Kitten's Krap Korner

So... There has been confirmed silence here within my tumblr page.

Without getting to detailed and needing to proofread a simple notice - I've decided to utilize the blogger platform. The post customization and workflow better aids in my endeavors to write what i wish, be it serious or to blow off steam.

Please, I invite you to migrate to the new form of this journey log.

https://elecbarberella.blogspot.com/

I will expect your presence shortly my sweets! Until then, I took some time and played with Picrew again. I'll post both my finished attempts on my blogger, but here is one as an appetizer to lure you closer.

A Writer realizing blogger is good for blogging...

I come to realize that while I started on Tumblr®; the written wares I mostly intended are possibly best placed within a more appropriate forum.  I don't scoff at the endless scroll of creations which is Tumblr and will still keep it there for now as backup.

Yet; as I mentioned, shall test the waters within my new Blogger and see if the more true-unfiltered rawness I create at times will fly on this larger known platform. Let alone the idea of ad-integration tossing a few rusty pennies my way for every small army that braves my forests of written entanglement does not hurt my feelings either.  A simple passive penny whore for which her body of text is the reward of stained metal pieces.

Too visual perhaps. Too soon for a new platform for me to be throwing such raunch & blatant whim forward ahead of my steps across this new bridge.

Digressing from my formal fingertips...

I shall see how this works, how this feels.  The endless aesthetic font options and  feeling of owns space is already welcoming.  I placed 2 images within the "Gallery" space of this blog, to the right, which one is that Picrew image I made and still love; the other a rather sad 2009 drawing of myself. Drafted by an artist friend who helps with this whole endeavor. Per say my ghost Writer in arms?  He work hard, some would say too hard, other claim he does nothing.  I hope to coheres additional artwork in time from him. As most artists do - he's improved each attempt made ( he may not believe as such). One of a few friends I can say my past self has not alienated or thrust my body on as a form of free meat.  I'm sure his canonically based girlfriend appreciates that fact.

https://elecbarberella.blogspot.com/

Prose, I suppose?

Day's warmth, winds play

night's chill, body's warmth

my breath, his felt

serenity as one, stillness amid fire

Scent of leaves crisp, air chilled

Time passes, forgotten by mind

ageless memories, fought sorrow

my lips, his kiss

Autumn brings chill, crisp, and early darkness. I yearn for his warm body as I brave the cold nights free; open; exposed of the winds and sharp fondle of Winter.

The world looks over her; at angles from 45 degrees Up or down.

She's strong, yet weak of fear Beautiful, yet a farce independent, yet limited by the group Free, yet held by the worldwide prison

The world is a flaw in cross section - women slowly being granted freedoms by merit of the squeaky wheel. Our, My value based on my breast, butt, and will to please the greater gender. Being skilled in chores, cooking, and beauty are seen as traits to give care and attention - to join as one.

Our beauty is to be gauged by a facade, natural skin has flaws and are concealed to hide truth.

The above can be noted by political minds as feminist... dangerous talk. But in all honesty - for me it is realization, it is my own life and knowing that most narrow-minded males will always see me from 45 degrees down at my breasts... or look above me as I give them no added value with my own simple true self.

Unless I offer a maintained space or my body for their pleasure - my value is none. Most are angry of this and thus feminist groups fight this norm to better women's chances to be equal.

Controversial as it may seem from someone as myself - I don't wish equality and I don't fight the norm. I chose to simply live my way and after standing in both sides of the fence; I realize the only true owner of my value is myself. No matter the world and it's politico cackles; I choose how I wish to look on any day, I choose the tasks I wish to complete, I choose the facade or to bear full self in avoidance of makeup, I chose the men I have sex with ( Be it romantic or simple pleasure).

My choices on a micromanaged level are my own. While I understand my wages and the opportunities in others hand may still be out of my control - I control how those norms affect me and if I allow them to drag me down into submission or simply walk away from the problem to distance myself from extra stress.

