Imp of the Perverse

July 4th, 2016

I don’t know if I’ve ever posted about my name. I’ve had this blog so long, it’s possible that I have, but something new brought it forward in my mind. I listened to Brimstone Angels by Erin Evans recently, and the devil in the story brought it forward in my mind. Not the magic he offers, or his violent temper, or even the care he develops for the main character, but her attraction to him, and her resistance of it.

I have a quote from E.A. Poe’s story, The Imp of the Perverse, on the sidebar of this website: “There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a plunge.” It’s a story about that little voice inside us, that urges us to jump. Urges us to Do The Thing, even though the rational, logical part of our brain says ‘no, it’s dangerous, it’ll kill you, don’t do it.’

I have that feeling a lot in my life. And I resist it a lot, too. Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s very hard. Sometimes I resist it just because the feeling is there, and it is so strong: I shouldn’t do the thing. Why? Because I want to do it so badly.

Does that even make sense to someone who isn’t me? Who wasn’t raised the way I was? Probably, a lot of people were raised this way. I was raised to resist temptation: “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” I was taught that temptation was evil, something to be avoided.

And so, sometimes, when I give into temptation, I do it with my eyes closed so tightly, that I trip and fall headlong down that cliff. Instead of walking in, eyes (and mind) wide open, so I can control my fall, or maybe even climb down carefully.

I’ve done this with relationships, over and over again. Jumped in headfirst, and hit rock bottom before I even knew I was falling. Some of these were shallow cliffs, with not very far too fall. Some of them, I’m still climbing out of.

I did this with him, too. Jumped in without looking, lost my way, took the wrong path, hit rock bottom. But he jumped in with me, and we helped each other back to our feet, and we still walk together, living our lives, and exploring other cliffs.

Sometimes, I miss my cliff-jumping days. Sometimes, I resent my carefulness, now. Sometimes, I get frustrated that bad-idea snacks are the one of the few temptations I give into anymore. Sometimes, I don’t want to be responsible, dependable, reliable. Some days, I just want to go be a librarian on the Galapagos Islands. Some days, I want to just get in my car and drive til I run out of money. Some days, I wonder if I could get people to pay me to drive around the country doing genealogical research for them. Or fly around the world, too. Some days, I don’t want to be careful, and thoughtful, and considerate. Some days, I just want to jump off a building and be Dauntless. (Guess what book I’m listening to, now.)

 

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Spring Renewal

March 20th, 2014

So many thoughts in my head and things going on. The year of changes, I’ve been calling it.

Another blogger and friend has been writing lately about being herself, reclaiming herself, and not hiding behind the masks any longer. This got me thinking about me, how I behave, how I am now versus how I have been in the past.

Have I changed? Have I learned? Did I learn anything at all? Am I different? Or just living in a different structure? Am I being my own true self?

I look at where I am now, and it looks different than where I was five and a half years ago. But it also looks eerily similar. I have one stable relationship with the expectation for another at some point. There is much uncertainty where that is concerned, but a desire on both our parts for it to work, for the benefit of all. I have stepped through some uncertainty and insecurity, and am looking outward again. To my friends and chosen family. To making plans and having fun. To meeting new people and trying new things.

I have many bad habits I need to work on, and I see hints of others that I have not acknowledged before. Patterns I do not wish to repeat. Addictions that I must avoid (no, I don’t mean to avoid chocolate, ever). But I feel like I have learned and grown stronger. Hindsight is 20/20, but I’m hoping it will also help me see the traps before I fall into them again.

I am still me. I am not perfect and never want to be (okay, okay, I know I never will be). I am still exploring my path with no arbitrary restrictions. There are agreements in place, and lines of communication are open. I am learning to say why not, and honestly consider the answer. “I can’t” should not be an automatic response. I’ll start with “let me think about it,” and go from there to action.

Life is here to be lived. Joy to be found. And love to be shared. And each and every experience is unique. I am not here to hide, but to live a fabulous life full of love and joy and more. Carpe Diem, as they say.

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The Writing on My Thighs

March 17th, 2011

What’s really there is that I have an awesome boyfriend who loves me, who trusts me, and who wants to continue our journey together, in life and in kink.

What’s really there is several new paths we are taking, one including an awesome woman who has decided to be our toy.

What’s really there is stressful work and health situations that are not who we are, but simply things we are doing and dealing with.

What’s really there is drama in our worlds and families that we need to deal with and solve together, supporting each other.

