sub french

Made of what again?

2011-04-17T00:45:00.000-04:00

Of all of the people I know, only Hal has the knack of showing up in my dreams.

Let me back that up. I dream a lot. My pagan side, and pagan contingent of friends, could expound on the reasons for that for basically ever, and that's cool. But basically, I dream a lot. I also tend to remember my dreams, and I try to make an effort to write them down.

References to people I know happen all of the time. Like, having my grandmother's necklace, or being at my parent's house, or their church, or whatever. But people I know? Don't often show up. I don't recall ever dreaming about Jay, or about my grandmother, or about my father. My mom will show up sometimes, but other than that, that's it.

That's not to say there aren't people in my dreams. They are, I just don't know them "in real life", if that makes sense. They're people in the dream, and in the dream, I know them well, but they don't correspond to someone I know in the corporeal world.

Hal, on the other hand, shows up all the damn time.

He shows up in all kinds of dreams - happy ones, neutral ones, nightmares. He was being stalked by a serial killer in one; that was a good time. We were in a burning building, in another. And he's taken me for rides on his motorcycle, been at parties with me, and more.

As for why he continually shows up, I haven't a clue. Perhaps its my brain filling in information that I don't yet know about him? Wishful thinking? Not really sure.

Conversely, Joseph reports that he dreams about ME all the time. And Jay? Jay never remembers his dreams.

Well that's nice

2011-03-29T16:19:00.000-04:00

Somehow it always seems like there's so many things that are higher on the priority list or in the way of sex and sex-time around here.

For example! I have turned down sex because I really, really needed to go grocery shopping. Yes right that very minute.

I mean, yeah, we needed food, but it's not like it couldn't have been rescheduled until the next day. We weren't going to starve overnight.

The hell of it is, it always seems like such a good idea at the time, to put off sex. Like, yeah, let me just do this one thing and then I'll come back and we'll pick up where we left off. I need to get some responsible adult on.

We never. EVER. pick up where we left off.

How can we? We're not in the same space and place anymore. I've gone off and distracted myself and Jay and done something else and there's no getting it back.

I fear that if I give in to sex whenever I want it, I will never, ever get anything under the "responsible adult" category done, such as grocery shopping, laundry, or cleaning. And one thing I've learned about myself over the years is that I need to get a minimum level of responsible adult stuff done in order to feel like a functional, healthy human being. (I am fully aware that this is my hang-up, and don't expect it to be anyone else's). Like, if there's not enough food in the house, I freak. out.. I have noticed a distinct correlation between my mental state and the amount of clutter in the house, or dishes, etc.

To be honest, this is really just scratching the surface of why my sex life has been, well, fairly non-existent lately. There was the emergency house re-wiring that took two weeks and tore everything up (including our playroom, and I haven't had the spoons to go up there and clean yet), there's the fact that my job has me burnt the hell out and therefore I could probably go to a psychiatrist and walk out with a Major Depression diagnosis (if not anything else - but again, my hang-ups about getting diagnosed are my own), the fact that we've just been busy. There was not a single night last week where we were home for dinner. Not a single one in seven days. For my introverted ass, that is a LOT. And it cuts down on sex times! There's the fact that ever since my last period, any sort of breast bondage or torture is extremely, exquisitely painful for me, and not in the good way.

The obvious answer is "well then reprioritize", and I'm not sure I want to. I mean, I want to, but, effort, you know? And a lot of what we've been doing I like that we're doing. And overcoming inertia is very, very difficult (physics ftw!)

Just... yeah.

Accomplishments

2011-02-06T23:09:00.000-05:00

Well, we did finally get the bench be-hooked - hopefully we'll be trying that out this week.

In addition, we bought some supplies for a wooden pony, because I've wanted one of those for like, oh, six years or something now. I found these delightful metal brackets for making easy sawhorses at Home Depot (how much do I love that store? A lot.) a while ago, and picked them up as I thought they'd make a good basis for a pony. We finally went tonight and got wood for the legs, sandpaper, varnish, etc., to finish the rest of it. For the top I got a piece of really nice "premium" pine that already has a rounded edge. It's just a matter of sanding it a bit more, putting the varnish on, and then putting it together. We'll probably have to make some height adjustments too, but that's what power tools are for. That should hopefully be done this week as well.

Also acquired is a Twitter account for me. Apparently all the cool kids are doing it? Either way, you can find me here, or, you know, that button-thingy on the side there. Sometimes I have things to say, but not what I think is a whole blog entry, so I'm hoping to post on a regular basis there, even if I don't post long things here so much.

Number 19 - someone who pesters your mind - good or bad

2011-02-05T14:13:00.000-05:00

Oh Hal -

We, are going to get ourselves in to trouble.

Do I show up in your dreams, the way you show up in mine? Do you wake up with my name on your lips and the uncanny sensation that if you open your eyes, you'll see me in your bed, the way I think I'll see you in mine? When we touch, do you feel the same certain, unshakeable peace that I do? That unutterable sense of right-ness?

I remain firmly convinced that you and I have known each other before, boyo. You are so familiar to me, and have been from day one in this go-round. When we first met, I was obsessed with figuring out who you were to me before, and the longer I know you, the less important that is. I'm more interested in figuring out who you are now, in this life, for good or ill. Who and what you will be to me this time.

I wonder that no one else talks about it. What seems so obvious to me - does no one else see it? Am I imagining everything? Is this all some flight of my own fancy? I feel as if we are pushing the limits of acceptable behavior so far, and yet no one has commented on it to me. I have heard no gossip. There have been no negative consequences and I cannot imagine that what we are doing really wouldn't be subject to any. Am I really that wrong?

Do you know that the only other person who uses possessives in conjunction with my name is my husband?

Do you want me to be yours in more than words?

I know that the situation demands not only that we not be anything more to each other, but also that you not disclose any more than you already have. My intuition is telling me that you'd like very much to do and be more with me, but I like hearing the words. And no matter how often I am right, I doubt my own intuition very much. I doubt my read of the situation without independent verification.

Do you think of me? Do you reach out and wish you could touch me? Do you want to call me a thousand times a day just to share a thought, an observation, something you know I'll laugh at? Do you go home on the nights we work together, and smell just that hint of me on your clothes, on your skin, and does it make you smile? Do you wonder how I taste? Do you wonder what would happen if we kissed?

Do you fantasize about me? Do you wonder what it would be like to touch all of me? Do you wonder what it would feel like if I were touching all of you?

Do you wonder if I'm kinky, and how I'm kinky? Do you think about what I'd look like with a collar around my neck and the leash in your hands? What it would feel like to have me call you "Sir" and not just be kidding? What it would feel like to have my lips around your cock and my hands on your skin and to fist your hands in my hair and finally, finally take me? Do you wonder what kind of magic, what kind of fireworks we could make together?

I don't trust easily, and I trusted you from the moment we met. I don't often let others touch me, and I let you touch me from the moment we met. I know you, darling, I know you very well.

Do you know me?

Do you want to?

with love,

~Mme.

On echochambers

2011-01-10T14:05:00.002-05:00

I will preface this by saying I'm composing it on my iPhone, so I will be editing for spelling, etc. later. And I apologize for any typographical errors that most assuredly will be found!

Anyway. One of the criticisms I see leveled by trolls against blogs that don't put up with their shit is "oh I see, you just want an echo chamber, not real debate", or similar.

Requiring you to stay on topic is not making an echo chamber.

Requiring you to meet minimum civility standards is not making an echo chamber.

Requiring that you read a stated commenting policy is not making an echo chamber.

Dismissing your cries of "but what about my 1st amendment rights!" is not making an echo chamber; a private blog is not the government.

Requiring you to back up your contradictory assertions with reputable sources is not making an echo chamber.

Requiring you to provide examples of your contradictory assertion on the scale of the evidence presented in the post or comment you are replying to is not making an echo chamber.

Requiring you to not be a douchebag, and banning you when you are, is not making an echo chamber.

I realize that I am somewhat preaching to the proverbial choir here, but if you are going to come in to my virtual living room, I get to set the rules on what he conversation looks like. Don't like the rules? Get your own blog.

And also? So what if a blog is an echo chamber? I mean, really, if that is your WINNING POINT to make the blogger change their mind, you are not going to be a big winner today, or any other day. If it is an echo chamber, it is probably that way by design. Get your own blog and run it how you want.

2011-01-02T20:17:00.000-05:00

The holidays, we spent in a blur of visiting family. His, and mine. His is more local to us, so that was just a drive; I have family all over the damn country, so there were multiple flights involved. I would like to register, for the record, that I do not like the TSA's tactics of either a groping or a nude-o-scope scan for "security". It doesn't do anything to make us demonstrably safer and violates my rights as an American citizen. Plus, the only people who have seen photographs of my naked flesh are Jay and Joseph and I'd like to keep it that way.

I know it's popular this time of year to make resolutions, but I've never been the type. On the Twitterscope is a New Year's "Revolution" that the Health at Every Size community there is getting going, which I can definitely support. I am all for radical acts of self-love and acceptance.

But I don't do resolutions. They've always felt... contrived to me, I suppose. And rather arbitrary. I mean, if they work for you, go right the hell for it, and good luck. But they don't work for me.

Still, it's hard to avoid reflecting at the turn of another calendar page, so a couple of the things I'd like to change for this coming month and year include:

Getting the hooks on the delicious bench we bought so that I can be both spanked AND restrained on/to it.
Sorting through the toys and moving the better part of them to the designated play room (which IS painted, cleaned, and carpeted!)
Getting over my hangups and posting more often. (The hangups, they are legion.)

I say "post more often" all the time, but yeah, I don't post regularly. I'm honestly not in the blogging game to rule the world, have a gazillion fans or followers or friends or whateverthehell - although I do appreciate each and every one of you! I'm not here to make money, either. I'm here because sometimes, I just really need an outlet for some of the thoughts in my head that aren't what are typically classified as "socially acceptable", and this space works pretty well. So thanks to you for joining me, on those irregular occasions, and Happy New Year to y'all.

Oh, so the worst thing you will read all day.

2010-12-09T00:09:00.000-05:00

Posted today on Shakesville was this, which is a link to an article about a "controversial" new book that postulates that feminism has ruined male-female relations and that women need to stop "acting like men" at home and give up on this whole "equal" thing because "men don't fall in love with equals."

If you've got enough sanity points, it's worth reading the article, if only because I cannot make this shit up, y'all.

Feminism does in fact tell women that we do not have to act demure, "sexually available", "complimentary", etc. and so on.

But feminism does not tell us that we MUST not act that way. The beauty of feminism is that we have the ability to be individual people, and decide what femininity means to us on our own terms - so far as any of us can have our own terms, growing up and living in the miasma of patriarchy.

Likewise, feminism does not proscribe narrow roles for men and say all men like THIS and think THIS and do THIS and are capable of THIS. Which is what the authors are saying. And yet, feminists are man-haters?

