I’ve always known … but have mostly quieted the voice that tells me so… that I will eventually be a published author. I’m not exactly sure what I’ll write – but I know that one day I will write something spectacular. It will be read by many and if I’m lucky a few will even identify with it. I like books that are written from one of the character’s perspective. I like hearing how the person talks – and seeing how others react to the main character. I like the dialogue – and novels written in that type of a voice always strike me as so much more …connected and real, somehow. I tend to like movies that are written like that, too. The narrator is always a person in the story. Even though it might be easy for the narrator to know all – she/he doesn’t. They only know more of what they are doing – what is going on inside of their head – and that has always intrigued me, too. There’s always 2 sets of dialogues going on at the same time in all of us, right? That inside more truthful and vulnerable dialogue – and then there are the words that you really aren’t afraid to mutter out loud. The PC dialogue. The relationship between the two – the similarities and the differences – and how they are able to exist inside the same person and both be “true” has always intrigued me.

Perhaps my heroine in my story will be like that, too. Maybe all the things that she thinks will be ungodly funny – but when she speaks she’ll do so with a depressed tone – a quieted voice – a resigned voice that has somewhat accepted her “fate”. I find contrasts like that – erotic.

I thought about this at my geography class. I know that in the beginning of any class, the teacher is suppose to kinda break the ice by having us introduce ourselves to the other kids in class – but not before they step up to the podium of 10 seconds of fame – and put in their two cents about themselves. My geography teacher did this with much umph. She said what her name was – explaining that she was recently married – and made a sound like … I don’t know what. Like a celebratory kinda cheer. She could have done a back flip and then a standing jump or whatever for all the enthusiasm she tried to “hide” inside. She was really excited. I started to wonder if this was her first marriage and looked at her like – um… was it a close call with “Old Maid”-um or what? She looked to be about … I don’t know … 50 something. She wore these jeans that were super tight, though … not to accent her figure at all – but more like just bad fashion sense. But then – what do I know about fashion? Not a whole heck of a lot. I’d prefer to be in a great pair of sweats with my hair tied back and a nice tank top or tee. Bare foot. She had on sandles – and I’m pretty sure she was wearing socks with them. She stood at the podium and talked about her kids, though – and how many she had and where they were. Divorced? One of her children had moved to New Zealand. I couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to be so far away from what seemed like a pretty cool Mom. My teacher kept on making these animated kinds of faces – the kinds of faces that on a child look cute and entertaining but on adults just look forced and unnatural. I was immediately embarrassed for her. I hate feeling embarrassed for people that have no idea how embarrassing their actions are. I started to – at that moment – write for her. I wrote her dialogue that was coming out of her mouth one minute – and then in another split instant – I wrote what she was thinking, then in another what I was thinking she was thinking.
Like this:

Her dialogue: “So – I found myself with my kids and really wanted to do something else with my life. I thought – why not go to school!”
She thinks: “I know that alot of the kids here are a lot younger than I am – but I only know this one speech, damn it. Make it work… make it work…”
I think she’s thinking: “Shit – why the hell am I teaching Geography – I would so prefer to be teaching Sex Ed or something. Instead I’m sitting here talking about rocks when I’d prefer to talk about getting your rocks off!”

Her dialogue: “So I took a class – and I stumbled upon Geography – and I really liked it!!! (bright big smile inserted here). I took a few more classes and my professor told me – Hey… why not MAJOR in Geography. And I told him NO WAY – I’m not smart enough! He said … well – what are all these A’s???!!!”
she thinks: “Geography is so damn interesting – I know that I can express just how interesting it is to these kids. I hope they caught that part about how brilliant I am – and how I got all A’s!”
I think she’s thinking: “Am I connecting with these kids at all? They look like Geography is the last thing on their minds – and did that kid in the last row just pick his nose and eat it. I’m going to vomit!”

