So this title came to me quite a few weeks ago and I didn’t get the chance to write about it.  But when another incident happened to remind me of that song, I knew that me writing a post called "Don’t Go Changin’" was inevitable. 

We all have taken… wait… let me rephrase that.

Most of us have painstakingly thought about our screen names.  Now that I’m 20 years old I realize I should have taken a little bit more care in choosing my name.  We all make mistakes.  But honestly — I know that most of you have screen names on NF that really MEAN something to you.  Sometimes you’re delighted when a flirt asks you about your name because your name is from a book you love, or a movie character you look up to, or the name of the street where you parked to get your first blow job from that chick you had a crush on or whatever.  The point is – names are special for the majority of you and I completely understand. Hell,  I completely agree.  A name is everything.  I have one "client"/friend/lovah who has my name as part of his screen name.  That is pretty much because, as I explained to him, he’s smart enough to make another name for himself should he ever wish to speak to someone else (LOL!).  It happened a very long time ago and it’s really way beyond even the confines of NF so I can’t even really discuss it that much because I start getting embarrassed and fidget and talk too much.  Let’s just say that it’s a one time deal and I have, since then, separated myself from the practice of informing anyone or suggesting that anyone be CeCe’s ANYTHING.  It’s just a bit too much attention for me, and as much as I am all out there and bold like floats during GAY PRIDE in West Hollywood, I am really actually very shy when it comes to affections.  So – don’t go changin’ – to try to please me.  I love your name just the way it…are.

The other day I was glancing through my customers when I see my name attached to a person’s name.  I recognized this person’s name from an order he had placed with me.  Nice fellow.  I rather liked him.  I don’t think ill of him and I wish him well (wink).  He had found someone on NF that … floated his boat, let’s say, and he changed his name to suit his preference which meant that the names on my customer list and feedbacks changed to reflect his newest devotions.  Again – no biggie.  I am not available enough to claim anyone’s loyalty.  And when nature calls us we must answer the call by any means necessary.  I get that.  I am honestly not insulted.  But there is a slight rumor, I think, that is going around the halls of NF that this type of devotion is what some of us ladies love.  A few more of my feelings on using my name as your moniker:

• You can call yourself Tatu, or even Jesus if you’d like.  Just get on the phone and give me a call and have a great time.  You can name yourself MarysJesus if need be – you’re giving me a call and that is what matters to me at that moment. 
• I don’t impress easily.  Tattoo my name on your body and I might be!
• Nothing says devotion like a few dozen roses in her favorite color (I love pink)
• Nothing says devotion like a few gifts off a wish list (I’m thinking that purple Ipod Shuffle needs to be mine).

I believe I’ve made my point.

Earlier today I get an email asking me to break some major rule on NF, and the individual has changed his name to include a part of mine.  As if I’m going to look at that sign of "devotion" and think – hell yeah.  Anything for you, "cece"dude.  It takes seconds to change your name to reflect my name in it, but it takes many days and hours of devotion to earn a place in my heart. It’s far more important to find a place in my heart.    So please.  I beg of you.  Listen to what Billy Joel is saying (WWBJD?) and don’t go changing to try to please me.  I love your name just the way it … are. 

Before I leave you and … pass out, I think.  (looks at time… maybe I can hang for a few more hours….) I need to make a public service announcement in regards to my blog and the comments held with in.  The comments do not in any way reflect the opinions of this chick (points to self).  The comments on my blog (the replies I’m talkin ‘ about) are the individual’s thoughts and as such, I will not be held accountable for anything that anyone says in my blog – and I will not um … how do I say it… ?  If they claim somethin and it turns out to be false… sowwy.  Not my fault either.  (just put it in lawyer speak to make it sound fancier if you’d like).   I say all of this because it has come to my attention that there are people who are afraid to comment in my blog after reading some of the exchanges between readers and myself – or readers and innocent bystanders/commenters.  Many have been bullied by a nazi named Rolf, and  a few have been befriended (Nazis need love, too!).  Some have gotten through the wrath of many of my more adoring ‘fans’, and others have left weeping never to return again.  A few customer’s told me that they would not be commenting in my blog ever — and some of these customer’s are very tough and intelligent people (maybe that’s why they will not comment – ilut!).  One of my customer’s today told me that after reading some of my feedback and comments he realized that he might be jumped into some secret society gang type thing and had a dream that he actually was accosted by one of my submissive fans.  This submissive turned Dom – tied up my new customer, blind folded him, took his wallet and credit card, and proceeded to use his information to pay for his calls to me on NF.  He called me up from his phone, and I laughed at him while being impressed by my submissive turned Dom caller.  My switch customer then later tortured him by showing up at his door in ski masks and the like.  I have to get into it all a little later, but wanted to touch on it today as it relates to my topic.  It does.  The connection is there!   Listen – do not be scared of any thing you read.  I don’t think that any of my callers will hurt you, tie you up and blind fold you, steal your credit cards and use them to pay for their sex calls to me, or anything else.  But just in case, don’t leave your real email address when replying.  And you may want to use an alias.  Just use one with out my name in it because… (sing it with me now!)

