Who the hell is she anyway?

I’m Aziza.  When I was 14 I was told this means “precious” in Swahili.   I don’t know if this is true, and frankly I don’t give a damn; but I love the idea behind it.   I’m claiming my preciousness.

I’m a wordy chick.   Kinky as all fuck.   A grappler.  38 year old who thinks lying about your ages is stupid.  One-time single mommy who’s releived to no longer be going it alone.  Child abuse survivor.  A post-surgical gastric bypass patient.   Emotionally immature for my age.  A multi-racial mutt.  Prolific utterer of profanity.  A pagan-friendly, christian-friendly, native-friendly non-denominational spiritualist.  Practicing ethical slut living in a polyamorous family.  Huge fan of striped tank tops and knee-high socks.  Voracious coffee addict.  Sometime artist and writer.  And a born-and-bred midwesterner (It’s a water-fountain dammit.  You don’t drink BUBBLES.)

I wear my bleeding heart on my sleeve, and my thoughts on the tip of my tongue.   I am liable to write about all the above aspects of myself, or something altogether different.  Shinies catch my attention all the time, and I am likely to have something to say about just about anything.  All opinions expressed here are my own, so I don’t claim they are right, but I do claim they are valid.  You are welcome to disagree, and I welcome comments – they’ll lead to either stimulating discourse or stinging ridicule, but it’s all good.

Welcome to the fire in my head…

Disclaimer:  Names have been abbreviated in this blog to protect the identity of the guilty.  I don’t think anyone I actually know is innocent.

p.s.s.  If anyone can give me a photo/artistic credit for my header art, that would be much appreciated.  I admit to being a shameless internet art pirate, but now that I’m using it in a more public setting, I would like to give credit where credit is due.

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