I realize that I write like this often… sometimes – as insane as this probably sounds – I do this to myself, too. I try to remember what I think and what I actually say – and I try to determine and then later remember if the two are related (even somewhat) to one another. Maybe I’m trying to, for the sake of my own sanity, determine if these two voices can be contained with in the same … I don’t know the right word/idea for it – PSYCHE? perhaps? I’m not sure if this is a sign of craziness – or brilliance. I’d like to think brilliance. But then I remember that alot of insane people think they are brilliant and they are just plain nuts.

But yeah – I’d like to write.

I don’t say it often. But I’ve always known it. Always. I’ve always written things like I mentioned before. Started when I was little with some neighborhood girls and my best friend, and continues here – on line – and in my journals that I collect and then eventually abandon when a prettier journal comes along. I taught myself to type – really fast – so I could keep up with my brain that seems to be on speed lately – jumping from one topic to the next like mighty mouse on crack. I’ve kinda played around with writing erotic for the time being – but … truthfully – unless it’s something that comes out of my head naturally – writing erotic can just seem so – typical, really. Doesn’t it? I’m not sure I’m witty enough to write for an advertising agency – and besides – I think the pressure of coming up with something witty is close to the pressure I feel writing something on an online diary read by a few die hard fans of CeCe. I don’t think I could handle that pressure. Maybe a novel or two or three. Maybe a television sitcom – if I could just give an idea to someone and collaborate I might be able to withstand the pressures/rejection. Maybe I could write a screenplay – or a play – or a one woman show.

I would just like to be published. To be heard. To have a diary page that could go on for hundreds of pages if I wanted it to.

Wow. A big smile just came on my face.
She says: “I would like to tell some stories”.
She thinks: “I would LOVE to tell some stories!”

Ok. So I stole it from Spike Lee. It was theft-worthy. The title completely describes what I’m going thru emotionally. It is a relief – in a way – to be going to school. I pride myself on being somewhat intelligent – and I say “somewhat” because trust me – I do stupid things. I act first and think later – I tend to live vicariously thru romantic films and harlequin romances and while this may make me utterly and completely adorable – it also makes me … I don’t know…a bit gullible in the worst case – clueless in the best case. Perhaps I’ll touch on that later. But I do love to learn. I love discovering new things – I love doing research whether it be on a fetish or a person – I’ve learned – google is my best friend and probably the best text book to a broke college student like me. (thanks for the tip, NAKAPuppy).

So, anyways – I’m in a bit of a daze. I should be sleeping but I have so many things on my mind. School, Men, Boys, Friends, and the ever popular subject – Life. As in – “what am I doing with my life?” “what do I want to do with my life?” “Is this what life is?” and other such nauseating headache causing questions.

I went to my very first class today – and received an assignment that will more than likely be the death of me. I tend to be VERY emotional – (humor me, here… I know it’s as apparent as global warming…) and strangely (or maybe not so strangely) enough most of my best work comes about when I am emotional. It’s like there is a switch in me that gets turned to the on position and works that much harder and produces that much more energy when I’m being traumatized. I’m wise enough to know that sometimes I create these dramatizations (is that even a word?!?) in order for some of this “work” to surface – and I really need to stop doing that. But I never do – I mean I never stop. It’s like an addiction of sorts. This need to always be struggling even when things are relatively easy and have easy solutions. I’m thankful for all the heads this has gone over – but I know those who are closest to me will latch on to that bit of truth like Manna in the desert after 40 days or something. Anyways … I’m a drama queen of sorts – and most of the drama I star in – I also direct and write. Don’t make me repeat it.

So again – back to school. Apparently I misread the schedule. What I thought were Tuesday and Thursday classes were actually a Tuesday class, A thursday class – and then both those classes one after the other on Saturday Morning. 7AM on Saturday morning. I’m usually in bed until 1:00PM unless I have to work – which yeah – brings me to another quandary. I work on Saturday’s – but now I have to tell my boss that I can not work for the next 8 Saturdays due to classes. In an attempt to quiet her need to fire me on the spot – I will probably offer a Tuesday or Thursday DURING THE DAY shift that I could (realistically) work. I’m not worried about NF – I mean – I still have to do a schedule now that I know what my schedule will be (sort of) – but man… how could I have done something so utterly IRRESPONSIBLE as to misread a schedule that was in clear English and in black and white?!? Is this, I have to ask myself, another way of creating chaos in a world of mine that was seemingly pretty damn normal and … um… typical? I thought the fantasies on NF were there to give me a bit of excitement and thrill so I wouldn’t have to create uncontrollable fantasies in my every day life. I THOUGHT that was the reasoning behind my decisions. *sigh*