Additionally, you know, I am all for clear communication in relationships. Part of that is because I try to do it myself and I really like the results, part of it is because I think communicating respectfully with people is just part of being a decent person and I have this thing about not being an asshole. And it chaps my ass that these authors can advocate a healthy relationship skill like communication in the same mothafuckin BREATH as they advocate that women should tone their personalities and accomplishments down so they don't hurt the menz' precious fee-fees.

And while we're at it, could this book get any more hetero-normative? The entire QUILTBAG community, where are they in all this? Oh right, patriarchy tells us that only straight relationships matter. And only those where the woman is properly "sexually available" and "complimentary" (no, the misspelling is not mine).

Oh also, what about relationships that aren't dyads? Wait wait wait, those don't exist either; sorry my silly ladybrane forgot.

This is the same old WHAT ABOUT THE MENZ LADIES YOU BETTER STAY DEMURE ON THE GROUND WITH THAT BOOT ON YOUR NECK OR ELSE bullshit. And it is absolutely galling that they mixed in a little bit of actual relationship advice to, what, make it more palatable? Make it more mainstream? I don't even know.

Is it possible someone will read this and chime to the "communication" part and it'll change their lives for the better? Sure. But why should they have to swallow all of that other shit to get there?

Psychosomatic

2010-11-08T12:08:00.001-05:00

Most of the time I'm fascinated by the interplay of physical and mental states.

Lately, I'm just annoyed.

Yes, I know body, I'm aware that mentally, I'm checked out, and don't want to be at my job right now. I assure you, the nausea and malaise are totally unnecessary. They are not helping the situation.

It is amazing, however, how quickly it can change. Like, within five minutes of leaving today, I will start feeling better. And I feel fine on the weekends.

I just feel like crap during the week.

Vacations, etc.

2010-10-22T09:44:00.000-04:00

So what have I done in the past two months? Gone on vacation, and gone on another vacation, and booked plane tickets for yet another, and in between worked a lot.

I did go to the public kinky event I was freaking out about, and it was actually okay.

And then I worked some more.

I am still working with Hal, I am still talking with Joseph, and Jay and I finally finished the space we were working on converting in to a play room. I even bought a bench to put in there, now I just have to figure out where to put the hooks on it so that someone can be restrained on it easily.

And then I worked.

And now I do actually have to get my ass to work, but I did want to post on here - no I am not disappearing for good, I was just super-busy.

Reasons why I can't believe anyone in their right mind considers me an adult

2010-08-26T00:22:00.000-04:00

8 am meeting? Let's stay up until 3:30 reading trashy romance novels?
Oreos? Why, those sound like a fine breakfast!
Lunch? Wait, I'm supposed to eat again? Ugh. I'm hungry, yeah, but there's no fooooood right here.
OH GOD I AM SO HUNGRY AND THEREFORE ANGRY RAAARRRRGHGHG SMASH
heheheheheheh accidental dong heheheheheheh
Wait, you mean I'm supposed to listen to the voice mail, and then call people back?
"Clean all the things? :(" (FYI, I laugh EVERY TIME I READ THIS)
Fuck, I should really bring a lunch with me to work. How about let's go to bed instead of packing one.
DAMMIT IT'S 3 PM AND I'M AT WORK AND THERE'S NO FOOD AND I AM HUNGRY GODDAMN YOU ALL
Spending six hours reading sex blogs, rather than do anything like, oh, laundry, cook, dishes, etc.? Hell yeah.
Nachos? Totally an awesome dinner.

Number 7 - Your ex-

2010-08-20T01:46:00.001-04:00

Frenzy -

I admit to having some mixed feelings about you. I admit to indulging in some serious schadenfreude when I found out that you were married and miserable. I admit that every once in a while, I miss you.

You were the first one to teach me that yes, people found me attractive. That in and of itself makes our probably-doomed-from-the-start relationship worth it. You liked me. You wanted to kiss me. And no one had ever been in my life like that before.

I didn't quite know what to do with that at the time.

Looking back, I can see the seeds of the person I am today in the person I was then, and know, with no sadness, that we wouldn't have been happy together for any significant length of time. Our paths are for different destinations, even though we were beside each other for a while. And having realized that, I can't be mad at you for not being able to give me what I needed. It's not who you are, and there isn't anything wrong with that.

So, my memories of you are largely fond, and I can only hope you think of me the same way.
And wherever your path leads you, may the walk be good.

~s.

Well fuck me.

2010-08-19T19:22:00.000-04:00

I've discovered that there is certain music that I really, really shouldn't listen to at work.

Backing up a moment. As a coping skill, I frequently have my iPod going at work, with my headphones on. It provides a layer of isolation from the environment that I really, desperately need right now. I am so not capable of dealing with hearing people's conversations and being aware of when people are walking past and etc. and so on. So it helps keep my stress level down, as well as helps me concentrate on work.

Problem is, there are certain songs that really, really get me thinking about things I probably shouldn't at work. See, I'm a dancer, and dancing? Dancing is just socially acceptable public foreplay. Really good dancing is dirty. And I can do hell of dirty dancing.

So, there's a lot of music I have specifically because it's very danceable, and lately, when I hear certain of the songs, good goddamn, my brain is treating me to all sorts of very, very dirty dancing scenarios, usually either with Hal or Jay. And it frequently evolves from dancing - again, see also foreplay - to very explicitly sexual situations.

Apparently my brain thinks I need to make use of a very specific chair in my house. For sexual purposes.

And apparently my brain thinks that I'm not having enough sex (actually, I agree with it on that).

You know, which is all well and good, except for the whole part where one, I don't have an office with a door, and two, I'm supposed to be, you know, working. One of these days I'm going to have the wrong look on my face when the wrong fucking person walks by and that is just going to be a bad scene, y'all.

Well then!

2010-08-18T20:12:00.000-04:00

I had my first experience with a Hitachi last night. We'd actually bought it about, oh, a month ago, and Jay's been using it, but I have so far resisted. I was... intimidated? Concerned? Hmm. Well, not totally on board with having a Hitachi applied to me.

I mean, that sucker is fucking loud.

I was apparently in somewhat more experimental mental space last night - or at least willing to be talked in to things - because when Jay said "Oooh, let's try out the Hitachi" in the midst of our excited erotic fumblings, I said "Okay?" Maybe it was just that I didn't feel like saying "no" yet again.

Yes, there was a question mark on that.

And... you know, it's different. Not bad, definitely very intense. But different. It's definitely thrum-my, which I've heard. And I found that for me, unlike most vibrators, it needs to not be applied directly to my clit. Press it in to my pubic bone, above or below the clit? Oh now that is delightful. I highly enjoy the fact that everything vibrates.

Is it a game-changer? Nah. Did it totally rock my world and/or tilt it off its axis? Nope. Will I use it again? Meh, probably. I just can't see myself reaching for it repeatedly and often. Of course, I don't reach for vibrators that often anyway, so that's really not super-surprising.

What is interesting is that the twiddly bits were not nearly as sensitive after orgasm as they usually are. How much of that is the Hitachi and how much of that is just where I am on the sexuality swing (see also: the other night, I masturbated to orgasm, and immediately wanted to go again), who knows.

So one Hitachi-assisted orgasm and one penis-assisted orgasm later, at 10 at night, I passed the hell out. And woke up at 6 the next morning with my necklace still on. Classy.

Obviously I needed that.

Oh god I hope not

2010-08-08T19:37:00.000-04:00

So since it's my blog, I figure I can ask some really stupid questions here, right?

Long story short, next month Jay and I will be attending a public fetish-y event. The reservation form for the event asks for scene names.

Neither of us fucking has a scene name.

Are scene names required? Having never been to this kind of event before, I seriously have NO FUCKING IDEA.

Help?

Number 1 - Your best friend

2010-08-05T13:48:00.000-04:00

SN-

I need to get drunk with you right fucking now because there are so fucking many stupid asshats in this world I can't even.

-SN2

Woo equality!

2010-08-04T18:41:00.000-04:00

So in case you haven't heard, Proposition 8 in California was overturned today and ruled to be unconstitutional.

Which is fucking awesome.

The ruling itself is a thing of beauty - and of course I'm biased; I have this pesky belief that gender, sex, and sexual orientation shouldn't be reasons to discriminate against anyone - and names opposition to same-sex marriage for what it is: an emotional or religious belief that same-sex couples are inferior to "opposite-sex" couples.

Now granted, I'm privileged. I'm a white straight cis-woman; the only ways I could get more privileged would be to be a cis-man and skinny. So yes, I'm doing a happy dance about this. This means a lot of my friends who couldn't get married before can. This means that they get something I do, that I get to share, that the eyes of the law can't look on them differently than they do me in one very significant and visible way.

Does this mean that everyone's equal? Nope. Does it mean that gay and lesbian people are equal to everyone else? Nope. It doesn't even remotely touch on anything else in "LGBTQQI" besides the "L" and the "G", and even then, only on one specific issue, the recognition of marriage.

There is still so, so much to do. I am not in any way denying that. I'd love to see transpeople included in ENDA. I'd love to see DOMA and DADT repealed. I'd love to see marriage redefined and poly relationships recognized. I'd love to see actual equality, for fucking everyone. This ruling, this ruling about one specific thing, is not even enshrined in law yet and could very well be overturned.

And maybe because I am so privileged, it's easier for me, even with all of that, to do a happy dance about this. Maybe it's easier for me to be overjoyed that a symbol - a symbol - is step-by-step becoming more accessible for everyone, should they choose it.

But you know what? Fuck it. This is another course of bricks in the big ol' house called Equality, and fuck it, I'm celebrating.

Thirty letters

2010-07-29T13:13:00.001-04:00

I've seen this meme on a few other blogs, but originally on Britni's. The idea is that over the course of thirty days, you write thirty letters, each to someone different. The list is as follows:

Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush/ Boyfriend
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

I hated writing assignments in school, and I don't do deadlines or dailies very well, but I like the concept. When I have ideas for what at least half of these would look like, after just looking at the list, clearly I need to participate. There's a lot to work with here, and I think "interesting" would be just the tip of the iceberg.

Still, I'm not going to do one every day, nor am I going to do them in order, I think. I might not even do all of them. But, there are some I definitely want to write.

Maybe even send.

So over the next while, you'll see some of these popping up on the blog. They won't be "Day such-and-such", they'll be "Number such-and-such", and they'll be tagged. Let's see how far the rabbit hole goes, hmmm?

No fucking thank you

2010-07-27T11:20:00.056-04:00

So, I don't actually like receiving oral.

Giving? Oh, I adore giving. I fantasize about cocks in my mouth on a regular basis.

Receiving? Not so much.

For the most part I try to be, mmm, nonchalant about it. "It's nice", I say, "but that's about all it is". Or, "I can take it or leave it".

That is more where I want to be, where I strive to be, than where I really am.