A thought I had as I showered tonight. For those whom read within the male form, possibly in spite of my words, reading that last phrase burning your narrow minds on that obvious question -- I have not dressed yet. I in fact do not plan to dress and simply sleep tonight reliant on the sheets and my own body for warmth. The local temperature deems this as the best choice and I honestly have been informed of many benefits of this form of rest.

As for other women, others within my plight of devalued form, please read and know that you can still bring self value over world value. And your value does not assess by your bust size, bra size, underwear size, ability for your butt to move in tiktok-able fashion. I still struggle with my breast size as a price tag of my beauty. Large busted girls - especially whom have an otherwise petite figure know what I am saying.

The things you hear within music...

Indulge me for a moment; within the spacial form... this is already a bad start to a fairly perverted post.

I - as most may be aware - am fairly attune with music. It has been there for my ups and downs [heh]... and for inspiration and soothe. Not many genres are off limits for me as long as I enjoy them.

I also tend to lean on the sound more than lyrics. Lyrics are always subjective to the ear of those whom hear it no matter the intent given to the song by the artist. The end note of genius brings you to a matched ideal as intended by the artist. Only one artist has even given me that vibe and, again, those that know me.. know the artist.

This little gem is within Goth/EDM range and remix feels a bit better paced and dance worthy for me. Yet the lyrics to hit me for a spin when i paid more attention. Again - subjective... from a women of collection adorned of items for self pleasure. Lyrics within the song [below] start to make one - or myself - believe this may be a hinted song of a male knowing that his female lust shares his feelings via his name and mental image upon the crafted silicone and plastic wares of female self love. Listen and tell me your thoughts. Nothing poetic here, no literary majesty... just telling what I hear within lyrics of a rather good song.

"And the rays of the moon Shines right through I'm the invisible man tonight I'm the invisible man tonight"

While reading the lyrics online don't hint to this and mostly steer towards a man unseen by society - maybe homeless... I do feel I will from now on refer to men I think of while pleasing myself.. as invisible men. :>

Time passes as we take hit after hit...

I won't dwell on it... it's not mine to take the burden of. Yet I feel the depth of sadness and weight from knowing of events that have taken strike at a dear friend. Be it feel from a real heart or one of ghostwritten wills - I'm here to offer my own heart and energy with open arms and ears.

That's my piece upon that matter; again it is not my cross to bear and I would not even start to understand the pain she feels without experiencing it myself. For me to drone on would be asinine.

Of personal focus; summer break is filling my days with less writing inspiration and more sunburn. Less Sexy Abs with more Ice Cream and Iced Tea. Thankful of a fairly unruly metabolism that enjoys burning on high, but that doesn't power the mind apparently.

I also am strikingly aware just how truly grotesque the blog design is. It's a fight of struggle where I have not found the design that I want. I also need imagery to include which comes primarily from an artist who is not as fortunate for summer breaks and unmarred self-esteem. So imagery must begot design - when I have the imagery and design I like.. I will fix the obvious flaw.

In due time... for now my eyes grow heavy, but my urge to tell the masses my minute statement came first. Sleep well all my readers, my gazers, and passers by of this blog.

The echoing 80's ballad of Summer Sex and Sunsets

May class sessions take hiatus for the generally ruled break during summer. No one tells you in school prior to life - that summer vacations are no longer fun after high school. Responsibility and monetary demand overshadow pools, bikini shopping, and ice cream.

Once amid Grade school and Junior status of High School, my summers were family trips and self dread of jokes or gazes upon my delayed puberty... the glow up that missed the bus.... a lot. My glow up must not have had the correct change every year until before my senior year. We entertained the American dream of grand canyons, Westerly settled relatives, and (in my case) overtly grand manors with more rooms and staff than most Ikea's.

I don't dangle my family's wealth in front of others, I tend to prefer earning my keep and not letting money define me. It surely isn't the dream solution people think it is. I'm diverting... let's get back on track.