I guess in my attempt to just get at school and do something productive with my life (that’s my parent’s speaking – but I tend to mesh with them and have a hard time separating the two voices from my own voice…) I completely failed to recognize that a PACE class was not a slow class for kids with learning abilities – but a QUICKLY paced class for people who want to fly thru their studies, apparently. So this 8 weeks of hell will be just that … 8 weeks of hell. And I know I’m suppose to be thinking positively here – but I’m just now sinking into the realization that I will be flying thru a semester course – actually 2 semester courses in a matter of 8 – count them – eight – weeks. U-F-F-D-A-H.

I’m planning on just ignoring the quickly rising panic, however, until I go to my class on Thursday. I’ll see what the syllabus requires of me – and take it from there. I’ll have to bring out the adult CeCe to take over so the little CeCe doesn’t fuck me over once again. You know – the drama queen quality and all. I’ll have to REALISTICALLY think about whether or not I will have time with 1 job and a half, studies, AND also getting my certification in personal training (which will be over the end of May, actually…). I’ll have to quickly weigh the possibility before I even go to my boss – no… I’ll have to go to my boss before hand. Better get that out of the way as quickly as possible – especially since I’ll have to attend classes for at least ONE of my classes on Saturday – no matter what. Unless I drop out of school completely – which really isn’t an option.

You know – no matter how smart I feel sometimes – I’m increasingly aware of the fact that I really am not all that smart. This isn’t an invitation to be told how smart I am. I mean, I really am not hinting around for compliments – I’m being very upfront, here. There are so many people out there that are absolutely brilliant. Who have done what it is that they want to do – have these plans – and careers and things – and I’m just ready (already) to take charge and do it. I want to be the one invited to those art gallery openings – the one who gets invited out to dinner and it isn’t to taco bell by a boy who is still using acne medication cream. I want to be surrounded by people who don’t worry about getting into an apartment – but are concerned about mortgages. People who don’t buy text books – but help write them. I want to be one of those girls who orders room service from a hotel that offers it – not invites boys to a house that she is house sitting for for the weekend. Yeah – I am going to be housesitting in a few weeks time – and NO I won’t be inviting boys over. It’s just an analogy. Seriously. I would never do that. Besides – I don’t have a boyfriend TO invite even if I could/would. I just have this incredible hunger for knowledge and to be one of those people who sort of has it together and is smart. Smarter than I am. School makes me feel like I’m … how do I explain it – like I’m moving into that circle. And I really have to buckle down and get out of my daze and just “do it” – to coin the familiar Nike phrase.

Wow. I figured it out. I’ll take that damn class on Thursday, too. I’ll just do it. I’ll just do it. I’ll just look thru my daze – dig in my heels and do it.

Just do it. Drama be damned.

I was about 12 years old, I think, when my best friend and I discovered that her father, the Pastor of a small community, had a museum, damn near, in his garage…filled with porn. There were movies and books and magazines and … all kinds of other things little girls had no business looking at. We reminded ourselves of this horrible infraction while we sifted thru the porn magazines – struggling to push the penthouse forums far enough under our blouses to hide them. “Your daddy is gross” I told her – while eyeing Miss July – or whatever. “I know” she would mutter – face growing red – while stooping down to pick up a somewhat X rated paper back book. We would sneak past her mother in the kitchen – past her brother’s watching television in their bunkbeds, and quickly lock her door in her bedroom – spreading all our delicious snacks in front of us on her hard wood floor. I soaked up the information… like bounty – the quicker picker upper. This was valuable information I knew, with out having been told. For years our access to the library-o-porn was unlimited – until her Father found out that we had been dipping into the family’s history books – so to speak – and punished us. And yeah – that IS another story – because it isn’t the punishment that I want to get into right now. Right now… What I wanted to get into was the very back pages of my best friend’s father’s magazines. The very last few pages that had the videos for sale. We would tear these pages out of the magazines and standing tip toe on her bed … hold the pages up to the light above us. Giggling we would make out exactly what the “censor” had painted in little circles of black. It was clear as day – or at least we thought it was. We would become excited – and I would go home with these visions of women and men together doing naughty things behind the black circular “eyes”. The eyes were suppose to stop us from seeing…but all they did was make us that much more aware of what was suppose to be hidden, and much more gifted at being able to figure it out. Not that it was so damn difficult to figure out, mind you.

