Special Words
October 4th, 2012
We talk to each other every day. We communicate with people on many levels. We show our love and appreciation through both action and words. We say ‘I love you’ as often as we can. Sometimes, we say it so often, or so casually, that it loses its power. We even say it as a reflex when someone else says it. Other times, we get it right. We say it at the moment it is needed most, or by looking into their eyes and really meaning every word. We say it by our actions, a hug of support, a tender kiss, or by making a masochist cry.
A lot of people speak without thinking. Responding on reflex can get you through life, but we were given brains for a reason. Filtering our thoughts, really thinking about a question, being conscious of our replies, will get us a lot further. Some people go by the three questions: ‘Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?’ If you cannot answer at least two of these three with Yes, you probably don’t need to say it.
When you are in multiple relationships, it can be a hard balance to show everyone how special they are to you. When you’re having a threesome, sexual or just kinky play, it can be difficult for everyone to feel special, or unique. It takes careful thought, and a little extra effort, to give each person a little something just for that one.
Last night, he was hitting us both with the leather cocks. We have very different reactions, and processing mechanisms, but he was basically doing the same thing to each of us. What gave me a feeling of special was towards the end of the play, he looked at me and said “How is my pain slut doing?” This made me feel good on a couple levels. I always enjoy the possessiveness implied by “my” in phrases like that, I am his, and he is the only one I currently receive pain from, no one else. And “pain slut” was an acknowledgment of my enjoyment and arousal caused by the pain, which is very different than the engineer’s reaction. I’m not going to assume he necessarily meant all of that when he said it, but he knows me, and he often chooses his words to make me smile.
This morning was another example. As I was getting dressed and showing him the bruises, he looked at them and said “Now, those are big diamonds,” acknowledging one of my favorite Fetlife quotes: ‘Some girls get diamonds, my bruises are prettier.’ These bruises were his gifts to me, as my screams and moans, etc the night before, were my gifts to him. These are a particularly tender set of bruises, and I’ll enjoy them all the more. Most of mine don’t stay tender past a day, but these, I feel, will make me smile as I walk all through the weekend.
Be careful of words that you share with a partner. Just like the things that are personal to a relationship, words can be special, too. If there is a special nickname people use for each other, don’t assume you can use it, too. If you have a special call and response with a long-term partner, saying it to someone else can cause hurt feelings. If you are not sure, ask. Better to feel foolish than to trigger
Is This The Life I Expected?
September 27th, 2012
Friends of mine have been talking/puzzling about their lives not being what they expected them to be. For some, this is causing great distress. So, I decided to take a look at the question.
Growing up, what did I expect out of life?
When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut, doesn’t everyone? The stars held me in thrall. Then I found out that astronauts didn’t get to visit the stars, and sometimes their ships blew up, and I thought maybe I’d stay on earth til they got those things worked out.
Then I wanted to be a teacher. Until I found out that kids are cruel, and rude, and unmanageable sometimes. I thought maybe that wasn’t the best place for me, and maybe I didn’t even want to have my own.
So I turned back to the stars. I wanted to study them, from here on earth. Look out into them, and find the mysteries of the universe. Find other life. Figure out how life formed here. I was again in their thrall. But then I went to college, and calculus and E&M defeated me. So I turned away again.
To writing. I loved to read, it kept me entertained as a child, and I loved to write, to express myself in words, because my voice was so soft, and no one could interrupt me when I was typing or writing by hand. I could speak for myself in text, say anything and everything through writing. And I love it.
I work in a bookstore, because I love books. I love sharing knowledge, and helping people find the same joy in it that I did. I don’t teach, but I help them get the information they want. I do not go to the stars myself, but can help other people get there.
But those are only jobs and vocations, those are what I do. What did I expect out of Life?
Growing up in the church, I expected to stay in the church. I expected to be a good little UM girl all my life. To get married to a nice UM boy, and worship every Sunday, and be a part of projects and work groups. And then I got older, and there were politics, and other view points, and intolerance, and hate. My faith became more personal, less contained in a building, less constrained by specific doctrine. I still consider myself a Christian, because I feel I live by Jesus’s overriding message of Love. His words of love still speak to me, and I do my best to follow his example. I didn’t marry a nice UM boy, or even a nice Christian boy. But I did get married to a very Loving man. And to me, that is what is important.