Senior year of High School i entered glowed and pubert (it's not a word... but I'm making it one out of the justification that no one is grading my blog) over the summer. Suddenly I wasn't "the flat nerd" and guys seemed suddenly interested in me. This is a dangerous mix of Teen and Post-Teen wills that I was still quite uncaring about. Guy's wanted to date me... that last 2 words of their lips, not minds which wished to deflower me.

Summer in the 80's song is the guy telling his love, his crush, his one - that after the guy's affection has played and defiled with the many boy's that came to vacation for the summer. He would still be there for her, his love un-wavered by her affections of that moment and season. From Senior year until even now... Boy's of Summer have come into my school breaks and some I have toyed in the past. My last few summers have been reflection of myself and my own dark recesses easily distract from the chiseled boys of summer fun.

A pandemic also tends to screw up your summer, as would be obvious to us all. This summer I mostly continue to look in and also outward to those directly near me. KaiMei, my savior and dearest - mentioned in prior writings, spends time on repairing cars and maintaining the yard. He's enough summer boy for me to watch from the house pool. I spend time with Jag on her streams and lately she's been dealing with her own self reflections and thus I have stepped back to allow her the space to think. She's my new love and I know she's confided in me some very deep feelings and she's very strong.

I awake.

Mildly rested, silk nightshirt tucked within the overlap of my breast. Sun slowly illuminates a drawn curtain. My night swirled with nightmare and dreams; ending just before my rise to the living on a sweet vision that my body delays its response.

Disheveled; I sit with my hand on my forehead. Escaping yawns try to coax me back to slumber as my mind draws the focus of dreamed visions. Heart rate paces as my breath deepens; my hand under a patterned cloth of silk and cotton. The other hand following in dances of misguided morning fog and fluster as it pulls the fabric away that had been lodged under my breast and off my shoulder from a restless sleep.

My most adventurous hand, brushing the mounds and openings of my form found within loins. Gasping as I deal with heat and residual lust; quietly growling at my perverse touch. Erect in accompanied hand as the pressure of my palm and knowledge gained at the start of age 14 cloud my mind and rush time past as it becomes a blur into non-existence.

Quick flashes of memory to aids. Rigid plastic or soft pliable silicone forms to mimic what isn't present. Fake forms with no warmth or care - unneeded as I progress through by hand. Arching, tensing, my muscles tighten in my legs, loosen in my spine, and jaw agate. It's a miracle I am not blind at this age - parents warning of all manner of disability to such acts I flood myself with.

My primary fingers deep, now moist. The accompanied long since torn free and clawing sheets as my head digs into pillow and nightshirt falls aside of forced buttons. Matted folds and promises of new sheets as reason has long left my presence and I draw the closure of intensity. Drawing sweat and release from the deepest parts of myself over stomach and bust. A salt taste; my inner slut sucks my fingers while catching breath and pulling on blankets, cotton, silk, and skin to bring freedom of air to a burning desire.

Minutes felt like hours and I feel the chill of air signify the coating of sweat I now lay within as my breast lifts and lowers quickly and I feel need to grasp thin sheets to my groin and turn away from the locked door as if to gain what little dignity I fain to have.

Lustful, sinful, a skank with breast and tender folds, a slut, recovering sex addict, a normal girl... a woman. My night ending with dreams of sex and passion; my morning beginning with my solo recreation through brief and skilled masturbation. I first started the exploration of my body at 14; I learned to in secret and was taught the sins and blinding wrath of a god I would incur with such "unnatural" acts. Yet those same acts my mother performed in her youth and which lead to the skilled symphony of her folds satisfied by penetration from my father as she accepted his climax.

Titles are becoming increasingly difficult to think up.

As noted in my last post; I have been mulling a topic to post about that is currently trending in hate and revolution. Something that both fences within taboo and double standard.

Prefaced context is needed first.

As that of most people within my general demographic - I grew up as a white, christian household, innocent girl. I was, as once was described for those whom puberty delayed, a "late bloomer" and as tends to be the case in school - was teased constantly by my smaller frame. Distracting from that prior notation; I realize that once puberty kicked into gear it was overzealous.