It was around this time that we also discovered that if we watched the spice channels in cable long enough – the scrabbled pictures would become unscrambled and we would be able to see a mili-second of something we knew we shouldn’t see. I swear we thought we were like secret spies or something – and that we were the only 2 kids in America who figured it out: Censors didn’t censor or cover anything. It only made the desperate more determined to figure it all out – and for those that could not – only made us more curious. We knew it was bad…and so we looked with keener eye – and practiced patience…waiting and waiting until such a time when, if only for a moment – the picture would unscramble – or the light would catch xray thru the black curtain o shame. (haha).

I’ve been trying to censor myself lately. Trying to figure out what is okay for me to write about – worrying about how other people will see it – and all along I’m sure there are a few who are determined and holding up my walls to some secret decoder light and reading everything I really want to hide anyways. Yeah. I can get deep like that sometimes.

So here it is:

• I have a crush. A really big crush. Have had it for longer than I should admit. Question what “crush” is doing next to words like crusade and cry in the dictionary. I’ve been wondering, too, what happens when crushes leave. Wondering if when reality hits there is no love waiting by to fill the empty space. And if so – why shouldn’t I live in Crushville for eternity and enjoy my stomach doing flip flops and dips whenever I think or speak to him? Time has made this crush so big that I want to push the person away from me so that I can have room to inhale and exhale. Funny that having a crush makes it difficult to breathe correctly. This crush has gotten so big that I’m thinking the crush is bigger and greater than anything and anyONE that could follow it.
• I do not want to go to school sometimes. Sometimes I would prefer to not go because I am tired of school – truth be told. Didn’t I just escape – and now I want to go back? Sometimes I think about going to school and only studying what I want to study – but I don’t think College is organized like that. Sad, isn’t it?
• I really need a schedule – set schedule for niteflirt – but I’m afraid if I do it then I will be missing out on calls or that my call volume will drop or something. But I can’t continue just being on line at all hours of the day and nite – randomly and such.
• I don’t understand why sex has to be so complicated sometimes. When I am just having fun it seems that sex and masturbating is fine – but when I really care about someone then all of a sudden that whole sex thing takes on another meaning. Is this one of life’s cruel jokes? Am I destined to have really good sex with people I just don’t like – and then be some sort of a nun and all virginal with people that I really love?
• How come I just cleaned my room a week ago and it’s now dirty/cluttered again?

Just some things I have wanted to say but sometimes feel I shouldn’t talk about – or that the person/people I am talking about will feel all bad that I mentioned them (sort of) in my blog/diary or whatever. I’m gonna try not to censor myself so much. This could either be a positive or a negative. Hell – most of the time the average, intelligent reader can see thru all that censorship stuff anyways. I figure if I could do it when I was in junior high – then adults should have it down to a damn science.