But where did all this poly stuff come from? Surely that wasn’t “in the plan.” No, growing up, I expected to have a husband, forsaking all other so long as we both shall live. It was even in our vows. Promised before family and god. But that doesn’t seem very loving to me. To Forsake others? I didn’t date anyone in High School, but my college relationships were rife with flavors of poly. Not my first, he was a good Christian boy. But most of the ones after that. I didn’t have the understanding, let alone the language for it at the time, though. My second, still in love with his HS sweetheart, cheated on me and left me for her. I often played with him after that, even with a third friend sometimes, and still love him, though not in a romantic way. My third, had a ‘zip code rule’ that I always rolled my eyes at, but he and I had off and on things, despite his other relationships. My fourth, well, he was an odd bird, and I was trying to get back with others during that time as well. Hubby came into play that year as well, as someone I loved, but couldn’t be with. Then my fifth and sixth, openly admitting to love for hubby while dating them. Playing with others while things with hubby went up and down and round about. But things were so messy, that when I got back with Hubby after college, I made the mono-demand.
Which lasted just over three years, until we both started falling for others. My experiment exploded, so I returned to a state of poly=pain, and agreed to swinging. That didn’t go very well, either, and then we found the community here, and I softened and fell, back into poly, where I truly belong. This time, with resources, and language, and experienced people, who taught me to communicate, and to thrive in this lifestyle. Oh, it still goes up and down and sideways, but I am far better equipped to deal with it now, and far more able to accept the bumps and bruises, and keep on swimming.
That was the important lesson to me. It isn’t about trying to keep my head above water, that’s just a lot of thrashing around to keep from drowning, but you never move forward doing that. I’ve learned to keep on swimming, forward, through the waves, and tides. The only way up is forward, and it attracts fewer sharks if you swim fluidly forward than if you thrash around hoping to be rescued.
So, was this what I expected out of my love life? No. But it is certainly what fits me. Love, and plenty of it. To keep me going along my way.
But life is not just job and relationships. What about this kink stuff that fills my waking hours? What about the natural world and the stars I loved so much?
I grew up loving the outdoors. Going camping, going hiking, stargazing. Sitting by campfires, singing songs and exploring the woods. It is still my refuge. When things get too much. When I need to unwind. When I just need to get away. I go to the woods. I walk through the forest, I lie in the grass, I sit by the brook. Nature is still in my veins, but people now fill my heart.
I didn’t have a lonely childhood, in my mind. I had friends, I enjoyed school. I went to parties. But I didn’t have a Lot of friends, I didn’t do the social butterfly thing. I had a couple best friends. That I would spend most of my time with. I never expected this to change, and it hasn’t. I have kept my best friends, from HS and College, but they are far away. I have made a few more since, but not many. And it is with these friends that I spend my time. It is kink and poly that brought me to these new friends. And geekdom. I still do the geek-thing, gaming every week, and a group that goes to geek conventions and throws parties monthly. But the latter are also a part of my poly and kinky circles, too.
I’ve always had a kinky bone in my body, though, I didn’t know it at first. Or at least not what to call it. I found it fairly fast, though, when I got old enough. Kink, I discovered, made sense to me, and was something I wanted in my life. It became part of my regular life with my second boyfriend, growing with my fifth, and really expanding when I met daddy online, and then in person, though I didn’t find community until nearly a year after hubby and I moved back here, only just over four years ago. I tried once, just before we go married, but a missed connection kept us at bay for four years, due to moving out of state after the wedding. Kink, though, once I understood what it was, has always been an expected part of my life. And I am grateful for the people who have guided me, advised me, played with me, and taught me. Navigating the kinky community, and one’s kinky self takes a lot of work and skills that are not necessarily the norm in regular society. And it has also given me an outlet for my early desires to teach and my later desires to write. These things are a part of me and kink keeps them in my life.
What about submission? How does that fit in with my life expectations?
Did I grow up thinking about how wonderful it would be to be controlled? How much I wanted a man to tell me what to do? How much I wanted to serve him? No. I grew up learning to be an independent, free-thinking, self-reliant woman. I went away to college, I went to Ireland alone, I went to Australia to meet daddy. I moved out of the house when I got back. I found a job, I supported myself. Sometimes I fell down, and needed some help, but I was mostly independent of my parents. I got married and moved away. No longer singularly independent, but still in control. In charge of my life, working now as a couple, to be successful. So, where did this submissive desire come from? How does it fit into my life expectations?