I love you just the way you are!

I’m on until 1:00AM or so.  Fading fast though.  Will be back on tomorrow evening — feel free to make an appointment if you need to.

So this post is going to be to the accompaniment of Charlotte Martin. Think Chick music with a certain depressing/yearning note and you’ll get the affect. *wink*.

I realize that I have written some pretty interesting and “deep” posts lately – and not that I need to explain anything in my blog to anyone …. I’d like to.

I’m a writer… I write all the time with and with out paper and pen. I write in my head – gathering up little bits of information that may come out in a story, role play, poem, journal entry, etc. I write on little pieces of paper while listening to lectures during school, or while waiting in line at the grocery store, or sitting in the really comfy chair with Jackson in my lap after breakfast. I’ve always written. When I’m not writing I’m buying things to write with or buying things to write on. Writing makes me feel … relief. Writing makes me feel better and sometimes (lately) it makes me feel slightly worse… I am a writer and I’m one of the most frustrating kinds of writers, I think. I’m not well organized in how I write and I know my punctuation leaves much to be desired. I’m also an emotional writer – which means (as you probably have guessed) I either write when I’m on some rant fest, or when I’m in love, or when I’m frustrated or sad or one of the other 50 or so emotionally charged feelings that cause me to write in here. I can be either very funny or extremely depressing, I can write and inspire you or write and completely frustrate the ever living hell out of you. I can write things that will make you want to know me better, or I could write something that could cut you to the core…leaving nothing unexposed and laying all your shit bare (tyt). I can use my words as little tiny daggers aimed directly at the most sensitive part of your soul and I can use words as soft delicate caresses – snake charming explosive orgasms from your body.

Writing – is how I dance. And the things that I write here … though some may see it as a sort of marketing genius – is really just an invitation to “you” to dance with me. It may not be the type of dance you are looking for all the time – but it will be a dance that is intimate. You WILL get to know me while dancing with me – or by reading what I write. You may not always like what I have to say, hell, sometimes I don’t like what I have to say, either! But you will get to know who I am … and if you just hang in there for a little bit you’ll get to the place where I make you laugh again, or give you a shiver down your spine from some delicate verbal caress I throw out onto the page. You may even hold some of the more intimate “CeCe-isms” hostage and unleash them during a call with me…making our time even that much more connected. If you want. It’s up to you.

I know that my “job” is often an escape from the real world … and sometimes I feel a certain amount of pressure to be that type of an escape for you all. I know that you have a wife that is telling you how she feels all the time maybe – or that demanding girlfriend who is always so caught up in her feelings and blah blah blah. Maybe you’d prefer to have a girl to sit back and drink beer with – trouble free – just another one of the guys…with tits. Maybe getting to know me is just a little too much information … a little too real when all you really wanted was a convenient 15 minute fantasy; a break from your own reality. I get it. I don’t blame you. Truth is … I’m that girl that you can sit back and drink a beer with. I’m that girl that can give you 15 minute breaks from reality. But I’m also pretty damn complex (or at least I’d like to think I am…). I’m “flighty” at times, a little demanding, spoiled, egotistical, self-loathing at times, hyper, imaginative, stubborn, sensitive, pensive, shy, eager… and a dancer. I like to dance. I live for that type of connection. That’s just who I am.

I’ll be dancing tonight from 9:00PM – 1:00AM.

My 3 brothers tried their hardest to introduce me to other music – and some of it stuck – but I have to admit that I’m a bit back dated. Blame my parents.

I don’t remember ever getting the “talk” from my mother, either. I remember one day I woke up – and I had a little talk with my mother, and she led me to the bathroom and showed me my supplies under the sink. That was it. Until later that evening. My mother informed me around 5:00pm that Wednesday evening that our family would be going out to celebrate. When I asked her what the blessed event was that needed such celebratory hoopala, she smiled a sneaky little smile and told me to wear a pretty dress. My 3 brothers, my parents and I scrambled into the car and drove into town, sat down at the local diner and ordered whatever we wanted from the 2 page glossy menu. Before the waiter served us, my mother made the announcement. “CeCe became a woman today.” My brothers looked at me. Then they looked at me again. My eldest brother snorted a little, and the 2 others repeated the sound and added, “She don’t look no different to me!” to the mix. I was humiliated. Not only was I wearing what could only be described as a diaper, but I was also humiliated in front of my entire family. I think the other people at the diner came over later to offer their congratulations, too. I never forgot it. I might have mentioned it before in this blog – and if I did – well – it’s part of my healing to talk about these things…at least you are just reading it – you didn’t actually have to experience it like I did. *sad face*