After a few days off – I came back to NF and have been thinking about things in a whole new light. (holding my situation up to the light above my bed). I need to wait until my school schedule and course load before I really say how/when I’m going to be working NF…
But until further notice you can check out my listing/home page for what my schedule will be now. I’ll be fine-tuning it as we go along. If there are any times that work out better than others – and you don’t see that I have placed that time on my schedule – then please let me know. I don’t know how accomodating I can be – but I will try. Setting appointments is always a good option too. I check my emails (when I’m at my desk, that is) so I could also log on to take your call if time permits. I have to also start studying my physical training booklet more. I don’t want to wait till the last few days before testing to cram. I’m not good at that much pressure. Actually that is a lie – I do pretty well with some added pressure and stress. Unfortunately. Also – I know I’m about 3 days late now with the pictures for this month. I’m running out of space so until I get that figured out – I’m not going to be offering the pay to view with my pictures. If you are interesting in paying for the priveledge to view this month’s set – please contact me on NF and I will send you the zip and you can download them once you pay. There was one more thing… but I can’t think right now. I’m really tired… zzzzzzz. So here’s to less censorship. At least less censorship from me on my own “blog”!

Thank you very much to: NAKAPuppy who bought me my very own Idog with matching green clothes. Milo barks his thank you. We are both VERY happy and he is a welcomed addition to my family. Everyone talks to that little plastic pink Idog as though he were real or something. And he is just adorable – minus the peeing on the carpet and chewing up my favorite shoes! Here Here to electronic pets! NAKAPuppy also wrote some ofthe funniest feedback for me and recently announced his departure from NF. I wish you well, dear NAKA. You have been a great customer – but more than that – you have turned out to be a great friend. Not only do you spoil me rotten sometimes – but you make sure that I know every day how worth it I am. No goodbyes – right?

Also a big warm Thank You to “Steve” – my little nebbish sweetie. Thank you SO much for the lipgloss, underage. I LOVE the name so much – and the tint is perfect for my little lips. So thank you! I know when we talked you said you had also sent me the nice earrings I have been admiring – so I’m sure they are on their way, too. So thank you for that gift, too, in advance!

I really wish I could do my “feedback” mentions today – but my eyes are literally closing and since we are no longer censoring I also have to add that I’ve had to fuckin pee now since about 5 paragraphs before. Holding in one’s URINE is not a good thing…contrary to popular belief. I mean – the act itself of holding in your pee (if you’re a woman) helps develop some of those muscles that make men want to cry when they fuck us. Yes – it makes your use muscles that make your vagina tight. Or so I’ve heard. but holding in cups of urine can also lead to a not so nice puddle under my chair – or a not so nice at all bladder infection and under extreme circumstances – could lead to electrocution. (puts down hair dryer).

No goodbyes…

I count myself lucky. I have enough friends that if I needed to talk to someone – I could make a call (or two) and find someone who would be able to listen, tolerate, interpret, and intercede if needed/wanted. But I have few enough(?) that I could actually be by myself a bit to just – well, to just be. When I was in school, most of my friends were the teachers and principals. And um – before we go there – most of my principals were women – not men. Most of my teachers were women, too – the ones that I counted as my friends. A lot of the kids would be out playing around during recess – and I was the nerdy kid who would be inside doing my homework across from my English teacher – looking up occasionally to ask her what being “real” and “self actualized” really meant. I wasn’t a nerd per se – I was just a bit misplaced. A bit more grown than the rest of the children, and a bit on the impatient side. I never faired well with small talk and superficiality. I know most people don’t want to admit to being ok with those thing, but I have found in the short time I’ve been on this earth that many many many more people are ok with superficiality than they would care to admit. I’m just sayin… As a result, I preferred the more “depressing” adults. LOL. So many of my callers ask me where all this maturity comes from and I guess that is where it is. My sibblings are all older than me – I was born late to elderly parents – and most of my friends were teachers.

I did have a very good friend though when I was growing up. She took piano lessons from the same person I did – and our families were very close. As a result – we kinda got meshed together and became friends. It was sort of by design – we were forced together and thankfully we fit.