As a late bloomer, my figure was rather small, lacking curve, and target to those who felt that gym class was the best platform to start their future career of hateful person. It was my senior year when my body started to fill out and chose this period of time while I was on family trip to a new town and the looming of Senior year in a new school. The attention I garnered was alien for me and my already shy self had issues adjusting.

We now return; my life has taken many roller coaster movements and along that ride - I acquired a friend who had a gothic aura and was bisexual, leaning lesbian. I never looked at her preferences as much to profile her on. We were and still are really good friends.

I always was shy for the most part and dating was awkward at best. Potentially too much detail for the public eye, but I lost my virginity well out of High School in my first year or so of community college. Which was in fact to a friend's brother, a guy I knew for years after moving to this town. It was this prior mentioned friend in my senior year that helped me come to terms with myself and my appearance.

Long wall of text and less literature minded, I am aware and apologize. I shall fast forward to the past year or there of.

2020 was, for the lack of christian values, a shit-show. I had been a year or so out of a breakup. My then boyfriend who had been rebuilding his life after a past of misguiding. Those actions found him arrested and sent to prison; where he later passed away from unknown health issues. My place of employment shut down a year prior and I quickly started to grow weary of myself, my innocent ways, and mind. My insanity progressed and I decided to step valiantly from my shell and headlong into a year long binge of "bad Girl" vibes. I slept with men, I involved myself in trashy events and to save all from details of the derogation of my body, soul, and being. My body was simply a tool to craved lust and a desire to simply destroy any past self that existed.

Within that time the dark form of myself hunted the guy I had known and lost my virginity with. My social web restricted within my bisexual friend, her friends and family, and the men I had associated myself with. The target I acquired became a favorite form of degeneracy to such a degree he got fed up of me and we disconnected. Losing him and really looking at myself and reflecting is where I finally hit rock bottom. I again will spare the triggering details of what simply was my end and salvation by that same guy once again. He's become a great pillar in my life and while I flt he saw no value in me, it was him risking himself to save me from my own action.

We skip to the end of 2020 and into the now. I've been slowly rebuilding myself. I've reached a middle ground, a kind of truce within myself and my morals. I still remain mostly single and yet am less hesitant to stand out. To the point that I was introduced to someone who has a large following.

Through my Bisexual friend, I was introduced to a rock and metal singer that has a reputation of chaos and taboo. We hit off on our 80's music knowledge and I agreed to be with her in one of her online streams discussing music. The stream went well and obviously people took a liking to me; albeit most likely dude to my figure.

Now in the current, again noting the absurd length of such a dribble of words, I stream with this girl on and off and one stream we decided to do charity with a goal. The girl, Jag, asked me my limits of comfort and told me her idea for a goal tier - kissing. The simple idea was upon reaching a goal value of donations - we would kiss on the stream; adding both the content most of her viewers craved from someone of her reputation & something different.

Needless to say the goal was reached and Jag and myself kissed. Part of me expected a simple quick ordeal, reading the room so poorly as I found us in a deep embrace and serious motions. My mind instantly rushing to questions of why did I agree to this, why was I not hesitant, why was I enjoying it? After the stream, Jag commented on how surprised she was I went through with it.

I understand that the world is in a love/hate relationship of LGBT rights and topics. I understand that there is a double standard in play within my (rather incoherent) story. Men will fantasize of girls kissing and watch pornographic media of 2 women as they lust. Yet the idea of 2 Men within the same context is considered wrong and disgusting. Regardless of if women may find it hot - men rule the world and that alone has become heated contention of our nation here in the USA.

I've learned, simply through the friendship of someone who makes sex their calling card and excess of their industry, that I am unmoved by limitations of sex and affection. That I am allowed to experience things that are considered wrong or taboo and if I feel enjoyment or a slight of pleasure - to accept that. I do not mark myself as more than heterosexual; Men are my preferred form of sexual pleasure and yet I can tell you that I had no ill affects from kissing a female in a stream.