In my kink, it has always felt like the natural role for me. At first, it was a desire to be done to, as I think it usually is. I wanted to receive all these sensations, I desired to be spanked, to be pinched, to be bitten, to be held down, to be bound. So in control, so strong, so independent. I wanted it to be taken away. At first, I wanted to know that these things were okay. That I could still be strong and independent, and in control, even though I wanted and liked these things. I didn’t have control over what turned me on, but I wanted to know that I was still in control of myself and my world. My body, my RA, took some of that control away from me, so I gained a desire to control the pain I experienced. I wanted to have the pain that I wanted, not that my body just threw at me. These things came first.
Then I met strong, dominant men, and it wasn’t just about play anymore. It wasn’t just about top and bottom. It was about Dom and sub. It was about being able to give up control, giving them control, and the freedom I found in doing so. Not just in giving to them, but in receiving as well. The give and take, the cyclical relationship, that requires love and trust and work to maintain. It feels good to submit to those I have chosen to submit to because they chose to dominate me in return. One-sided relationships happen, but they are not fulfilling in the long run. The joy and fulfillment I found in submission, blossomed from curiosity to expectation and is a part of my life I do not ever want to be without.
Expectations change as life changes us. But once we find those things that make our lives wonderful and whole, it no longer matters what we once thought we would be or do. It is what we are now, what makes us happy and fills our lives that matters most. No use worrying about what we thought would be, stay in the present, work for what you want now. Not what you thought you should have. If I’d stuck with my original plan, I’d be pretty much out off luck now, NASA’s ended the shuttle program. Expectations are helpful, but don’t let them stay stagnant while life changes all around you.
e[lust] Digest 40
September 16th, 2012
Photo courtesy of @iSlut_ of A Slut’s Memoir
Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #41? Start with the newly updated rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates! I’d like to also direct your attention to a new Editor’s Letter that’s up.
~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~
The Bitch is Back – The temperature at the table drops several degrees. Like that?, I say. Is that what you want?
On Women Who Like Sex – I like sex as much as any man I know. I am not a weirdo, I am not a slut, and I am not in any excessive danger.
Secret Secretary – There she was in the reception room on my couch, lying on her back, legs spread, skirt hiked up over her torso, her hands frantically feeling between her legs.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Street Harassment: It’s everywhere, all the time
~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~
Thoughts: Regarding Limits In BDSM
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the read more tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Begin rant
Communication Breakdown
Family Planning
Great Expectation
My Fantasy
Rituals, Symbolism, Kink, and of course ME
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
How You Know You Are On The Rag
Intersecting
Kink & Fetish
Anal Slut
Belted
Flogger Use and Safety from a Beginner
Janet’s Magical Toybag
Protest Much?
Property of Seven
Playing With Fire
Please
Tonight I am going to fuck your (slave) ass
The Long-Anticipated Gangbang Post
Welcome To The Club
Erotic Writing
Almost Broken
Alive
A Bad Habit
A Sinner Sits for Sacred Sunday Service
BBQ & Beer
Birthday Sex
Cap D’Agde -spit roast with a stranger
Dirty Talk
Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Five
Matched
Oral at a Sex Party
once in a while
Revelation
Random memories: First love
Saturday Morning Pussy
Stress Reliever – Lubed Fingers
The shopping assistant
The Sting of the Crop
You
Preparing for C.O.P.E.
September 6th, 2012
Last night was a new experience for me. One, I’d been expecting to have at some point in the last couple years, but it took a class for it to happen. Yes, my first waxing for hair removal experience happened with an audience. I generally trim my pubic hair, but shy from shaving it due to a tendency for infected in-grown hairs. Waxing, I was told, should be safer on this front. We shall see. The cosmetologist, licensed, but no longer professional (she both no longer gets paid to do it, and also enjoys it way too much), spoke to the class about proper procedure, cleanliness, ways to reduce the pain (most of which she didn’t do, as the class was called waxing for sadists), and proper techniques, as she applied and ripped the wax(and hair) off.
It was an odd experience, to say the least. Not excruciatingly painful, though a few of the strips reached a 7 or so on my pain scale. But the pain was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came. The harder ones were when the wax or hair didn’t come and she had to do the same spot repeatedly in quick succession. The first few strips had me arching off the table, until I got accustomed to the ripping. Some of the lower strips had me cursing (or propositioning, depending on your view) my friend, and eventually she asked me to stop screaming so one of the audience didn’t have to keep plugging his ears. The poor dear. Looking down at what she was doing was also a strange sensation. The first few times, expecting to see red, angry skin, I saw only smooth whiteness. Apparently my skin objected less than the hair follicles and the associated nerves. When she finished, it was the first time since puberty that I’ve been hairless, another unusual sight for me, and hubby. Several asked how I was doing, I was fine by then, but told them to ask me after COPE if it was worth it.