Where I actually am is Saturday morning, Jay and I had woken up, and I was feeling decidedly frisky. We started making out, he put his hand on my throat, starting using the paddle on my tits (which have I mentioned? I love), started using it on my cunt. I was sprawled on the bed, legs open, really starting to get in to things and thinking to myself "oh god please fuck me" when he bends over me, puts his face between my legs, and ever-so-gently starts licking my clit.

"It's okay, I'm cool" I practically chanted to myself and laid absolutely still. Yeah, it was cool for about 90 seconds, tops, when it was definitely OHMYGODNOTCOOL and I pretty much freaked.

A couple of things:

The better I'm doing on a given day with respect to my body image, the easier it is for me to chill out and not freak out when Jay starts eating me out. If I'm already anxious in some way about my body, it's far easier for me to be extremely anxious about the state of my vadge. On Saturday, I was already low-level freaking about the fact that we were due to be going to the beach with friends, and I would be wearing a swimsuit, and my legs were kind of hairy, and none of these friends had ever seen me in a swimsuit before. Yes, intellectually, who the fuck cares? It's my body, my body is wonderful, if they have a problem with it it's their problem not mine blah blah blah etc. and so on. And most of the time, I can maintain that. But unlearning the self-loathing for my body that I've been marinating in for nearly 30 years is a long, arduous process, and clearly is not done yet. It was definitely an "EW NO GROSS" moment. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.
At the best of times, oral sex performed on me is pleasant and nothing more. It does not come close to getting me off, and doesn't do anything to increase the pleasure I'm feeling. If anything, it decreases it, as it's kind of ho-hum. As you can imagine, this doesn't provide any incentive to get over myself in this area.
I'm really sick of hearing from various sources, such as magazines and the like, that oral is the end-all-be-all of getting off and that women all looooove oral. Fuck you. By stating that women are a monolith you do a disservice to women fucking everywhere. We all get off in different ways and like different things and that's okay.
Joseph and I, in our myriad discussions, have discussed oral. Upon finding out that I actually don't like receiving, his reply was "When we get together, I WILL go down on you, and you WILL like it." My immediate reaction was "Fuck you, no I won't". I don't respond well to orders. SHOCKING, I know. But that conversation popped in to my head Saturday morning. It added to the fucked-up-ness, which I didn't appreciate.
I also hear about all these women who just wish their guys would go down on them, and I wish mine wouldn't. How is it that a woman who despises oral keeps attracting guys who love giving it? What the fuck?
Jay's and my relationship is such that should he choose to dominate this hang-up out of me, he probably could. In other words, he could order me to like it, proceed to do it to me on a regular basis, and basically train my reaction out of me. He hasn't, and I'm not sure I want him to.
My sense of smell has been cranked to 11 lately, so I am hyper-sensitive to odors, and have a hard time remembering this under pressure.

So I got triggered in a bad, ugly way, and proceeded to cry in the shower, and then be unspeakably tetchy and angry the entire rest of the day. We also did not go to the beach, for mostly related reasons.

We eventually processed it all out (at 3 in the morning, when we both went to bed, wheee!), whereupon I cried again. Jay had gotten blindsided when I freaked in the morning, because one, he had no way of knowing what kind of headspace I was already in, and 2, when we had last discussed this topic and I had said "it's not unpleasant?" I had not made clear that that was more in the way of being a goal than my default state of being.

Having processed and reconnected, we were both feeling better, whereupon he proceeded to apply the new clips I bought at Ikea to my nipples, which, I have to share, was DIVINE. Which will teach him to doubt my purchases! And lo, it was good.

Still do not have any desire to be eaten out, ever though, thanks. Just... no.

rolleyes

2010-07-25T01:37:00.000-04:00

Joseph and I frequently entertain ourselves during our respective work days by having salacious and flirtatious conversations. Nearly as often, we're discussing politics or philosophy or something else, but the conversations do regularly turn sexual. Sometimes it's describing what we'd like to to do to each other should we ever find ourselves in the same city. Sometimes it's more prosaic - asking and answering questions about what the other likes, limits, etc.

While we were planning Tuesday's escapades, he made a passing remark that I might find it easier to write erotica after I'd "cum a bit".

Never mind the writing, there is no "bit" in cumming for me, and I promptly let him know. We moved on in the conversation but I got the impression that he really didn't understand what I was saying.

Later that night, he did actually get to see me in the throes of orgasm. Now, let me explain. For me, orgasm is often explosive. I've been told by Jay that it looks like I'm having a seizure, for starters. My entire body spasms, and if I'm capable of any vocalization at all, it's merely guttural shrieks and or moans. (Actually, I tend to lose verbal faculties fairly early on in arousal, which drives Joseph up a wall sometimes. Seeing as how we largely communicate through text and phone calls.) After orgasm, my brain more or less shuts down and I spend that time in a daze. This daze can last anywhere from one minute to half an hour, depending on the severity of the orgasm. I myself find it pretty fucking awesome; orgasm is the only thing I've found that can reliably halt my otherwise-constant brain activity. It's a nice break, and would be even if I didn't find orgasm itself intensely pleasurable.

Anyway. After I came to and was capable of moving again, I returned to the conversation.

"Holy fuck. I did not think you were serious. No wonder you fall asleep after; you look like you just got punched in the fucking skull."

Mmmmmmm.

"That or you're channeling a cat in a sunbeam. God damn, woman."

Mmmmmhmmm.

Like seriously, you didn't believe me? I'm pretty sure I'm the resident expert on my orgasm, thanks.

Although it was nice to find that I am occasionally able to read people through just text, and not just in person. No, he did not really understand what I was saying. *sigh*

Defintitely maybe.

2010-07-24T19:11:00.001-04:00

Well, at least Disqus installed properly, and is working right out of the box. Unlike IntenseDebate.

*sigh*

We'll see if the comment import works.

EDIT: Hooooly fuck, it looks like it worked. Color me shocked.

2010-07-24T02:34:00.000-04:00

Also, goddammit, comments are still broken. I love how my options are "use Blogger's shitty internal comments" or "break your shit".

Explanations

2010-07-24T02:32:00.000-04:00

I probably shouldn't be surprised that I've been having the dreams I've been having lately. First, everyone seems to be having vivid dreams lately, especially last weekend and in to this week. Secondly, it's been a hell of a week. I'm stressed, but almost touching on euphoric, really.

Monday I worked with Hal again. I like to think our relationship is maturing, seeing as how we are now capable of getting things done while laughing and falling all over ourselves. It's kind of nice, actually.

What was not nice - and I don't mean that negatively, just that "nice" isn't the word at all - was that on Monday, we wound up not talking. Probably because we were busy gazing in to each others' eyes. Like, seriously gazing. There are a number of reasons that Hal is off-limits right now, but oh good lord, that boy is dangerous.

Tuesday, I was in a training session at work that was largely not applicable to me. Being an immature sort, I was chatting away on my BlackBerry. Joseph and I had quite the conversation. Said conversation led to our indulging in a bit of simultaneous naked camera time, which we haven't done in god knows how long.

I always seem to feel particularly vulnerable after engaging sexually with Joseph. Intellectually, I know that he's attracted. He's told me as such - and shown me. I apparently need more aftercare than he's capable of providing from where he is, and I'm not sure if I mean that physically or emotionally. Probably a bit of both, now that I think about it. He's very much a "sensory" type - that is, his focus is on his senses. His writing is full of those sorts of details - how things smell, taste, look, sound. Me? Not so much. And I definitely am feeling vulnerable, four days later!

Basically, I need some reassurance. Have I explicitly mentioned this? Of course not.

But anyway, with the intensity of what's been going on this week, it's probably no wonder that both Hal and Joseph have been making regular appearances in my dreams. I could live without waking up feeling like I'm in a bed surrounded by people.

Of course, I think I could happily live if that happened in reality on a regular basis, so maybe I shouldn't complain too much.

But when your first thought of the day is "jesus god have mercy" or a related variant, it's a little trying, I have to admit.

Um.

2010-07-18T13:47:00.000-04:00

So I opened my mouth again, and Jay and I drove down to the Flea yesterday.

OH GOD IT'S PEOPLE AND OUT IN PUBLIC AND BALAHAHAHAHAHAH

Ahem.

We wandered a round for a while, just getting the lay of the land and adjusting to being in a kinky public space. We don't do that very often. But once we were feeling a bit more comfortable, we bought a few things.

The first thing we bought was a paddle. Nothing large, just a small hairbrush-type. It's small, and rather pretty.

And it stings like fucking hell.

Jay, naturally, is enamoured of it. "Ooh!" says he. "I can smack you a lot and my hand doesn't hurt! And your ass turns red so much faster!"

Oh why thank you darling, that's lovely OW OW OW OW OW.

He also tried it out my my breasts. It was still an OW for me, but a very different kind of ow, which Jay picked up on rather quickly. Activities commonly referred to as "breast torture": I LIKES THEM.

Regardless, I have the feeling that this, our very first paddle (how the hell were we kinky for ten years, and including so many spankings, and didn't have a paddle? I don't know.) is going to be making a LOT of appearances.

Being a feminist kinkster

2010-07-13T01:17:00.001-04:00

A thought occurred to me the other day:

But if it's my sexual agency, my power - isn't it mine to give away if I want?

If, as per feminism, I am an agent of my own free will, if I own my own agency, if I have the power to make choices for myself, why can't I sometimes choose - CHOOSE - to give that power away to someone else?

As has probably now been made quite clear, I identify as a feminist. I firmly believe that I am the equal of anyone on the planet - not the same, but equal - that I am fully capable of making my own choices, that no one has the right to take those choices away from me. I believe that I am a person, too - and that we are all people, even the ones I don't like.

What's probably painfully obvious is that I also identify as kinky. And while as a switch, there are definitely times when I want to be giving out the beatings, more often than not I want to be on the receiving end. (And sometimes, I just want to go to sleep oh god just let me sleep.) (Who am I kidding, most times I want to sleep. Mmm, sleep.)

And I've spent a lot of time, well, anguishing over these two parts of my identity and trying to bring them in to alignment with the whole of me. It's not an easy fit for me. Being less than anyone doesn't go down easy. This entry is the result of a lot of reading, and a fair number of years of thinking distilled.

I see no signs of being finished with the whole "cohesive identity" thing yet; I fully expect that to take a lifetime. And there's a lot to unpack, I think, with kink and the intersection with the culture I live in. (Note to self: write about kink intersectionality at some point.)

But, my will, my power, my agency, belong to me - inasmuch as they can belong to anyone raised in the miasma of the patriarchy. I may not own every aspect of it, and I may not understand owning it completely. I may not even fully know how far that agency goes. After all, I was raised under the memo that I don't own that, that I am subject to someone else's will. But even if that ownership is a work in progress, I am choosing - there's that word again - to act as if it isn't. To own, in totality, what I have, and to act as if I do completely own my own agency.