What’s really there is amazing opportunities for love and companionship and play and fun together, that I never would have thought possible five years ago.

 

These sentences are currently written on my thighs. I wrote them in a chat yesterday, and we decided I ought to write them on myself for a little while. “Until the message sinks in,” you might say. I need practice focusing on the positive. I need to not let the negative build up and build up, because “it’s just a little thing,” until it becomes a whirlwind of fear, doubt and crazy. I’m a writer, a good thing, but also bad. I write stories in my head, make assumptions, fill in the blanks. I live inside my head a little too much. I need to remember there are other people out there, often right beside me, who have the real answers, the actual truth of the matter, and sometimes, a far better grip on reality than the tangled mess I sometimes get myself into. Speculative fiction is awesome to write and sell and share, but reality is strange enough without me getting creative on it.

So, lesson of the week: Communicate!

How many times have I written about communication? And yet…

Things are far easier to deal with and discount and conquer when they are small. And nothing is too small to mention. A grain of sand creates a pearl, but a fleck of metal can blind you and a single spark can burn down a forest. He is good at noticing when something is wrong or off, but I am not always so good at realizing he is right. So, communication. Don’t dismiss it when he questions, really look and try to shake loose the thought that is keeping me off balance by hiding in the corner. Life is always crazy and busy and stressful, but letting things bottle and build up is only going to make things worse. Explosions are far more damaging than a firecracker. Just don’t hang on too tight, toss it up in the air and see what it looks like in the light.

 

I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am worthy.

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Day Nineteen – A Better Life

January 19th, 2011

Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life? If so, what are they?

Many, many ways.

My 30 Days of Kink

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Big Week, Lots of Links and Labels

November 11th, 2010

As I posted yesterday, my first professionally published piece is available for sale. Also yesterday, Elysium Avenue reblogged my Consensual Non-Consent post.

Last week, after making my post here about drop, I found a new blog called Fearless Press and posted a few comments on a couple posts dealing with labels: The Beginning and What Did You Call Me? I last posted on labels in June of 2009. So, that’s the topic I want to make my own post on today. Labels in the kink community.

Most of my dealings with labels lately have been in reference to defining relationships as opposed to defining self. Who am I to my partner and what does that mean to us? The difficulty, as pointed out by Amethyst Wonder’s post is “that like most language, labels don’t mean the exact same thing in different people’s minds.” This is why communication is so important in relationships, to define the labels for yourselves. None of my relationships can be explained by a single word and truly be understood. We have to decide and discuss what it means to us personally, and to our other partners, as well.

Personal labels have become even more situational as I have grown and expanded my horizons in the kink community. They have become a way to explain what I’m doing, instead of who I am. I label as service top at the club where I do violet wand scenes. I label as a rope slut when talking about my love for and experience with rope. I label as a pain slut when I talk about physically intense scenes. I am all of these things, but none of them define me completely.

Submissive is the label I use most often, because it is the word I associate with my overall kinky nature. However, my submissiveness manifests in different ways with my different partners. I often find myself explaining these differences, the word is not a simple definition, but a starting place for discussion. I do not let other people tell me how a submissive should act, or that it is wrong to show different kinds of submission or different levels of submission to different partners.

Mako Allen commented that “Lao-tzu had it right. When you stop worrying about the kind of kinky person you should be, you can fully embrace the kinky person you actually are.” I enjoy what I do far too much to worry about what others think I should do. I also enjoy teaching and sharing, so labels give me a framework to start from. Then I expand that out, to share the richness of my life and my journey, to those who ask and are willing to listen.

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I Need You, Baby

July 29th, 2010

I told Hubby last night, that I can do all the things I do because I know, no matter what, I have him to come home to, forever. Once upon a time, when we were dating, he called me his Rock. I was more stable and grounded and he could always count on me, to be there for him. He is that for me, too. My life is crazy and busy and wonderful, but no matter how busy, how crazy, how much running around I do, I can always come home to him. Even if he is out when I get here, I know, that if I need him, he will always be there for me. His love and support do not waver. He is my Husband, my Master, my Primary partner. I love him, I want him, and I need him. I am so grateful to have him in my life.

A short post this week, but important. I have some work I want to get done. I am compiling journal entries, emails, chats, and random writings from over the last two years. Lots of thoughts come up and mill about while I am doing that, but today, this was what I wanted to say.

Thank you, Hubby, for all that you do and all that you are. I love you.

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