The Scorpion And The Frog

My ability to write a story through is about as deficient in the span of my attention as my eye for one man. But, in my attempt to give you all of me, I will continue to continue… Note that the order in which my stories are published is not necessarily the order in which they are lived, and while the people are real to me, the characters should read as fiction for you as they are painted by my perception. My story is mine alone.

From my journal, a day in February, 2014:

Do you know the fable of The Scorpion And The Frog?

The frog agrees to carry the scorpion across the river and the scorpion promises not to sting the frog. Halfway across, the scorpion breaks his promise. The drowning frog asks the scorpion, “why?”

“Because I’m a scorpion. It’s my nature to sting.”

Sometimes I want so badly to see the beauty in someone that I neglect to see all that they show me. Such was the case with The Mayor in March of last year. And while I have now observed him for months, fully aware of “his nature to sting,” I wouldn’t be honest if I said he didn’t continue to have a mysterious hold on me. The Mayor was the first man on my journey for whom I fell and by whom my heart was quickly broken. The first man for whom I changed my traditional signature. The first man for whom I wrote, “Together in Love.”

Just the other day, I got stung by a scorpion hiding in my shoe.

I felt nothing but the fear of a pain that wouldn’t come. I waited to feel the much anticipated weakness in my spine, the numbness in my tongue, to be paralyzed. But, it was just the prick of a needle on my toe, and then… nothing. As it turns, I am not as allergic to scorpion venom as I am to the sting of a man.

Accept people for who they are.

Don’t go to bed with scorpions.

Together in Love!

xob

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

The Boxer And The Hippie

My sights were set on the Brewer when I met the Boxer and the Hippie. For that reason, I paid them fairly little mind that Friday night at Muchies Bluues.

The Boxer spoke with me first. His interest apparent, he was unquestionably good looking. But, the Brewer’s presence proved too strong a distraction from the chiseled shoulders and masculine jawline of the Boxer to the left of me.

Still, I’ll play… “From where are you traveling?”

“Norway.”

I have become reliant on this question as a means of deciphering those passing through from the few here to stay.

“And, where are you boys staying?” I motioned to his friends.

“His place over Majagual,” he motions to the Hippie.

As if instinctually (he lives here…), my attention was averted.

“You live here?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied the Hippie.

“Me too!”

To my response, likewise glued his attention. A single girl, who also lives here? I felt the immediate pull of his affection.

I read truth in his intentions. And while lacking the muscularity of the Boxer, the strength of the light beyond his eyes proved powerful enough to not only catch but to hold my attention. He was beautiful. For the moment, the Brewer was forgotten. A moment as brief as my flirtatious eye would permit, but productive, as I had had garnered both an invitation and directions to his hilltop hacienda. My attention redirected.

“When heading into town from your casa, take a sharp left and follow the dirt road through a series of ups, downs and round-abouts until you reach a paved ascent. At the highest point, and when the pavers end, take a right. There will be a sign with the Spanish translation for ‘Morning Light.'” Ooh… Adventura!

The next morning was spent following up on emails, solidifying pending guest reservations for my healthy home, selfie-ing and posting on social media: You CAN change your life. You CAN live Everyday Better. YOU CAN DO IT! #BODYbybianca

Then, past noon, I strapped on my hiking boots, leashed Bear and followed by a golden retriever named Bambu, we headed for adventure.

It was a hot afternoon, but the promise of a pool and a cold beverage upon arrival was enough motivation. To Morning Light…

We found the house deserted. So, continued toward the playa where he promised he would be with his puppy in tow. It was on the beach where our day turned night was intercepted as we arrived just before sunset to find the Boxer and his eight-pack sitting on the rocks overlooking the tide.

Damn! He was good looking…

TBC. 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

The Prince And The Pea

Have you ever been in someone’s presence with whom you cried and you laughed in the first hour of meeting? You know immediately you are connected spiritually? And then as quickly as two fingers can be snapped an Other enters your space (your laughter filled space), all-consuming and draining and completely changes your space (so much it isn’t at all what you’ve created), depleting the vibe; Not for the better? What is that called? #why #people #differences #questionsfortheUniverse

“Why have I never been invited for wine, but She Has?” I was She in her sentence.

Some time ago, I opened my heart and denied fear’s captivity (a process which started in the first move of my life from Fashion to Fitness, then New York to Florida, and now onward in Nica). Since that time, my doors ever expanding and my love ever flowing, I meet two kinds of people — well, I have really great sex, but also… I meet two kinds of people: Those who draw me in through their eyes into their heart in presentation of their Love and… Myself, likewise, Open to Love’s Receipt and Return offer the same. And Others, and they are “Others,” less evolved and more closed off. They argue. They feel and act on jealousy. They compete. They are uncomfortable to be around, their presence makes me anxious, my heart rate elevates, I become defensive of my own dreams, they question that which I could never understand. I am uncomfortable, I am leaving: “Excuse me, it’s getting late and I haven’t eaten. Would you like anything? No? Goodnight.”

Mine, is a story of my experience through love. Love’s True Story.

Together in Discovery of Ourselves & Each Other!
xob

http://www.BODYbybianca.com
Now, http://www.NicaYoga.com

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

Issues: An Honest Account of a Real Girl with Real Issues

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…

Let Me Tell You A Secret About Beautiful Women

Never fear speaking to a beautiful woman. You may assume she gets approached all the time, that men fall at her feet and line up to date her, but that is not true. You may feel intimidated by her beauty and her supposed confidence, don’t. You may feel that because of her blatant sexuality, she has heard every pickup line, don’t. You may assume she must have a boyfriend, fiance or husband, don’t.

In dating, a beautiful woman is like a hidden boqueria on the cobblestone streets of Seville; a best kept secret. So rarely is she approached that the man with the confidence to step forward may be surprised at how willing she is to be courted.

Of course, you may fear she will reject you, and she may; but a truly beautiful woman will do so gracefully, so if she makes you feel small, shrug her off as a book which did not live up to its cover.

Just say hi.