So therefore, if the choices are mine, why can't I give them away?

But, and this is a big but, the important part is that I am in fact choosing. It is, incontrovertably, my choice to give away my agency, or part of it, to Jay. Sometimes. Under certain circumstances. Where I am completely involved and invested in negotiating what those circumstances are, and just what choices I'm giving up.

There's a huge, vast difference for me in choosing to give away my choices, my power, and having them taken away from me. Having my choices taken away from me, my freedom as a person taken away, happens every day, in big ways and small - from court rulings and laws enacted that take away from my bodily autonomy and limit my access to reproductive healthcare, to the person on the street who says "Oh honey you really shouldn't wear that". It's a kind of theft; it's a violation.

But it's a different feeling and experience than voluntarily giving up a choice, or a group of choices, or a fair number of choices. It's different when it's a conscious choice. Regardless of what informs or motivates that choice.

So. If it's mine - and I have to function as and believe that it is - why can't I give it away?

On the notion of consent and personal responsibility

2010-07-09T15:12:00.003-04:00

Okay, this has come up a lot lately, all over the internets, and I've been leaving a lot of comments about it, so clearly it's time to write an entry about it.

DEAR INTERNETS:

First, go read this entry, so that you have the basic vocabulary you'll need to understand this post. It's okay, I'll wait. (For extra credit, read everything on this page.)

Done? Good.

So let me break this down for you all. The person at fault in a sexual assault, regardless of what that sexual assault is, is the person doing the assaulting.

Additionally: If you do not have clear, explicit, enthusiastic consent from a person you're interacting with, you're assaulting them.

(Cue trolls regarding my tone, also cue trolls regarding taking personal responsibility.)

Here's the thing about taking personal responsibility. Regardless of what personal responsibility I do or do not undertake, I am still not responsible for other people's actions. If you want to do something to or with me, I should be consenting to that. If I'm not, you're assaulting me and need to fuck off and leave me alone.

That goes regardless of what clothing I wear - since clothing can't give consent on my behalf for anything. That goes regardless of what bars, clubs, restaurants, venues, or streets I visit - since the only consent I have clearly given is to be in that place. That goes regardless of what activities I undertake - since the only consent I have clearly given is to be doing said activity and nothing else.

For example! If I am riding the subway, here is the list of things I have explicitly consented to:

Riding the subway.

Here is the list of things I have not explicitly consented to:

Conversation. With anyone.
Being groped or otherwise sexually assaulted, including being flashed.
Being punched or otherwise hit.
Being hit on (see also: conversation).
Being stared at as if I were an object specifically put there for your amusement, entertainment, etc.
Anything else that is not riding the subway.

See how that works? Here, I'll do another one for you. I'm a dancer. I dance ballroom, I dance in clubs, I dance socially. When I am out dancing, here is the list of things that I have consented to when I have walked in the door to the venue:

Being at the venue.
Probably being asked to dance.

Note how being at the venue does not mean I have consented to dance with you specifically.

If you do ask me to dance, and I accept, thereby giving my consent, here is what I have consented to:

Dancing with you at this point in time.

See that? Okay, now here is the list of things I have not consented to by being at the venue and consenting to dance with you:

Talking while dancing.
Being groped.
Being humped.
Going home with you.
Having a drink with you.
Being surrounded by your friends.
Dancing with you the rest of the night.
Having sex with you.
Taking you home.
Having sex with you on the dance floor.
Being touched by you in any way that is not prescribed by the dance (in ballroom, you have to touch in certain places/ways)
Anything else that is not dancing with you at this specific point in time.

Have I made myself clear?

Unfortunately, we live in a culture that gives us lessons like "if a girl's wearing a short skirt, she's a slut", and "sluts all want it, no matter what they say". Please be assured, these lessons are wrong, so wrong, so wrong I can't even tell you. I got the same lessons as everyone else.

But here's the thing. Even though we all were taught these lessons, we are not obligated to follow them. If anything, we're obligated to unlearn them and not follow them, because they're fucking wrong and lead directly to things like rape.

And because of those lessons we all got, I can take all the personal responsibility in the world - never going to a club, never going dancing, always wearing modest clothes - hell, wearing a burka - never walking alone at night, learning self-defense, all of those sorts of things - and it is still possible for me to be sexually assaulted. As in that link I posted earlier, the only way I can ever truly prevent my self from being assaulted is to never be in a room with a rapist or person who commits sexual assault, which is kind of fucking difficult seeing as how they don't all have nice big signs on their foreheads alerting me to the fact that they are in fact the kind of person who would assault someone. Because we teach people that it's okay to rape. It's okay to assault. That clothes can give consent, that sluts are out there and just asking for it, that you're more of a man the more sex you have.

(cue trolls about how well then obviously I want everyone to just never interact)

Here's the other thing. None of this precludes my being asked. None of this precludes you trying to strike up a conversation while we're dancing or riding the subway, none of this precludes your asking me if you can buy me a drink, none of this precludes you asking me if I'd be interested in going home with you, none of this precludes your asking me if I'm interested in making out, fucking, doing anything else. Asking is not the problem. The problem is either, you don't ask, you assume, or, you do ask, I don't consent, and you go ahead anyway.

If you strike up a conversation with me, and I don't immediately jump right in and participate? I'm not consenting to the conversation. If you ask me in the club if I want to go home with you, and I don't immediately enthusiastically agree that's a great idea? It's because I don't think it's a great idea, and I'm not consenting. If we're making out, getting all hot and heavy, and you put your hand in my pants and I don't immediately moan, start grinding, say "oh yes" or otherwise make it really, really fucking clear that I liked that, I'm not actually consenting to that. If you continue to converse with me, or continue to try to convince me to go home with you, or keep your hand in my pants, fuck you, I haven't consented.

If we are dancing, and you figure it's okay to hump me? If we're in the club and you assumed we're going home? If you're sitting next to me at the subway and figure it's okay to just talk at me? If we're making out and you figure that means clearly I want some piv sex? Fuck you. I haven't consented to any of the things you've figured on or assumed. Don't give me this "grey area" or "misunderstanding" bullshit that I see so often. If you are paying a modicum of attention to the world, and are at all a decent person, it should be pretty fucking easy for you to figure out if the person you're doing things with is consenting. And if it is at all not clear? You can fucking ask, and in fact, are obligated to.

The person doing the initiating is obligated to make absolutely sure they have consent to continue before continuing.

See how that works now kids?

Here's the other thing about consent: capitulation is not consent. For example, if someone is attempting to rape me, and I figure I have better odds of surviving and being less physically injured if I just let them rape me, rather than try to fight them off, that does not mean that I have consented to sex with them. It means they are raping me, and I have capitulated out of survival instinct.

And here's the last thing about personal responsibility: the person who needs to take some fucking personal responsibility in an assault is the person doing the assaulting.

LOVE, FRENCH

With a capital 'T'

2010-07-09T13:44:00.000-04:00

I've been seeing a lot of Hal recently, which has led to a lot of very interesting conversations.

I saw him Wednesday, and long story short the conversation ended with me saying that if he was going to be "torturing" our mutual friend on Wednesday, then he was aware that he'd have to torture me on Thursday when we were working together, right? To which he responds "Of course, but the difference is, you want it."

Thursday's session also included him asking "Wait, so who's the sadist and who's the masochist here?" Responding with "Oh honey, I'm a switch" just seemed a bit too beyond the pale, although I am reconsidering.

Our conversations are always relatively flirty, and he's also admitted that he likes messing with my head as much as I like messing with his. But lately there's been a lot of kink-hints included, and I'm not the one bringing them up. I am not entirely sure what to make of this situation, and what to think about that boy, that is for damned sure.

Drunken non-escapades

2010-07-08T11:33:00.000-04:00

I have this entire week off of work, and oh dear god it is wonderful. I get to wake up at 9 when Jay leaves for the day, kiss him goodbye, and then snooze for a bit. Then I get to do whatever I want. It is extremely awesome and I don't want to go back to work, like, ever.

Unfortunately, I still have not figured out a way to make money without going to work, so Monday's going to suck it.

Over the long weekend - well, Jay's long weekend; he is, as mentioned, working this week - we went to visit some dear friends of ours and stayed with them. There was much drinking, much movie watching, and much video game playing, as it was about A MILLION DEGREES OUTSIDE and none of us are fans of the heat.

Saturday night we made salsa and were drinking mojitos. I would not have called myself a rum fan - and still wouldn't - but oh lord I love me a good mojito. I lost count at 5, which was somewhere around 11 that night. Jay and I eventually went to bed around 3, and, being drunk, that meant I was horny. The problem is, I'm loud. Like, really loud. I am an extremely vocal person anyway, that doesn't stop during sexual activity, and my voice really carries. And we were in our friends' apartment, with four other people, so being loud wasn't an option. Jay being an asshole, he was doing things specifically designed to make me scream, such as trying to remove my nipples by hand (swear to god that's what he was doing). It's a lot more intense, I think, when you have to deal with the pain silently.

This went on for a while, and my control started slipping and I let out a whimper. Jay responded by putting his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, which was hot as hell for the thirty seconds it took my brain to work out that there was something on my fucking face ohohgodohgodgetitoff. Things on my face - like hands, scarves, masks, etc. - freak me out proper. So I freaked, Jay cuddled me, and we passed out. Dammit.

We did make up for it Monday night when we got home, though, so that makes me feel a bit better. But it was sober, which is a completely different sensation. Ah well. It's good to be home.

Using words like grownups

2010-06-27T22:50:00.001-04:00

It's sometimes surprising to me how much the cliche of "communication" in a relationship really is true, and really is helpful.

Case in point: Wednesday night, Jay and I were up until 4 in the morning (FOUR IN THE MORNING. ON A WORK NIGHT) communicating. On various levels.

It started out with a discussion of what we'd done recently that we'd liked, what hadn't worked so well, and so on. Then it moved on to things we thought we'd like to do more of, things we liked but found scary, things we fantasized about, things we're pretty sure we'd like to do but maybe are better left as fantasies, etc. Basically updating our kink checklists, without the formality of a written checklist, and checking in on where our relationship is.

It was pretty fucking hot. I am continually reminded that I am extremely lucky to be married to a man with whom I am a matched fucking set. And I do mean fucking in both senses it could be taken there. Our kinks don't exactly overlap, but if there were a venn diagram of our kinks it would look pretty similar to this one:

see more Funny Graphs

(oh graphjam, I <3 u)

So again, pretty lucky. We compliment each other fairly well. But even with that, I like having these discussions. One, kinks change and evolve as people change and evolve. Two, even after ten years, there is still no way that I know everything about Jay, and vice versa. There is always more to explore. Three, it's a hell of a lot easier to please each other when we are clear on what the other wants. Four, even if it's something the other isn't necessarily interested in, it's good to know that, and I find that for me, bringing it up in this context is a good way to get me thinking about it and possibly engaging in it.