There has also been some preparation for COPE on the relationship side of things. He, the engineer and I had a group chat just the other day, to talk about expectations for our first major kink event together as a group, and their first time at COPE at all. It was a very good, and very long discussion, ranging from play, to protocols, to packing. We talked about scening together both publicly and privately. There was discussion of what “reasonable use” of Sir meant to each of us. We talked about appropriate behavior and communication, including bringing cloaks in case we are roomed on the vanilla side of the hotel. And we talked about having protocols that were natural and easily met. This weekend isn’t about trying to trip us up, but rather, about having a time to be together, play together and to take care of each other. I am very much looking forward to spending a weekend in his service.
And then I get to the clothes part of the packing. What to wear, what to wear. So many choices, and changes to be considered. Sleeping without Pjs has been decided upon, so I can at least not worry about that set of clothes. But let me ramble on the sets I think I might need: opening ceremony outfit, after play outfit, Saturday classes outfit, leave the hotel to eat lunch/dinner outfit, closing ceremony outfit, after play outfit, Sunday go home clothes. One might wonder why an after play outfit. Well, it depends on the ceremony outfit, but one of them will certainly be my new corset, and after a heavy scene, I just don’t see it going back on. So, what about just walking around nude after? Well, if it’s what he wants, that’s fine with me, but he tends to like outfits a little bit more.
So, I’ve got one outfit decided upon, probably the opening ceremony – make a good first impression, without having to wear a brand new corset for too long. I was thinking of bringing my saris for easy, toss and tie it on. Those might work really well for after play outfits. Easy on, easy off. I should really run them through the wash and hang them up so they aren’t so creased from being folded for years. Saturday class time? It’s always so cold in the hotel, but warm clothes aren’t generally conducive to practicing new rope work, and I do imagine most of our class time will be rope. My SAM tank top and a long sleeve jean shirt for easy cover up of arms or legs? If I wear that tank top, I’ll have to wear the “apology skirt” with it. Sunday and go out for dinner are the easiest, just a skirt and cute t-shirts. But what about that second ceremony/make an impression outfit? (I don’t think I’ve ever put this much thought into the clothes I wear to COPE.) I’ve got a lot of fun things these days, and less opportunity to wear them. I’ll have to put some more thought into this last choice. At least these days, I have appropriate footwear. The girls always used to tease me about going about in sexy dresses while barefoot, even at the start of the night. Some day I’ll have to dig my old prom dress out, and have it cut off me. If my high school peers could see me now…
A week and a day until COPE, so excited!!!
Great Expectations
August 30th, 2012
While sitting in the theater, waiting for Avenue Q to start, hubby turned and asked me about expectations. Hubby felt that my boyfriend and I had a good handle on setting expectations and asked how we did it. Or more specifically, how He had done it with me. I jokingly said that when you tell a girl for a year and a half that you are a sexually satisfied man, and then start dating her, expectations start out pretty low. In all seriousness, though, he and I usually played three times a week during most of the year prior to dating, and had already started conversations on expectations and happiness.
One of those conversations began with him asking me if I could be happy without him suspending me for a whole year. I had passed through most of my newbie sub-frenzy by that point, so I could actually consider the question. It took a little back and forth before I understood the intent of the question. It wasn’t about him denying me what I wanted, it was about expectation crashing with reality. What if he got hurt (which happened)? What if we lost our suspension point (which has happened repeatedly)? What if I got hurt? The real question was did my happiness depend on suspension, or could I be happy without it? This started the thought process in my brain that expectations have to mesh with the reality of the situation.
Another set of conversations we had was him asking me if I Deserved to be suspended. At the time it felt like a trick question, given the dynamics we were involved in. But it was really about suspension not being a think I could deserve or earn. It was a gift, given because he wanted to. Not because I deserve it or expect it. Giving affection only because it is expected or only when someone has “earned” it can lead to abusive situations. For me, affection must be given because both parties want to give it. But beware putting expectations on what defines affection.
