I’m Revolutionary

“I’m a Revolutionary. I’M revolutionary.”

To this, amorously,
He looked at me.
He said my voice is too sweet
to be taken seriously.
He chuckled, then
He kissed me.

It’s true, I have the voice of a Child.
I have the Spirit of one too.

What do you see when you see me?

Do you see a Warrior?
An Evangelist?
Is it a Lady you see?

How about,
An Anarchist?
A Communist?
A Socialist?
All things They told me/ “taught” me
NOT to be…

Because I CHOOSE to LIVE DIFFERENT-ly?
To Live my Life greatly. Not “decently?”

What do you see when you look at me?

“Go to school. Work hard. Make a decent living,” They said. So, I was always good at school, but guess what? I sucked at life when I graduated Wesleyan University. School never taught me any of the things I needed to know to be a Player in Their Game. How to really succeed. How to Thrive. Balance a checkbook, pay rent or how to save to buy, get a loan, maintain “good credit” or build it… Instead, I learned, or rather by NOT learning, by NOT being taught the skills I needed to claim the Sultana’s throne, I was Made… to FALL IN LINE.

System FAIL. I have never fallen in line. From ice skating to ballet to science class, pre-K to University, then on to every job I have ever held, my teachers, my peers and my bosses, to my mother will attest, I have always talked back. I have always been “too smart for [my] own good,” as if “too smart” could not be good. I am a Bitch. A Boss Bitch. A Bad Bitch. A Warrior and a Winner. I’m nice, and I’m polite, an educated Woman, I’m a nurturer, I’m a Lady. I’m an Adventurer, a Trail Blazer and a Visionary, I’m a Taker and a Giver, I’m a Teacher, I’m a Student, I’m an Athlete, I’m a Lover…

I’m Bianca Sultana. Translation: I Am The White Queen.

I chose LIFE over DEATH when I left the West. I traded the First World, for the Third World when I moved from New York to Nicaragua (with a pit stop in South Florida – two moves I made alone). I play to live, I won’t work to die. Now, a million misadventures and tiny blessings fill my days.

Here’s how I’ll leave you today:

1. Question everything They say.
2. Make your own way.
3. Buy a plane ticket and with me, come to stay.

You may just find that you, too, like life better this way. I live Everyday Better, so everyday is the best day of my life!

Join the movement.

Together in Health, in Love and in Life!
xob

I Like You. But I Like Him Too.

You haven’t chose me. We’re not married. But, you see me with another man and you want to lay claim over me? Why must you possess me and not enjoy me in the time we share together. The time I gift you. Because, you see….

I like you.

But, I like him too.

I have said it many times, there is a position open in my life for ONE Man. I thrive in a relationship. It is natural for me to care for you thoroughly. To feed you, caress you, take care of you, are all the things I love to do. But, I am single and in the past, my MO is to get into monogamous relationships with the first boy that doesn’t mind when I stick around longer than a night or two. These relationships all seem to last two years, which leaves me two years older. So, now, I am the picker and I won’t settle for comfort when that which I seek is love that is true.

I have loved, but I don’t know whether I have ever been in love. To be in love, I believe, is a two-way street and there has not been a man in my life that has loved me in the same capacity that I have shown.

Recently, the way in which I love has changed. I have learned that to love is to appreciate and not to possess. There was a time I strangled love to death. Fear of love lost drove me toward possession. But, people are not possessions and love is the antithesis of fear. My love is free because I love freely.

“A rose possessed will always die.”

Together in Love!
xob

Now And Forever

Hello? Are you there?

Sometimes I get sad that I haven’t met the man I am supposed to marry. I don’t want to bike, swim, hike, run alone. I want to fall in love with my best friend, a man who will appreciate the finer things in life: a sandy bum, a perfect swell, the smell of salt water and sunscreen, the way the heart dances between your throat and your stomach on a mountain bike trail, bike dancing on a Friday night… I don’t need money, I don’t crave things. Designer handbags no longer speak me. I prefer a truck to Lamborghini, and a date under shooting stars then to a Five Star. I have traveled all over the world, backpacking on my budget and jet setting on his, I know which way is better. I want good love and good love making, good food, good health…

And good friends! I have been in South Florida exactly two years and I haven’t found them yet. Tonight I overheard a girl say, “look for the bar with the fanciest cars out front, because that is where the nicest people will be” and, “he’s a nice guy, he’ll buy you jewelry.” But jewelry doesn’t fool me. I am living surrounded by stuff, things, materialism… I am drowning in this noise!

In New York, it was all about money, how much you have and making more. There’s no end to how much you “need,” no amount is ever enough. New Yorkers live on a hamster wheel that never lets up, working, churning for two weeks of vacation a year, ten-fourteen days of freedom, of peace, striving for a “future” that never comes because greed is a hole that can never be filled. But, in South Florida, it’s all about appearances. “Looking” good or “looking” rich – he drives a Ferrari, but he also sleeps in it! She’s beautiful, a surgeon sculpted her. INauthentic would best describe these people, this place.

From NYC fashionista to fitness model to country girl to jungle child. I long for the rip tide ride of Maderas and to be high on the clouds from the mountains above Allejuela.

Happiness is

Good Bad Girl

I am so curious, what is your opinion on censorship?

Yesterday, I posted this picture (uncensored) in black and white. Within minutes, I received a message from a friend who said I should take the picture down because I’m “too good of a girl.” Does posting this picture make me a bad girl?
Truth is, I feel very disconnected from the girl in my photos. Yes, technically that girl is me, but the camera sees me differently; when I look back at my photos I hardly recognize myself. I just see a beautiful picture which I share as art. You may not know this, I produce and style my own photography. I do my own hair and makeup, generally very minimally because I prefer a natural look, and I do all the editing and post production making my photos not simply a picture of me, but very much a part of me. But, like I said, the camera sees me differently. Some of my photos are provocative indeed, but they aren’t just naked, they are expressive. And because it doesn’t feel like me, I never feel exposed. Should I? Have I crossed a line between tasteful nudity and pornography?
In college I took a course on photography, my final project was all nudes. In high school I took a live model drawing class, again, all nudes. I love photography. I love the female body especially, and I am proud of the art I have been able to create with my body.
In my opinion, Americans are a little uptight. My Brazilian mom used to dance around the house naked all the time; nudity was a non-issue in our home and I wasn’t raised to be ashamed of my body. Should I be? Should I hide me? I want to continue sharing my passion with my friends more than anything. But I have way more “friends” that look at my pictures than choose to like or comment on them, and this makes me feel bad. So, I think I’m going to stop for while. I’m the first person to support my friends, like, share, comment and promote their businesses, and not receiving the same in return is weighing heavily on my heart. A penny for your thoughts…