Then after being up until 3 talking about kink and sex and kinky sex, naturally we were both just a bit turned on and had to engage in some. I wound up on my knees at the side of the bed giving Jay a blowjob, with his hands in my hair, whereupon he gave me a choice. I could finish the blowjob until he came, and we could go to sleep, or I could get back in bed, masturbate until I came, and at such time as I did come, he would then fuck me. I tend to get extremely sensitive after orgasm (as in, don't even fucking touch me), so this was not the pure treat it sounded like.

I opted for door number two anyway.

It was a lot loud, and a lot intense - both for the circumstances as well as for the actual act - and we both passed the hell out shortly afterwards. Work on Thursday bit, but whatever.

This whole communication thing really has done nothing but improve our relationship. And not just in the form of better, more frequent, or more intense sex, which are all true. It's given us a lot of intagibles as well. We trust each other. A lot. We know each other well. And honestly, having had the discussion, I'm a lot less stressed, and just generally feel closer to him. Not that I didn't feel close before, but, you know.

So yeah, cliche, maybe, but damn are we fans of this whole "communication" thing.

Sometimes I think life is designed as a torment to me

2010-06-20T00:24:00.000-04:00

So just what am I supposed to think when, as part of a costume, Hal had a pair of leather cuffs danging from his belt?

"Oh fuck yes, I knew he was top-ically inclined"?

2010-06-14T19:14:00.000-04:00

I don't think you're paying enough attention to me, she says as she rubs her naked body close to his in bed.

Oh? he replies.

No, you definitely haven't. I have been giving you so many clues, she whines.

Like what? he asks.

Like even on Wednesday when I fell asleep at 9, and I said that I was thinking of putting on the collar and the leash and waiting and letting you find me like that? That was a big fucking hint.

I have clearly been remiss in my duties, he states. Put the pink things in, go about your business, and I'll deal with you later.

2010-06-12T23:00:00.002-04:00

Well, fuck you very much Blogger, for not saving the major changes I made to my blogroll!

Fuck.

And here you thought you were predictable!

2010-06-09T23:28:00.000-04:00

For a long time I would have said that when I'm mightily stressed, I'm completely uninterested in sex. This week - well, this past month, really - seems determined to prove me wrong.

I work full-time, as does Jay. I'm not in the field I'd prefer to be, but I do something I'm damned good at, and I like my boss, so that helps. Work's been... busy. Really busy. I don't have enough hours in the day, etc. and so on, blah blah blah. Added on top of the busy bullshit, this has been the week of my name getting associated with shit that is so not even close to my demesne. I have job duties. I'm pretty clear about them with people. And no less than four times in the past three days has my name been listed as the responsible one for things that I don't even have the slightest clue about.

That is intensely frustrating for me. If I might indulge in a bit of bragging, I know a fuckton of things. I am a wealth of knowledge, which is actually part of my job description. But I don't lie about what I don't know - I'll be very blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people I don't have a fucking clue. And I'll also be blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people that it's not my job, and they need to speak to the person who does own it.

So when others fuck up and put me on the hook for things I shouldn't be, I am irritated. I am even more irritated when it results in hundreds of emails and phone calls to me (oh, if only I were kidding). Let's talk about the fact that answering my phone is pretty much my least favorite part of my job, hmmmm? (And how my voicemail is now changed, and I don't have to answer it this week, with my boss' permission.)

So a lot of things have been conspiring to make me stressed. And I, oh, I am all about the sex.

Jay and I have had sex every night for the past week, and almost every night for the past month. Joseph is all up in my business again (shocking, I know) and that is totes okay with me. Hal's been on his game as well, and let's talk about the lovely comments we've made to each other. The imagination? In overdrive. And the dreams I've had! Good lord!

And yet I am so stressed that rather than join Jay at an activity tonight that we both enjoy and I adore, I opted to stay home.

What.

To be sure, I am not complaining. I am slightly confused, but I am not complaining (okay, maybe I'm complaining about not being able to go two nights without dreaming of Hal in an inappropriate way, but other than that...). Perhaps my self has decided that since sex is a highly effective stress-reliever, it does not behoove us to not indulge? Who knows. But good lord!

Project plans

2010-06-04T19:08:00.000-04:00

One of the biggest selling points of our current house was that there are enough rooms that both Jay and I can have our own, separate offices, and we can also have a guest room. Jay and I are both the type of people who need space of our own, to do our own crap in, etc. and so on.

Better yet, my office is up on the third floor, which means there's a whole floor between it and the downstairs neighbors. Meaning I can be up there with the stereo blasting, working on whatever I like, and they don't hear me.

And perhaps best of all, I can paint my office.

The office is currently getting painted a lovely deep dark blue called "Nocturnal Sea". Eventually a painted, glow-in-the-dark moon and stars will go up there as well, and I've already bought a room-sized rug for it.

Once it's done, I will have a nice little office. And Jay and I will have a nice little playroom, with a conveniently-located attic in which to store some of the larger pieces we're thinking about building, such as a wooden pony, and a spanking bench, and a bondage frame.

Sure, we could buy them, but where's the fun in that? I <3 power tools.

We'll also have a nice bureau in which to store some of our toys, like the honkin' huge (seriously, it is titanically huge) dildo I just bought! Apparently right now I am very interested in insertions, specifically, large ones. Good times!

There will also be hooks for canes and crops and paddles and such, and nice thick curtains so no one can see in. And air-conditioning, because fuck this summer heat and humidity, seriously.

The second coat of paint goes on this weekend, and then the stars, and then the rug and OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY.

Some times you feel like a beating!

2010-05-25T00:00:00.000-04:00

Some times you don't!

(Yes, I am singing that to the tune of the old Almond Joy/Mounds jingle, why do you ask?)

One of the things I've gotten more aware of as I've gotten older (you'll note I did not say wiser) was that my life tends to move in cycles. Oh sure, there's the usual circadian rhythms, and the menstrual cycle, and blah blah blah, but I'm talking more, and more overarching.

I've noted that I have an overarching cycle in my life, for example, with my appetite. I cycle back and forth between a highly diminished appetite, where I can go all day without eating and nothing is very interesting, and a very enhanced one where I need to eat about every fifteen minutes and everything sounds DELICIOUS. Similarly, in terms of how easy it is for me to get up early in the morning, how interested I am in interacting with other people, how interested I am in leaving my house and going out and being social, and how interested I am in bottoming.

Well, that last, it varies from "please beat me ALL DAY THANKS", "yeah, a beatin's 'aight", "touch me and I'll break your arm", and "I can beats you nao?" But, you know. It cycles.

When I first noticed this, well, it caused me some worry. OH MY GOD I would think WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME and WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN DOING. You see, I frequently question myself. I shouldn't really, but I do it anyway. And clearly since I was not interested in any sort of submissive or bottoming activities, that meant that a, I was screwed up, b, I wasn't really a submissive/bottom, and/or c, I really need to not do that. Mostly it was d, all of the above. With a dash of "how the hell did that seem like a good idea".

Hey, I didn't say it made sense. However, it is more or less what I thought.

I'm in one of those "please to be beating me all days thank you" phases right now, which I haven't been for a while. It is delightful. I'm past worrying that my ever-changing desires make me wrong, or broken or whatnot. Now we're working on enjoying what's happening right now. Easier said than done, but I think worthwhile.

Also linked to that is working on communicating with Jay as to where I'm at and what I'm looking for. Again, easier said than done. It's one thing for me to know something in my head and be aware of it, and quite another to verbalize it. Words have power for me, and giving Jay the words to describe what I want gives him power. Whether I trust him or not is secondary to that, really - certainly trusting him as I do doesn't make it any easier for me. But... working on it.

Working on a lot of things, really.

Naked time!

2010-05-02T22:24:00.001-04:00

It is about a MILLION DEGREES out here right now, which I am NOT A FAN OF. It's only May 2! It's not supposed to be hot until at LEAST June!

Yeah, that had about the effect on the weather you think it did.

On the plus side, there are curtains on the windows. We had guests up in March (oh fuck, that was March already) and that prompted me to move really quickly through the rest of the "getting the house put together" business that I'd been neglecting since we moved in. Oops. Well, no, since I got it finished in time. But... yeah, so I'm not the most prompt about that.

But as I was saying, there are curtains on all the windows now, so we can have the windows open and the curtains drawn, so we still get air but can wander around naked if we like, and seeing as how it's about A MILLION DEGREES OUT, that's on the plan.

If this is what getting older entails, I am NOT INTERESTED.

2010-01-31T01:09:00.001-05:00

While digging around in old computer backups tonight looking for some music that somehow fell OUT of my iTunes library, I came to the realization that I have turned down a shocking, shocking number of opportunities of the sexual nature in my life.

At this point in my life, I have to admit, my first reaction is whyyyyyyy.

Like, there were three guys in 2003 - THREE - while I was NOT with Jay, who were all about it. Why on earth did I not do anything about that? Seriously? What the hell was I thinking?

There was another guy in 2005. Didn't do a blessed thing.

There's been a few more this year (okay so odd-numbered years tend to be good, okay). There were all the guys in college who I didn't realize until well AFTER college that they were hitting on me.

Christ I feel fucking stupid.

To be a bit more fair to myself, I do know a bit of what I was thinking. High school having done a number on me but good, the idea that anyone found me attractive was not a feeling I trusted. I never quite believed that anyone genuinely found me likeable and attractive in a sexual sense. I always figured they had some ulterior motive that generally involved my public humiliation.

Then there was the fact that I was brought up to believe that you shouldn't have sex before marriage, and once you're married, you stay married. I still believe in the second, although the first I've done a lot of work to unlearn. However, again in 2003, while I'd gotten around it to the point where having sex with Jay was okay, it wasn't completely okay, and the idea of having sex with more than one person in my lifetime was ZOMG WTF scary.

Still, the older french thinks the younger french was a bit of a frikken dipshit. Just... CHRIST WHAT WAS WRONG WITH YOU AUGH GOD.

New year! Sweet lord!

2010-01-19T23:55:00.000-05:00

My god, when did it get to be mid-January.

Oh wait. After the frenzy of making sure I had Christmas gifts for everyone, including the in-laws (which, oh god, what a challenge - what do you get people you don't know well, aren't fond of, and who have everything they want anyway, especially when your partner is no help?), wrapping and shipping gifts as required, driving two days each way to see my family for the holiday, driving back home for New Years, having Vinnie up for New Years, going back to work, working on two routines for dance showcases at the end of the month, having friends over, attending a couple of birthday parties and OH RIGHT working... yeah.

I really would have liked to ring in the new year with something, oh, KINKY, but with Vinnie up that wasn't going to happen. True, we now have a guest room, and it's not right next to the bedroom, and both doors were closed, but still. And now that Jay and I are both working long hours again, we pretty much get home at night, eat something, vegitate, and go to sleep. We just haven't had the energy to do much else.