Back to the question that I started with. When he asked if I could be happy without suspension, he wasn’t asking if I would be happy not seeing him for a year, simply without one form of play. In our relationship, I expect to see him fairly regularly and I expect affection. Sometimes that means a hug, sometimes a text message, sometimes a flogging and sometimes it means dinner and a movie. When it’s been a long day, it can simply means his arm around me while he falls asleep. He shows me affection in whatever way he is able, mentally, physically and emotionally. As I do him.
Another way we have set expectations in our relationship was to write them down. In our contract with toy, we wrote out what all the expectations were. What we all did before play, what types of play there would be, and what could preempt or prevent play. It was very clear what we could all expect, and even then there were surprises.
So, what do we do then? What happens when expectations are not met? No matter how clear you think you have been, or how mutual you think your expectations are, you will still face disappointment occasionally. The important thing to do, of course, is to talk about it. What were my expectations? Were they the same as his expectations? What happened that caused them not to be met? Was it reasonable? Were the expectations reasonable to begin with? Was it just a special case that won’t happen again? How can we prevent this situation from repeating itself? Do the expectations need revised, or does one party need to be more conscious of meeting the expectation?
For me, another good conversation to stay on top of is wants and needs. My needs tend to be where I set my expectations, so I have to communicate that those things are needs. And I have to set reasonable expectations of where I’m going to get those needs filled. Being poly, they don’t all have to be filled by one person. Wants are things I would like to have, and I have to communicate them, too, else they won’t have a chance to be fulfilled. But the important thing to remember is that I cannot expect all my wants to be fulfilled all the time. Life isn’t that simple. But I can work on getting them filled through expressing them and making plans. And sometimes my needs aren’t met either, at which point we return to the previous paragraph of questions to have another look.
As always, the most important part of setting expectations has been clear communication. Second to that is acceptance that we are human and life isn’t perfect. Talk about your expectations. Unspoken expectations Cannot be met. Understand that life gets in the way, even of needs sometimes. Be flexible, accepting, and keep talking. And while you are talking, offer solutions. Once the problem has been stated, clarified and understood, move forward and find ways to avoid future disappointment from that source. During your conversations, if the other person has expectations that you cannot meet, have a conversation about why and about what can be done instead, or how to change that expectation. Expectations are a two-way street, both parties must be actively involved in setting, meeting and revising them. Everything changes, keep talking.
Wants, Needs, and Poly
July 21st, 2012
I am a woman of many desires. I have a lot of interests, a lot of curiosity, and never enough time and energy to do it all. I enjoy the outdoors: hiking, camping, stargazing, swimming, canoeing, kayaking. I enjoy computers: programming, web design, internet browsing, WoW. I enjoy writing: blogs, stories, journals, articles, novels. I enjoy reading: fantasy, erotica, motivational, entrepreneurship, health, fiction. I enjoy movies and television: crime, drama, scifi, fantasy, action, cartoons, some anime. I enjoy kink: bondage, corporal, electricity, fire, wax, suspension, body manipulation, power exchange, service, and more. I enjoy sex: intercourse, masturbation, oral, vibrators, dildos, hugging, kissing, licking, biting, massage. I enjoy learning about everything.
But there is only so much time in the days, days in the weeks, weeks in the year. So I don’t get to do everything I enjoy. I have to work, I have responsibilities, and I have to eat, and sleep and take care of myself. The same goes for my partners.
That’s what is great about Poly. I have many wants and needs, but I can’t do everything I enjoy myself, so I know that one person cannot fulfill all my wants and needs either. I live in a wonderful kink community, within my community, I have a poly family. Within this poly family there are many individuals, each of whom adds to my life in the way he or she is able. I do not expect any one of them to fulfill my every want or need. And if a member leaves my poly family, I don’t expect the others to fulfill the wants and needs that one was carrying. Sometimes someone can and does, but to expect them to take on more than they were already doing is unfair. Each person gives me what they are able, and in return, I give them what I am able.
And this changes sometimes. On both sides of the equation. People and relationships grow and change all the time. What one is able to give and receive can change, as well. Time, affection, attention. And as we can see from the divorce rate, even love changes. It is unrealistic to expect relationships to be constant, or even consistent. The only way to manage this is through communication. Keep talking. Keep being honest with yourself and your partners. If you notice a change that has not been communicated, ask. Maybe they didn’t realize it was happening. Find out if it was intentional, or caused by exterior forces. Do not assume the worst. Ask first.