So when my little cousin informed me that her best friend had “started” – I took it as a personal mission to make sure we celebrated the event appropriately. We went to pick her up and delivered her a care package of carefree, chocolate, midol and a sympathy card. We also burned a disc with all sorts of songs we felt would be appropriate for her little journey into womanhood; Genie in a bottle, Breaking Dishes, More Than a Woman, I’m Every Woman, Emotions, Girl…You’ll be a Woman Soon, and a few others. I told the poor little camper that lunch was on me – and that she could choose the place. We drove about 5 minutes while I threw out suggestions. She settled finally on In and Out – a local burger joint. I thought that maybe she wanted a milkshake or something, but she chose a diet coke (??). She calmly informed me that the blessed event had ended as soon as it had started and that she was fine and really didn’t see the big deal. I laughed – but didn’t dare destroy her dream. She also believes that texting boys in the middle of the night is innocent and the only bad thing about low rider jeans is that you can’t bend over with out showing the crack of your ass. I appreciate the innocence of 7th graders. When I played “Edge of 17″ for her and announced that Stevie Nicks was someone she needed to recognize as pure talent – she grinned and told me her parents listened to her all the time. Hmph. As I ate my salad I suddenly realized that I have somehow squeezed past this “girl” stage into this woman stage – with out so much as a dinner or announcement. It didn’t happen that night my parents took me out to dinner – but happened somewhere between graduation and eating a salad with 2 13 year olds who liked thousand island dressing on their french fries.

I grabbed a near by marker and threw a hair brush to my 2 pals and taught them how to do a Stevie Nicks song with style. “Just like the white winged dove….” we sang loudly and out of tune… and giggled while singing “ooooh baby oooh”.

I can’t wait for the next “dinner”.

Until then – I’ll be working tonight until Midnight – and will log on for a bit tomorrow morning before my orthodontist appointment. Tomorrow evening I’ll be working until Midnight or later if need be. I’ll update again to let you in on my schedule this weekend.

Talk to you soon… oh – and … If you so desire – listen to a little bit of “edge of 17″. It’s a fabulous song. No hair brush required. *wink*

I don’t know if it’s the beard thing or not – but I have a few musical crushes. They will probably shock you – but I’m a complex person. I’m still stalling.

Ok – fine. Here it is: I love the bearded guys of the late 70′s early 80′s. I’m talkin Kenny Loggins and Jim Messina, Dan Fogelberg, and even a bit of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. I really love those bearded guys. The music always makes me think of campfires and marshmallows and my father’s guitar playing. Even though John Denver isn’t a bearded guy I even like him. Annies Song is one of my favorite songs of all times. I think I mentioned it once before on here and it deserves to be mentioned again. What ever happened to Dan F? I’m sure I’ll hear him this New Year’s eve like I do every year…I like that song – but I prefer Longer Than. God…he’s so romantic AND cute.

You know what it is? Those bearded guys really knew how to sing about love. You fill up my senses like a walk in the forest? and what about Longer than any bird ever flew – I’ve been in love with you? And Even though we ain’t got money… I’m still in love with ya honey… Dang. That’s beautiful. Summer breeze makes me feel fine… blowin thru the jasmine in my … never mind. That didn’t count – there were drugs involved with those group of bearded guys.

Anyway – I just thought that you should know. If this makes you love me less then … I don’t know what to tell ya. LOL. But I’m sick of hiding it. I’m a proud 70′s beard lover. So bushy and out of control but mushy and sensitive underneath it all. *sigh*

Ok – about this being on alerts thing. I’ve been really under the weather. I’ve been so ill that even Danny’s Song can’t cheer me up. First I had a really bad cold. I caught it – I’m blaming Jackson because I distinctly recall hearing a slight sneeze from that adorable snout. But before that I had my monthly visit with the Dr. of Agony – or the Orthodontist as he likes to be called. Rubber bands and thicker wires makes for a very achy CeCe. I thought that if I just left the phone on “alerts” that when I caught a little bit of a break I would be able to … you know… take a call or two. It’s not deliberate – the calls I take, I mean. I just take the ones that I happen to hear when I gain consciousness. I’ll be going to a concert tonight via telecast (St. Olaf Christmas Concert … it’s very important in our family. It’s a Lutheran thang) and then I’ll be logging in tonight if I can possibly make it – around 9:00PM or so. I figure a hot shower and a shot or two of brandy will do the trick.

Sorry about the lack of updates – but I did manage to write 2 times this week. 1 post shy. Maybe I’ll make my goal this upcoming week. One can dream.