Sad part is, we're both working on major projects for work, so who knows when that will change! Seriously, we like our jobs, but UGH.

However, one of my goals for the next year is to blog once a week. SO. Even though I may not be participating in anything kinky, I am going to make the effort to talk about it. That should be a good time, right?

Right?!

Once again beaten

2009-12-19T19:59:00.000-05:00

The intersection of feminism and kink has come up a lot this past week in the blogosphere - at least the parts I frequent - and naturally, someone has already posted and included a lot of the thoughts I have.

Not all of them, but a lot of them.

Anyway, I highly recommend that y'all read this over at Sugarbutch.

Blah.

2009-12-13T02:10:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure when it got to be 2 am, and how it got to be 2 am without my getting done much of anything I wanted to. The lights still aren't on the Christmas tree, laundry is still unfinished, the new computer still isn't set up... but hey, I tagged a whole bunch of posts and read a whole lot of crap on the internet!

*sigh*

I also have like, no Christmas presents bought for anyone - for most people, I have ZERO IDEA what I'm going to get them. My house is a mess and I'm having people over in early January, I don't know what I'm going to bake, this coming week at work is going to be insane...

Eh. Whatever. I think I'm going to go to bed.

Bitten

2009-12-06T22:23:00.002-05:00

The first clue I had that perhaps my attaction to Hal was not entirely of the platonic sort was when he mentioned his fangs.

I have a very sensitive neck, and sensitive ears as well. Jay has made me squirm and shriek just by coming near them, and a breath across the right patch of skin raises goosebumps down the entire corresponding side of my body, something which Jay finds endlessly entertaining. I'm rather protective of these areas, as goosebumps are not my idea of fun very often.

Perhaps that's why I like to be bitten - having my ears gently gnawed, or my neck tenderly nibbled - or not so tenderly - is quite arousing for me. Having other parts bitten is enjoyable as well, but the sensitivity of the skin on my neck and ears adds something to the deal. Having my neck bitten makes my eyes roll back in my head as my entire body shudders in pleasure, my breath coming hot and heavy.

When I first met Hal, we immediately clicked. You know how it is with some people, where you know immediately upon meeting them that they are absolutely supposed to be a part of your life and there was a part of you just waiting for them to show up? That kind of click. If it weren't for the circumstances under which I met him, which prohibit our having anything other than a professional relationship right now, he'd immediately have taken his place as one of my best friends ever. He'd be the kind of friend to spend the night at the bar with me, take in a Sox game, just hang out and play video games, and have geeky, intense, ridiculous conversations with late at night. He would be, as I told him, one of "the posse".

We discovered early on that we're geeky in so many similar ways, although he has an unfortunate preference for Spider-Man rather than Batman. We discussed games, and more comics, etc. and so on and were talking more about our personal lives when he mentioned the pair of fangs he owns.

My fevered little brain immediately granted me the image and sensation of him using those fangs on my neck.

Up until that moment, I would have sworn - in fact, did, to Vinnie - that everything was strictly platonic. I was mostly kidding myself, I think; most of our conversations consisted of the sort of flirting one sees in the "I make fun of you because I like you" stage, although I really was somewhat convinced that it didn't mean anything other than two friends good-naturedly ragging on each other. Clearly, my body and mind had other ideas, as they have frequently told me since.

Everyone loves mail, part II

2009-12-02T21:15:00.003-05:00

Arriving in the mail today, courtesy of my credit card and the fine folks at Blowfish:

A miniature "I Rub My Fishie" - did y'all know that it comes with its own shower shelf? It totally does. I think it's going to live in our shower (ps living by ourselves is AWESOME)
A Feeldoe

Oh yes, a Feeldoe. Did I mention that we're both switches? Mwahahahah.

As for the previous mail, we did in fact try out the new clamps on Monday night. I was sitting on the couch wasting time and half-watching the football game (serious Patriots, that was not your best outing) when Jay walks in with the new clamps delicately jingling in his hand and says "Take off your shirt."

Oh. Well then.

I give him a conflicted look and took it off, then asked him why he said I should take it off.

"Because they you can take off your bra."

Oh.

The bra comes off and Jay moves over by me to put on the clamps. The good news: the clamps are adjustable and since this week is apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for my nipples, they felt fantastic. The bad news is that my nipples are bigger than I thought (and I will swear that they're bigger than they used to be) and so the clamps don't really fit on them. I stood up and they both promptly fell off.

Not to be deterred, Jay shooed me in to the bedroom and bid me remove the rest of my clothing, whereupon he clipped them to my labia, where they could again delicately jingle. They still felt really good (like, really good; it's just apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for all of my body) but the jingling kind of broke my head. Every time I breathed there would be this gentle chiming from the rings as they swayed and hit each other, and I found it juuust a bit disconcerting.

My head got broken even worse when he clipped the rings together. Oh goody, just what a sadist always wanted, a fucking handle. And yes, I do mean that in both senses.

Everyone loves mail.

2009-11-30T22:11:00.002-05:00

Arriving in the mail today:

An assortment of spreader bars, including a couple of 4" ones, for which we have some very specific purposes in mind
Adjustable nipple clamps with 1" metal rings dangling from them
A small bottle of Liquid Silk lube

This is exciting for me. Not least of which is because wow, could I please have my nipples tortured a bit please? KTHXBAI. Seriously.

Jay spent some more quality time last night pinching and twisting them, to the same reaction. His comment was "You know, I've always been told that nipples aren't faucets, but damned if they don't work that way on you." It doesn't work that way all the time, but hooo boy am I going to enjoy it while it does.

It's kind of a pity that Monday Night Football is on, because otherwise I'd so totally be in bed convincing Jay to try out the nipple clamps on me.

Actually... we live by ourselves, and the shades are closed. HMMM.

Seriously, what the hell.

2009-11-29T23:25:00.003-05:00

Why is it that some times, Jay pinching and twisting my nipples makes me scream in pain, and some times (like last night) it is the HOTTEST MOST WONDERFUL THING EVER.

On maturity

2009-11-28T18:10:00.005-05:00

I wasn't kidding when I said that 2009 was the year of men in my life. There's a lot to unpack with that, so I'm going to try to not blow the entire load in one entry because that would be silly (blogging hang-ups: I haz them), but I do want to talk about it.

First and foremost, Jay and I got married early this year. That didn't really change our relationship (except legally), I don't think. We've been together for most of the past 10 years (ten years! TEN YEARS, dear god, ten years). We've lived together, lived apart, shared bills, slept in the same bed practically since we met each other, been to each other's family gatherings and holidays and weddings and funerals, and been a linked pair in most of our family's and friends' minds for a long time now.

People keep asking me how it feels to be married, as if it were some life-altering totally radical change in our relationship. I don't have an answer for them, because it did not radically alter our relationship. We giggle that we're married, and are ridiculous entertained by referring to each other as "husband" and "wife". Yes, we're twelve, what of it? But the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed. I refer to him as my partner for a number of reasons, but first and foremost because that's what he is. We've both worked hard - damned hard - to have a relationship of equals, and just because cultural baggage says we're not, doesn't mean I want that.

What it has changed, however, is our relationship to other people.

Some of it is more simple - we're allowed to sleep in the same room when we visit my parents, we were asked to bring a dish to his family's Thanksgiving dinner (finally). Some of it a little more complex - we now have a social life as a couple, that we didn't before, for starters.

And some of it is just... well. I think there's a cultural meme in the US that more or less goes like this: "She's married! You can't have a thing for her!" Its counterpart is "She's married! Of course she only finds her husband attractive!", or "You're married! Stop looking at other people!"

As some of you may realize, oh, I haz problems with those. Lordy do I have problems with those.

The short answer is "I'm married. I'm not DEAD."

The idea that as a married woman, my entire sexuality, the entirety of my desire, the entirety of my capacity for normal human attraction is supposed to be focused on my husband is so ridiculously problematic - for both of us. First off, that's a hell of a load to put on any one person. Being the sole focus of a person, the sole fulfiller of their desires and needs, is something I'm not sure anyone is truly capable of doing. It's practically a full-time job in itself, and even with babies, for whom we, by definition, have to meet all their needs, most people have at least one other person to help them, if not more. And the list of adult needs and desires is generally considerably longer than a child's.

Secondly, it's unbelievably limiting for me. News flash: Jay is not the only attractive person on the planet (and I'm not interested in a planet without David Tennant, so). The expectation that marriage should be blinders on me, and make me deny the existance of other people (like David Tennant) and my own feelings (which include lusting after delicious accents... among other things) is an expectation that I will, literally, deny myself. The idea that as a woman, my very sight is to be subjugated to the bonds of marriage is really just one more way that the world is trying to tell me that I'm less than and don't matter. It's a way to deny my agency and will, and feelings, and it makes me less of a whole person.

Denying that I find someone attractive is, at its core, lying. It's lying to myself, it's lying to Jay, it's lying to everyone. It's pretending that a part of me is inconvenient and therefore it doesn't exist. To put it mildly, I have better things to do than this, because it takes a hell of a lot of effort to do that. I think it also plays in to a lot of the power structure of patriarchy, and being one of those radical individuals who believes that women are people, too, I like to do my best to overthrow that on a regular basis.

Similarly, other people denying that they find me attractive is also lying. Marriage did not magically make me an unattractive person. (In some ways, it made me more attractive - being with Jay has helped me make a lot of changes in my self-confidence and presentation.) But the idea that since I am now married, and "off the market", if you will, means that other people are not supposed to find me more than superficially attractive ("oh, what a nice dress") is absolutely mental.

So okay, all well and good, we're allowed to find other people attractive, regardless of their relationship status. So what do we do about it? And there, I think, is the tricky part, and where perhaps some of these strictures and memes came out of.

Every relationship is different. The relationship and boundaries that Jay and I have negotiated (I wanted to say "painstakingly negotiated", 'cause it sounds good, but it would be a lie) is not the same relationship that anyone else has negotiated. It's the one that works for us, at this time and place. (And besides that, it's pretty freaking awesome, if I do say so myself.) One of our "clauses", for lack of a better word, is "You can look, but you can't touch." In other words, we acknowledge that we're both going to find other people attractive and interesting, but dating them, snogging them, shagging them, etc. is verboten. And, perhaps most importantly, we trust each other to stick to this.

That, I think, is the key, and where some of these memes came from. We are able to trust each other to feel those feelings of attraction, desire, lust, and recognize that not all of those feelings are going to be directed at each other. And we also trust each other to not act on those feelings. I can trust Jay to not make a move on his wildly attractive skiing friend, even when I'm not around. Jay can trust me to not make a move on my ridiculously cute dance instructor, even when he's not around.