Just because one person cannot fulfill all your wants and needs, doesn’t mean you can’t ask for what you want or need. It means accepting no as an answer. When you love someone, you want to give them everything. But that is not always possible. Being able to accept no, being able to be happy with the yes’s they can give, is very important to maintaining a healthy relationship. If you constantly focus on what you’re not getting, you will never be satisfied with what you have.
Brain Swirly
July 12th, 2012
Brain’s a bit swirly today. After vacation and some really rough conversations, I’m all over the place. But the Elust digest is a little too far away to not post something this week.
Hubby outed us to his Mom. First with rope, then the whole thing. Kept dropping hints about his DJng events until she finally had to ask what events. She did not end up bringing it up the rest of the week, so maybe reading 50 Shades of Grey did her some good. Who knows. We did not tell them about Poly, though we were open with everyone else about our lifestyle. I only felt judged once, and I’ll own that feeling as my own story creation, no way to know what was really going on in his head.
I commented last night that my German teacher in high school ingrained in my head the difference between “can’t wait” and “can hardly wait” and to this day, I can’t help but correct myself if I use the wrong one. But there are two more meanings to take into consideration. Often people say “cant’ when they mean “won’t” or when they mean “don’t want to.” All four of these phrases have different meanings, and different resolutions. If you can’t wait, then you have to go now. If you won’t wait, then you will exercise your will and go. If you don’t want to wait, you might still do it anyway, and if you can hardly wait, you usually will. It also brings to mind the phrase “If you think you can or you think you can’t, you are right.” If you keep saying you can’t do something, then you never will. Even if the truth is that you can hardly do it, or you don’t want to do it, or simply that you won’t do it. If you don’t believe in yourself, then you’ll never try. And what fun is that?
The other topic running around in my head is passivity. I am a mediator, a problem-solver. If someone comes to be with a complaint or a problem that they don’t want solved, they better be up front and clear with me that they aren’t asking for help. And they better be prepared for me to be annoyed that they don’t want to solve the problem. I’m not saying people can’t come to me with reactions, and feelings. I am sympathetic, I will listen, I will provide empathy and comfort. But I don’t like wallowing, and I won’t always agree with you. If you want my sympathy, I will give it, but I have to know that is what you’re after. If you come to me repeatedly for sympathy over the same problem, I will get annoyed at you, and ask you to stop dumping on me. I will insist you solve the problem. And no, I don’t consider wallowing in self-pity or anger because it’s your problem, not their problem, to be a solution. You have every right to be angry or sad or whatever, but I also have the right to encourage you to stop it, and find a way back to happy. I have a very positive world-view. I think happiness is a choice, and I really don’t understand people who think it isn’t. Yes, I sometimes wallow and get lost in the darkness, that’s why I surround myself with people who are good candles and mirrors. Because I need led out occasionally, too. I don’t like seeing my friends upset, and I will do everything in my power to help you, but I will find it hard to understand if you don’t want that help.
On a more positive note, I still need to get final confirmation and details worked out for featuring COPE in Modern Dungeon Quarterly. Issue Three will be out in just three weeks. I’m getting really excited for COPE. There are some vague, some solid and some ever-mutating plans in the works. And I still have no idea what I’m going to wear! It’s Steampunk themed, and I certainly don’t have anything to fit that. Though, with no club for the foreseeable future, my fun clothes won’t all feel so over-worn by September. On another clothes topic, how in the world am I going to go to Cedar Point in a skirt? Things to ponder.
My Body is My Own
June 29th, 2012
One of the things on my mind in the immediate is a lesson I’ve been learning for a long while now, or rather, unlearning the wrong lesson. My body is my own, to do with only that which I want to do. I’m nearly thirty-two years old, you would have thought I’d known this for quite a long time now. And I have gotten better about it. But I’ve also let myself be pressured. I think I’ve posted about this before, but in college, I sometimes viewed my body as a tool, a thing that didn’t really matter. It wasn’t who I was, it was just this outer shell, to use as necessary. I never got into anything terrible or dangerous with this attitude, I just often didn’t care enough to tell someone no, you can’t touch me.
The article I read the other day, went even further than that. It talked about not forcing a child to hug or kiss someone. Letting it be their own choice. The mother in this article had several reasons. One being that she wanted to teach her daughter that her body was her own, to do with only what she wanted. She didn’t want her to grow up feeling like her body was for pleasing others, especially those in authority. The other being because sometimes kids sense things about adults, sense things that make them uncomfortable, and she did not want to force her to hug someone that scared her. How many people do we give physical affection to, just because it’s expected of us? Are we confident enough to say no to someone with their arms out for a hug?
