stamp and think that a woman sleeps around with any man they encounter.

Regardless of whether this is true or not it is sadly a fact that has become associated with women that have these tattoos. It is not uncommon for a woman to have a lower back tattoo and not be the type to sleep around with strange men. I have seen several woman in recent years that have just had one of these lower back tattos and not be interested in picking up a date for the nite.

On the other hand there are those women that use this as a sort of mating call. They know walk into a bar show a little of the tramp stamp and have free drinks provided by potential sexual partners for the nite. These women know the game and have perfected the playing of it to a tee. I will give you this bit of advice if you decide to go home with one of these ladies make sure that you wear a rubber as it is a probable chance that they will have some sort of STD and the last thing that you want is to catch said STD.

Lower back tattoos are a wonderful thing to have. They can provide a sense of sexuality that will get a guy interested in talking to a femaleeven if not for sex. But please be aware that there are those women out there that will use this form of atrwork as a tool to get a man in bed with her. It is because of these women that a once beautiful part of the body upon which to get ink done has been turned into a place to put a welcome sign for any potential men interested.

[Via http://fixmagazine.wordpress.com]

The Freedom to Love Our Way

I went to the movies today.  I saw “A Single Man” with Colin Firth.  I did not attend the movie with Colin Firth, that would simply be too much to ask from the gods above.  He stars in the movie and is breathtakingly magnificent in his performance.  If you are not familiar with the movie it is directed by fashion designer Tom Ford and is set in Los Angeles in 1962 and tells the story of George Falconer, a British college professor who is is struggling to find meaning in his life after the death of his long-time partner, Jim.  The movie follows George through a single day during which he plans to kill himself.

This is not a movie review, although TWO THUMBS UP….RUN OUT AND SEE THIS FILM…OSCAR WORTHY PERFORMANCE BY COLIN FIRTH!!!!!!!!!!

This is a post about how blessed we are to be allowed to freely love whoever we want to love.  If you take this gift for granted then SHAME ON YOU!  You can love a man or a woman or both and you can do it openly.  More importantly, if something happens to that lover you can care for that person or mourn for them openly and honestly.  That is a true FREEDOM!

In “A Single Man” the character George does not struggle with his sexuality.  He is a homosexual man and while he is not openly gay, this is not a film about questioning oneself.  Refreshing for a period movie!  His struggles are with the loss of his lover – his life partner.  George is not allowed to show his grief because in 1962 it was not acceptable to be in a homosexual relationship.

46 years later in the year 2010 we have made some tremendous progress on the “love-front”.  However our culture is still hung-up on how we mix love and sex and love and what some call “dirty sex”.  I know people who shudder at the mere suggestion of bondage in the bedroom and could never imagine how such an experience could ever be loving.  Many people “love” anal sex and don’t have to be forced to bend over and take it in the ass for someone they love.  (I say that very tongue in cheek).   Bringing sex toys into the bedroom does not mean that you no longer love your partner and need to fill the void with batteries.  For those looking to expand their sexual repertoire and improve their sex life dramatically the subjects of strap-ons, female ejaculation, erotica, S&M, sex toys are the new taboo talk.

One of the reasons that my partner and I started GO BACK TO BED was to give us women the opportunity to feel empowered in our lives and have the type of sex that we want to have.  To feel that we can pleasure ourselves and our partners in a way that leaves us hanging off of the side of the bed panting- WITHOUT feeling uncomfortable shopping on a website or in a store that is full of silicone boobs and neon flashing didoes.   Face it, that just is not sexy.  Colin Firth is sexy.  Freedom to love and have sex with whoever you want, that is sexy.  Going back to bed in the middle of the day, that is sexy.

[Via http://gobacktobed.wordpress.com]

Happy New Year indeed.

I got a new phone this week. I was in the process of sending out the obligatory “Hey, this is my new number” text messages and I sent one to Simon. Simon was my first gut wrenching love and the biggest heartbreak I’ve ever had. We have an amazing connection and were always such good friends, but he’s now moved on from music school onto touring with a pretty popular metal band. I’m happy for him and proud of him. When we met he was just the sound guy at the local all ages rock club. I was 17, he was 21. It was like lightning. If I believed in “the one” I would say it was him. He just gets me, and I him.

I got a text back from him asking what my plans were and that he was in town. I felt like my heart stopped. It had been years since we had seen one another but the feelings never went away completely. I missed him terribly for that time. He told me one night, late, that he felt like he was supposed to be the one having kids with me. My heart aches to think about it.

I let him know that I was busy that night, but that I would be happy to meet him for coffee tomorrow. He reminded me that he hated coffee. I told him that I did too. We agreed to talk tomorrow.

I woke early and felt a gradually building anxiety about seeing him. I put on my silk scarf and coat and went downtown. I had lunch alone and read the paper. Then he called. We agreed to meet at the same diner that Felix and I went on our date at, late Christmas Eve. He got out of the car when he saw me and hugged me tight. We smiled at one another, both a little nervous. Well, me very nervous.

He new how much of a wreck I was when I got in the car. I was so afraid that he would suck me back in. After having some tea we went back to the car and kissed. I felt something, but it wasn’t nearly anything that I felt when we were younger, and nothing like what I felt with Felix. I wanted to have him, and I knew he was good, so we went back to his room and spent the afternoon. We were kissing right away, clothes peeling off left and right. His head was shaved now, which was different from his long hair that I remembered. We kissed and felt one another getting more heated. I went down on him,. sucking gently as my tongue wrapped around his cock. I always loved blowing him. We ended up kissing again and he was putting his fingers in me. everything was a blur of touching and mouths and warmth. We ended up fucking a couple of times. He wanted to kiss and hold me, and I obliged him. As connected as we are sexually, he just didn’t make me feel the way I did when we were younger. I was realizing that I was over him when the phone rang. I realized that we were both running late, so we decided to quickly shower before he dropped me off. Then I sucked him off again and we fucked in the shower.

[Via http://cosmiccitynoir.wordpress.com]

Sick farts

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