That is, apparently, a bit weird for some people, and where we get the limits on feelings and desire. If you can't trust a person to feel their feelings and act upon them (or not act, as the case may be) in an acceptable way the next step is to limit those feelings. If you don't feel it - or at least tell yourself you don't feel it - there's nothing to act upon, now is there?

And it's where I get some of the relationship changes with other people I mentioned. Apparently, now that I'm no longer a "single woman", I'm entitled to a certain kind of deference and denial that people are attracted to me. Even though as a "single woman", I was in a long-term, committed exclusive relationship, I was still "okay" as a target of attraction, and it was more permissible (and forgivable) that others would find me attractive. Now that I'm married, some people think that's no longer okay.

It's added an extra, unwelcome dynamic to some of my relationships and conversations, such as those with Joseph (oh yes, he's popped back in to my life again... but that's a discussion for another time). We had a conversation in which he explicitly said that he felt weird and guilty about finding me attractive (and fantasizing about me) because of the fact that I'm married. Which I tried to dismantle as gently as I could, for the reasons outlined above. I mean really... what's changed is a piece of paper. I'm still me, and it's me he's attracted to, not the piece of paper. Why should that change?

I'm still not going to do anything about it, after all. For a lot of reasons, but the biggest is because that's not what my relationship with Jay allows for. And the fact that I can be so terribly mature about that is apparently blows some people's minds.

It's a problem when a self-avowed 12-year-old is more capable of relationship maturity than self-avowed "adults". Seriously.

I'm told the term I'm looking for may be "Saturn Return"

2009-11-28T03:04:00.007-05:00

I've been working my way through the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2009, and discovering lots and lots of fantabulous new reading material.

My blogroll is sadly out of date.

Hell, this blog is sadly out date. Yes, it's been well over a year since I've posted here. At the time I really dropped off, August of 2008, I had moved with Jay to a crappy tiny apartment, I had a crappy job that sucked the life out of me (almost literally; I wound up distressingly ill while working it), my life was a mess.

Clearly, some things have changed.

There's so much to write about! 2009 has been the year of men in my life! We moved to a brand new apartment that has a room we're seriously considering making a semi-permanent playroom! There are hooks more or less permanently attached to the head and footboards! Jay and I got officially married! I have a much better job, that while I hate it, doesn't make me sick! I have been thinking about and wanting and having sex again!

Seriously. Part of my adult identity has been my libido and sexual tastes, and for a while they were just... gone. It was fairly distressing. Added to all of the other things that were fucking my shit up last year, and the tail end of 2008 and, if we're honest, probably the first half of 2009 were a head-fuck of gigantic proportions.

But now that things have started progressing again, it occurs to me that having this self-created safe space to verbally work out some of the things in my head and in my life is probably a helpful, useful thing, and it probably behooves me to utilize it.

So. I'm back.

And updating my damn blogroll, jaysus christ that thing is a mess.

Wait, what?

2008-08-03T22:11:00.003-04:00

When did it get to be August?

No, really, when did it get to be August.

I am so not ready for it to be August.

Also, as a maintenance note, I know I've kind of dropped off of the face of the internet for a while. I don't know when I'll be back regularly; I'm in the middle of the 18-months-of-weddings. Seriously. It started with a friends' wedding in March. By September of next year, I will have attended no less than FIVE ADDITIONAL WEDDINGS, a couple of which I get to be involved in. Plus, I'm moving, and, I got a new job. It's been a little nuts around here.

Oh christ jesus

2008-04-14T15:34:00.004-04:00

Interestingly enough, during the interlude between my last post and last night, I spent most of my time being top-py. I got to do a lot of tying up of Jay and tickling him until his face turned red and he was almost crying, which is ever so much fun :)

Meanwhile, most of the reason I wanted to post is that, for the most part, we just bummed around the house all weekend. Well, not the bumming, but what happened during the bumming, I suppose.

Jay had hopped in to the shower, and he comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and walks up to me where I am sitting on the couch in the living room and grabs my hand. I am assuming that he wants to drag me in to the bedroom, which I am amenable to, so I start to get up. He shakes his hand, and shoves it under the towel, so that I can have the wonderful experience of grabbing freshly shaven balls.

Since sincere fondling would not be a good idea in the living room, as my flatmates are home, I take the opportunity to drag him in the bedroom and thoroughly inspect them. I approve.

I then shove his hand in my pants, so that he can enjoy the fact that I at least trimmed my pubic hair. What can I say, I've been lazy. Then we get the great idea that, you know, since we're not doing anything else, why don't I go and finish the job?

It only took me forty minutes! Actually, I probably shouldn't be proud of that.

The snatch has not been this smooth and hairless since probably some time in the first W administration, something else I should probably not be proud of. At the very least, this is the first time in a long while I did not just try to do everything in the shower. That is a pain in the ass, almost literally. Thanks to the boobs, I really can't see anything down there when I'm standing up. It's hard enough to shove them far enough out of the way when I'm sitting to do so, but it does work a lot better.

Saying that we had sex (kinky sex!) after that is kind of anti-climactic, but we did, and it was good, and yes, it really was the first time I was the bottom since February.

I feel so naked!

to put the world to rights

2008-02-05T22:59:00.001-05:00

You know, it's really difficult to take pictures of really tall boots while you're wearing them. At least, I find it difficult to get a picture that I like.

A week or two ago, I had asked Jay if he'd be willing to indulge me in what I believe I termed as "serious rope". Not so much predicament bondage, or anything that would cause me pain in any way, but being seriously tied up and immobilized by vast quantities of rope. There's a kind of zen in being unable to move like that, in the presence of someone you love. I needed that.

For whatever reason, we haven't managed it yet. We've both been tired - me more than usual; hating my job tends to make me sleepy, which I am ascribing to mild depression - and busy. I spent the weekend at a friend's house last weekend, which also didn't afford us many opportunities to do anything. And, Jay being Jay, he wanted to have a definite plan in mind.

I'm not posting this to complain, however it might seem. But... I still need that moment of calm. I need to feel that giving up of the effort to control everything - giving up that feeling that I have to be in control, like I have to be in charge and be a rational adult. It's difficult for me to relax completely unless I'm forced to. Rope just happens to be a really good way of calming me down, and giving me the ability to let go and just be. It's one of the few things that can reliably shut my nattering mind up, without giving it extra things to work over later.

My calendar is looking rather free on Saturday at the moment. I think that I will be penciling him in, if he's amenable to the idea.

Still don't want to have sex.

2008-01-30T22:55:00.002-05:00

You know, judging by the fact that I took work off today so that I could sleep and avoid it, and reading back on all the entries here about how annoyed at work I am and generally feeling crappy, I have come to the conclusion that it is, once again, time to find a new job.

My current job is not, so not, in the field I want to be in right now. I mostly took this job because it would be easy, low-stress, and something that would not interfere with graduate school. Admittedly, it did that admirably. It also pays me well and is pretty flexible, and my boss is very understanding about little things like health problems.

However, this job is also boring the bejesus out of me. At this point, it's too easy. I feel like I have completely mastered any and everything they've thrown at me in the past year and a half. Also, I have a new boss. Theoretically, this also comes with new duties, which were supposed to happen the beginning of this month, then they were supposed to happen at the end of March, and now they're supposed to be "in progress" right now and totally my deal by the end of March. This is part of the ongoing reorg that the department I'm in is going through, and it's totally being handled poorly. Just like it has been for the past year.

The thing is, even with the new duties, I'm not going to be doing what I want to do, which, right now, is social work. Admittedly, that's easier to do if I finish my degree, and I'm probably not going back to school until next year, at this point, for a number of reasons. But, current job is stable, current job theoretically is giving me a huge raise soon, and theoretically also giving me better benefits soon.

The new duties are also not going to distance me very much from the annoying people that I hate. You know, the ones that are incapable of reading their email, instead preferring to call me six times to ask the same question that I answered in the email to them three weeks ago. Yeah, those people. Still going to have to work with them. All set with working with them. You do not even know how all set.

So at this point, I have to figure I have a couple of options, looking something like this:

Stay in job, suck it up, deal with it, and wait until new duties come along, hoping that the raise goes through and then I will really be able to put away some dough. This is likely to result in an extremely poor state of mental health, if my history is anything to go by.
Stay in job, and start volunteering again at the agency I was at before graduate school. This would likely alleviate some of the worst pangs of "ugh, this is not where I am meant to be," but still doesn't solve the problem of idiocy. Yes, I know, idiocy is everywhere, but at least if I moved, it would be different idiocy.
Stay in job, and see if I can't get back in to grad school for this year. Part of the reason I left grad school, was that they would not work around the fact that I had a 9-5 job, even though I was in the program specifically for people with jobs. Part of the reason I'm not back yet is because I want to make sure that if I go back into a program, they really are going to work around the fact that I work, and not just give lip service to the idea.
Get a new job.

The first is right out. I'm already to the point where I'm calling off of work because I hate it, so really, making zero changes ain't going to cut it. I am undecided on the other three. Any bright ideas?

Note:

2008-01-25T18:59:00.001-05:00

Apparently black patent leather, 4" spike heel, knee-high, lace-up-like-a-corset boots really do it for Jay.

Things that bother me, version 6742

2008-01-23T12:59:00.001-05:00

People who don't pay attention. Seriously. Unfortunately, I work with a lot of people who don't pay attention. Most often, it takes the form of asking me the same question multiple times. This is especially annoying when, before you could even ask the question, I sent you an email with documentation which, should you choose to read it and retain some information, will answer your question. I mean, I understand people forget. Hell, I do it all the time. But forget one week after I sent you that email? Pay. the fuck. attention. asshat.
Sanctimonious gestures. This came up from Manolo for the Brides, which is part of the superfantastic group of Manolo blogs, most of which I read obsessively regardless of actual relevance to my life. Anyway, I am firmly on the side of the blogger here - giving a donation to charity in lieu of favors - and then telling your guests that you did it - is a sanctimonious piece of show-offery and is, quite frankly, bullshit. Look dude, I don't care if you want to give to charity. That's your money, your business. I don't even care which charity or charities you support. But when you drag me in to it - whether my name was given to the charity or not - dude, now you're just a prick. I couldn't care less about favors. I do care about pharisaic gestures.
Books that treat kink like a sickness. I admit, I read a lot of crap paperbacks. Whatever, they're cheap and very escapist. I happen to like Kay Hooper's SCU novels. A lot. But I really hate that in one of them, one of the murder victims has a pretty sweetly equipped dungeon in his basement, and it's referred to as "sick", "twisted", "perverted", etc. and so on. And how one of the other characters says "It's not something most women would enjoy." Okay, one, BDSM is not, in and of itself, sick. Please make the distinction between BDSM in general, and what this guy did in particular - which, given that he was 30-something and his partner was 12, is in fact pretty fucked up. What two consenting non-abusing adults do in their bedroom is not sick. Sex is not sick, toys are not sick, playing with sensations is not sick, for fuck's sake.