My best friend Sam (short for Samara) and I decided when we were 9 that we were going to write a book. We decided to tackle Full House – though the reruns on TVLAND gave us a few other possibilities: All In The Family (back when Gloria was actually kinda cute!), Love Boat, and The Brady Bunch, to name a few. In our thick spiral bound notebooks we wrote and wrote – episode upon episode – and our writing was very – um… adult. We would lay together often – and fight over who was going to be “John & Jim” (2 boys who were complete polar opposites of one another – one very good boyfriend – and another very forward and down right abusive boyfriend) and who got to be the woman who they both were in love with. Can I just say that our play time together was some of the best role play training I have ever had to date? I can? Ok. My play time with Sam was some of the best role play training I have ever had to date! Our little play times combined with our story telling adventures made me the girl woman I am today! She was, well she IS, a very good friend. I of course have my twin as a girlfriend of mine, too… and then one other friend who is a girl. I have 2 very good friends who are boys. That’s it. I’m not a go out and party with 10 friends type of girl. I never have been – and I don’t think I ever will be. I can go out and party – don’t get me wrong. But I party with people I can stand for long periods of time – I don’t call those people FRIENDS – I call them acquaintances. How the hell did I get on the topic of friendships anyways?

It was just on my mind.

Most of the troubles I’ve had with “friendships” has been when I have insisted in making some girls I spend my time with into BFF and they were just not equipped to be BFF. They were not BFF (Best Friends Forever) material. And I really had to stop myself today from beating that fact into the ground. I don’t think some people are MEANT to be BFF – they are just designed to hang around and spend time with or party with and go about their business while YOU go back to your REAL BFF-ers and tell them all about it.

So I guess I killed two three birds with one rock with this post. I explained why I’m so mature. I explained why I have few friends and why I am happy with the few I have – and I explained or shared my first sexual experience with a girl.

Ahhhh – you missed that part, didn’t you?

Wicked was absofrickenlutely fantabulous! Oh my gosh – talk about unbelievable in every sense of the word! Unbelievable set! Unbelievable singing! And unbelievably great story about the 2 witches of Oz. My family and I set out to Hollywood for the 8:00PM show at the Pantages Theater. The theater was crazy cool. Just absolutely beautiful and dreamy. We had excellent seats on the floor – stage left and the sound was perfect. The singing – oh my gosh – it had to be the best musical I’ve seen live – but I haven’t yet made it to any of the shows on broadway so maybe I’m overspeaking a bit. I’ve listened to the soundtrack for Wicked a bajillion times. My neice performed countless numbers from the musical on her dance team – and the soundtrack is always playing somewhere in our house. Well – always is exaggerated a bit – but I’d say at least once or twice a week it plays. I kinda have a girl crush on Kristin Chenowith (spelling?). She is so perky and cute and her voice is on point all the time – but the girl that played her part tonight (GLENDA) did a really good job. And Oh My Gosh – the girl who played Elphaba (the “Wicked” witch), Eden Espinosa – holy cow batman! Her voice was MAGICAL to say the very very least. It was perfection, I’m telling you.

After the show I went straight to the vendor and bought the soundtrack (Remember what I said about me and musicals – we all saw that coming, didn’t we?) and a few other trinkets. I would have gone hog wild and bought the poster that had the autographs of the whole cast – in addition to the book that was there and cup – and key chain, too, but I held myself back. I don’t know how long it is going to be here (in LA) for – but I am so ready to go again and again and again! It was THAT good! I’m so glad I went.

When I got home (a few hours ago) I still couldn’t come down from my theater high I was on. I tried to watch an episode of 6 Feet Under with my older cousin who is visiting from College on her spring break, but she fell asleep (amateur!) and I’ve already watched the entire season. It’s one thing to watch it again with someone who hasn’t seen it – but to watch it again all by myself? Nah – been there done that. When I looked up at the clock I noticed that it was already 2:00AM. *yawn*. I should be heading to bed. I logged in to see if I could catch Mr. Italian Stallion who had set up a call with me – but I guess I missed him by 15 minutes. I’ll be on as available for a minute or two – but then I gotta get some shut eye. Just wanted to briefly come on in and let ya all know about the play. I can’t say enough about it. It was just marvelous and I’m so glad that I was able to go!

Have a great Wednesday everyone – and I’ll speak at/with you soon, I’m sure.

Nite Nite…remember – DEFY gravity!