I know that I often struggle with this. I feel guilty if I don’t return a hug to someone offering it. There are certain people I don’t want to hug, so I do everything in my power to keep them from offering one. Either by my body language, keeping a distance, or outright ignoring them. Why don’t I just say no? It’s my body, why should I be more afraid of offending them, than my own feelings of comfort? Because that’s what I was trained to do, programmed from a young age to greet people with a hug.
So, how do I undo that training? First, by being conscious of it. That article made me painfully conscious of it. Second, by looking at myself. When do I behave this way? Why? With whom? Third, taking action. I spoke to hubby a bit about this, about not wanting to feel pressured. He has agreed to help. And I will be more active, and less passive in my offering or denying of physical affection. More conscious. Asking myself to be sure I want to be doing this, and enabling myself to say no, if I don’t.
It is an odd thing to think about. I don’t really have personal space anymore. I don’t mind people being close to me. I don’t understand when people passing a foot away say excuse me. I do excuse myself for doing similar at work, but that’s because I understand other people have personal space. So I don’t mind closeness, but it’s the affection that has me hooked.
My body is my own and I shouldn’t use it to make other people happy, if it doesn’t also please me.
Linkin Park – Burn It Down
June 21st, 2012
Writing, Publishing & Family
May 3rd, 2012
Some days I find it harder to write my normal, family friendly blog than others. I don’t have anything to say or I don’t have anything I can say that my parents can read. Lately, this is more of a problem as I want to post about all the work I’m doing, and the projects I have going. I want my family to be proud of me, but I know they would not understand.
Issue 2 of Modern Dungeon Quarterly came out on Tuesday. Ready to be bought at HP MagCloud. I posted the first two articles yesterday as well: Metal Bondage Safety and Spanking Benches. This has taken up a lot of my time, writing articles, interviewing and working with the photographer, editing and then working with toy on layout and my best friend on cover design. I’m really proud of what we’re creating. I want it to grow and become amazing. But even then, I cannot share it with my family. Not if I want to see my nieces and nephew.
I’m also working on another project. I’ve gathered up all the stories and scenes I’ve posted here, and printed them out and proofed them. I want to create little ebooks of my stories. I’m hoping you, my readers are interested in them, too. But when my parents ask what I’m writing lately, all I can tell them is that I blog. I was published in four flash fiction collections, but they only know about one.
My mom bought me some skirts last year, but she has no idea why I started wearing them. Or how often I wear them. They don’t know what I do every weekend. They know I have friends that care for me, but hardly any of their names. They don’t even know about all the love that is in my life, nor the troubles. This is hard, too. I have no support from them because they don’t know it is wanted or needed. I’ve never really talked to them about my love life, but sometimes it’d be nice to not have to censor myself.
This post feels a lot more whiny and complaining than I wanted it to be. A friend posted about her father tripping up her world view and it got my head diving down a bad direction, I guess. Let’s see if I can make a U-Turn.
I’m really excited about the various projects I’m working on.
Modern Dungeon Quarterly’s second issue is out. I have articles about all kinds of fun things; from spanking benches to paddles, from metal bondage to music. Hubby, toy and the engineer all wrote articles for me this time, so that was pretty cool. The photographer took lots of great pictures of the dungeon and I had a great time interviewing the owner.
I’m putting together my stories from this blog, organizing them by topic, so I can make little ebooks. How many stories do you think should be in each? At least one, non-blogged story per book? Is anybody even interested in such a thing? I think it’d be fun to have. Maybe even do on big anthology with everything, available in print as well as ebook? Thoughts? Suggestions? Pre-Orders? 
I’m wondering about getting a table at COPE, to sell the, by then, three issues of MDQ I’ll have, and maybe print out some of the ebooks and the anthology as well. I’ll hopefully be profiling the AIS dungeon and AIS Kink Labs at the event anyway. So much to think about. 
I haven’t even found my third dungeon yet.
I wish I was going to ShibariCon. That would be an awesome event to attend, maybe even have people I could interview and a dungeon I could do pictures of. Alas, this year’s expensive convention is WorldCon(awesome in its own right). Maybe next year.
There, that’s much better.