I simply wish the world and the USA could look past all this hate and revolt... simply bring passive acceptance of difference. That is mostly my message to this catastrophe of a post. I hope to better articulate something in my next post once it's come to my mind.

Please look after yourselves and be open minded. Coming from a survivor of suicide and my very bottom - there is light and there is greatness out there. There is always SOMEONE whom is your pillar, even when you don't know it.

I've already back myself into the corner of expectation in context of my posts here. Feels as if posting random snippet updates is meant for Twitter; which I do not wish to even attempt. I can't promise the articulated flow of words and punctuation (much as I seem to be attempting now). You can see the weighted chain I carry.

I've... attempted a better layout design via templates. I have found a good proper template for writing posts is as elusive as a instantaneous route to world peace. There is most likely ones that exist in both counts - just not within my gasp or sight-line. The pink accents, a bit, to what I like. If only people made literature tumblr blog templates as astounding and responsive as photography blog templates. I was not willing to attempt what a graphic layout does with purely text posts. I also cannot take the extra breadth of my bust; pulse of my veins; nor tightening of my muscles to create photos for each of my posts and that of which are contextual to my posts. Some of my posts will be mature and imagery for a blog is limited per topic.

For now I sit here eating Pork & Seafood Chinese Steamed Dumplings as I contemplate the words and path of my next post. A real inferno subject that is within the tip of everyone's tongue; be it positive (supportive) or negative (hateful). My path from grade school to now is a roller-coaster to ride. I've accepted confidant trust with someone that really I would have never before considered within a year past. Future thought... future thought. I get ahead of myself already!

Anew, my blog space and energy...

I resurrect my tumblr ways today... It's own space, on my own email, far from fat fingered cohorts. I... don't know what to post yet.

So new and inviting, yet forgotten and past - I've ducked from social media and internet for time to focus on more than my woes and cravings. I'm a perpetual student of the arts; mostly of the written variety and I dwell heavily on the judgement of the world upon my features and kind. Layman's Terms; I am busty and thin. My bust size matches near to Jacket Jackson - a fun fact I found in my darker internet times. :3

Society views my features with no regard to my mind, soul, or will. I'm a bimbo, easy, dumb, blond, and expensive. Those close to me know I am beautiful, warm, curious, scared, and broken. I am a suicide survivor, a pure body and heart turned dark and lustful, a slowly healing heart, and attune to the 80's and Big Hair era.

I've been the flat-chested shy girl, the busty girl of popularity that never wanted it, the hopeful girlfriend, the saddened ex, the vengeful self-destructive whore, the dark empty flesh that wished nothing more than an end. I am the one who was saved, one who underestimated the love from one whom a prior me used and took great passion of.

I am a restart. An example of the system of a self destructive society that pushes to hard, to fast, to unloving. a 0 to 60 climax of a broken virgin to a forgotten one night stand.

Of all.. I am not a Dumb blond bitch with big tits, a joke, a meme, or a stereotype. Yet I do... tend to wear that mask to appease my own inquiry and exploration. I urge all women and men to do the same; explore yourself, unearth your darkest self, relish in the demons that will quickly tear and disrobe you with no shame or love. Accept the demon's call to meet face to face, smile, and spit directly at them in defiance of your true will! No one can mold you or your flesh and the medical wills of modern day science take no time to push your mind to the reality of your true beauty beyond material and perceived.

Above should tell you I won't hold punches, nor censor myself on this blog - yet will try to be mindful of a array of viewers of all walks of life and age. I've had a long 32 years that gains continually til my end. Sharing it with others can be helpful and it would help with my writing and assignments as well. yes.

Below is a little Picrew image I made from the amazing little site of the same name. In Japanese yet fairly user navigable without knowledge in the writings it presents you. Many cute designs and I know some friends who have used it as well. The cohort that nuked my last tumblr is an artist and may also draw me - or as some may surmise; a OC'd version of myself. I may post some as I like as well.

Shall we start this journey? I believe so. Until next post... 💋