And finally...
Making assumptions about what I like, just because I have tits. Just because I appear to be female, does not mean I like "what most women like". For example, I happen to like kink! In fact, after the Flea, I'm discovering that a lot of women happen to like kink, and a lot of my friends do, too. Surprise! I also don't like diamond rings, white dresses, dresses in general, and fancy luncheons. (Can you tell I've been reading a few books about the commercialization of American weddings lately? Fascinating how fucked-up it all is.) I don't like a lot of perfumes (I'm allergic to most of them), I don't like receiving "girly" gifts (please don't give me scented or otherwise fancy soaps or lotions; I won't use them, because I don't like how a lot of them smell), I really hate bachelorette parties (and no, bachelorette really is not a word), I really hate shopping, and quite honestly, I would rather shoot myself than do a lot of stereotypical female things. I like what I like, regardless of its traditional gender role. Please stop making assumptions about me, it gets really annoying.

I popped my con cherry

2008-01-16T20:16:00.001-05:00

So Jay and I have been traveling this past week, and part of the itinerary included Providence, RI, home to a few good friends of ours from college who we haven't seen for a while. It happened to be my friend Elaina's birthday this past weekend as well, which neatly coincided with the New England Leather Alliance's Fetish Fair Fleamarket. In conversations with Elaina prior to the weekend, it was decided that we should spend the day on Saturday at the Flea, you know, since we were in the neighborhood and all.

Now, my initial reaction, after I agreed to this idea of hers, because of course I agreed to this because I am cool and cosmopolitan, was, HOMIGOD, I am going to be out in public at a kinky event and I am not sure this was a good idea. You see, for all of my sophistication, I don't do the whole "no, really, I'm kinky" thing. You know, there's a reason that this blog is anonymous, okay? I am not okay with being "out there", at least with kink.

So I sucked it up and went anyway. There were a half a dozen of us who went, and while I thought it would be really weird to be at a kinky convention with friends who don't know that I'm kinky it... well, wasn't. The nice thing about these friends is that they're all adults and really couldn't care less.

Now, when we first got there, I was kind of freaking out a little bit. I wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to handle the whole "convention" thing. So, I treated it like I was at an event back in the days when I worked in the queer community - just relax, don't stare, take it all in stride. And, it worked. True, I saw some really odd things there, and I did repeat "your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay" a LOT, but, honestly, I had a pretty good time.

There were a couple of, well, moments. First was one of those "holy shit, people from the internets are REAL" moments, when I got to meet Monk and alex and bought rope from them. I like to think I was a cool customer. I probably wasn't. I was thisclose to saying "teehee I read your blog" and introducing myself. That was a little too gutsy for me, however, so I settled for buying lots of rope, and being disappointed that there was no Bavarian Blonde.

The second was when I guess I gave away a little too much, because Elaina totally gave me a look, like, "how do you know this?" One of her other friends was going to a class, and she was trying to figure out which one. She mentioned that it was being given by Midori, and I said, without thinking, "Oh, probably something about rope bondage then". She Looks at me. I shrug it off and say "I am the queen of knowledge on the internet, dude." I think she suspects that is not so much the case.

Finally, Jay bought me a corset. It is delicious and wonderful and I loves it SO MUCH.

But yes, a good time was had by all. I may even be persuaded to attend another public kinky event at some point. Maybe.

My house looks like a tornado hit it

2008-01-02T15:03:00.001-05:00

Best part? I haven't even been here for the past two weeks. And I didn't even host any parties! It's all leftovers from frenzied baking, present-wrapping, packing for trips, etc. and so on.

Pretty much the entirety of the past two months has gone by in a blur. From painting Elizabeth's house in early November, to Thanksgiving with Jay's family (oh god, why was that a good idea) to Christmas with mine and New Year's out of state and this and that and that other thing and HOLY CHRIST I have no idea where I just spent two months and sixteen hojillion dollars. Can't tell you.

I am not ready for it to be 2008. I am not ready to go back to work (which is why I didn't today). I am not ready to tackle the unpacking, the laundry, the cleaning (jesus christ, there's a spiderweb between my couch and my bookshelf), the restocking of food and coming up with healthy things to eat and the getting back on track with being healthy and just EVERYTHING. I am not currently prepared to cope with life as usual.

So I am going to put up my feet. I am going to do up my new calandar (that cost me twenty freaking bucks! What the fuck!) because that will make me feel more organized. I may or may not sign in to my work email. I am going to get myself a glass of wine, of which I bought a ridiculous amount this past weekend. I am going to throw my ski clothes in the wash, and then I am going to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special because I STILL haven't goddamned managed to do that!

I hope you all had wonderful holidays, whatever or however you celebrate, and wish you all the best in 2008 (jesus, it's 2008, that's horrifying).

I cannot wait for this week to be over

2007-10-31T21:26:00.001-04:00

Can someone please explain to me why so many people have trouble following simple, goddamn written down directions?

I would really like to know. Because if I know why they can't handle it, maybe I have a shot at fixing it, and I won't have to repeat a week like this one, where if it can be fucked up at work, it has been fucked up, and 99% of the fuck-ups are because people cannot follow directions.

give me another round of...

2007-10-23T20:45:00.001-04:00

You know, I like this "going to doctors and getting answers" thing. Not only did I find out what the hell was going on with my abdomen (and yes, it's possible that it was the main source of pain all along), but I also found out what's going on with my shoulder. That's only been screwed up for, oh, five months?

Leaving the question of why I wasn't booked with the clinic's shoulder specialist in the first place, I finally saw him yesterday. Diagnosis? Biceps tendinitis and a torn labrum. Which apparently was visible on the MRI, if you were looking for it. Glad I want to see him; I like knowing these sorts of things.

Basically, the torn labrum thing (well, and the tendinitis) is something that will just have to get better more or less on its own. However, we are going to try to speed up the process using physical therapy; I have my first evaluation appointment this coming Tuesday. While PT isn't my favorite thing in the world, I'll deal with it if it means less shoulder hurting.

I really, really like having explanations for things. It makes it a lot easier to deal with if I have a label for it.

Soporific

2007-10-22T19:39:00.002-04:00

I had already taken off my clothes, and was sprawled across the bed in all my naked glory. Behind me, Jay was undressing.

It was a late night; we were both tired and had stayed up watching baseball. I hear the belt come out of the loops, and then nothing else. I turn, see him holding the belt with a considering look in his eye, and dive under the covers.

Meep.

I hear him set the belt down, and poke my head out to look at him, raising one of my eyebrows.

He looks back at me, and I remind him that there is a world of difference between "Oh the HELL you're doing that to me" and "oh my god please don't do that to me", and we were definitely in the territory of the latter.

Once having this properly explained to him, Jay proceeded to put me to sleep by applying his belt to my ass. And it was fantastic.

Talk about anti-climactic

2007-10-15T21:43:00.002-04:00

Well, the good news is that I do not have a kidney infection, nor do I have any of the other potential things that quite honestly, were a bit scary. I did have an ovarian cyst that burst, apparently, which is kind of sucky, but in terms of things I would rather have it be, there's not really that many.

Better news, there weren't any more abnormal cysts on the CT scan, and now that I'm not completely losing my shit, I should really start feeling better. Which, I do. At the very least, I'm much more calm, and that really does help a lot. Things are not perfect, but at the very least I have a diagnosis, and I have a timeline besides "we don't know".

Work... kinda still sucks, but now that I have one less thing to worry about, it's a little easier to take.

Mostly what I've been up to, I guess you could call nesting. I cleaned the blankets for my bed, and I made a wreath for my front door, and I'm cooking and baking again. I'm also starting a container garden on my back porch, which so far includes garlic. Yup, pretty awesome. I'm going to put some tulips in later this week. One of my garlic cloves is already sprouting (which I am told they tend to do and is totally okay), so that is exciting, because my green thumb, not usually so green.

Other than that, I am waiting on ski season. Oh, and feeling obligated (by no one but myself) to spend Thanksgiving with Jay's family. This puts a slight kink in my plans to go skiing on Thanksgiving again. Skiing just might win out, familial relations be damned.

Brief update

2007-10-04T18:01:00.001-04:00

Had my CT scan yesterday. Can I just share, why are there incompetent nurses out there? I had blood taken on Monday. When she jabbed the needle into my arm, I about jumped off the table it hurt so badly - and it's not like I haven't had blood taken about six ZILLION times before; I can usually tell them exactly which vein to use, and it doesn't normally hurt. This, this hurt.

Result: huge bruise on my right forearm.

Wednesday, for the CT scan, not only did I have to drink nearly a liter of barium contrast medium (which is awful, ps), and put up with the waiting room (which was awful, ps), I got to have an IV put in my left arm so that they could also inject me with iodine. I've had IVs dropped in my arms, too. She's all prepping for my right arm (guess she didn't see the GIGANTIC BRUISE), so I tell her to use the left, which I also know from experience functions marvelously for venipuncture. Again, so much pain, I about jump off the table. I do not know why this is so complicated, especially when it's your damn job.

Anyway, I have an appointment with my doctor next week to discuss the results. In the meantime, I feel like crap and haven't worked yesterday or today. I am really, really glad that my boss is 100% understanding and supportive.

Also, I napped on my couch again today, and left a truly magnificent drool spot on my pillow. I literally woke up in a puddle. It was pretty awesome.

What if I say I'm not like the others?

2007-09-20T21:13:00.001-04:00

First, the doctor-bullshit update:

Shoulder MRI? Completely normal. So I say to the doctor, "So if it's normal, why does it hurt?" His answer? "I don't know. Do you want to do PT, or see the guy in the office who specializes in shoulders and is in fact giving a lecture on shoulders at a conference at this very minute?" I opted for the shoulder guy, and spared a minute to wonder why the receptionist didn't book me with him in the first place - considering I told her I needed to have my shoulder checked out!

Other stuff: I went to the new doctor, and holy god, my blood pressure and pulse were normal. That hasn't happened at the doctor's office for years. She sat, listened to everything, asked some questions my other doctor didn't bother to ask, poked and prodded, and is having me set up for a CT scan. She is much more willing to work with me to find an answer - but, was honest enough to tell me that nothing in medicine is 100%. I looked at her, and said "Yeah, but I'd settle for like, 75 or so", and she laughed and said "I'll bet we can at least do that."

So I feel better about that. Still hurt, still feel like crap, but, progress has been made.

This weekend, I'm going to a bachelorette party and the wedding - the party being the one I mentioned the scrapbook was requested. I still don't do overly emotional stuff, so I am opting to stop at the liquor store and bring my friend a very nice bottle of something alcoholic. I figure it's still in line with the bachelorette party theme, but does not make me want to vomit to think about it. And, I know it won't be unappreciated. I talked with Rabbit, who is one of the bridesmaids, and she agrees that a bottle of booze would not come amiss - being as how our mutual friend s well aware of how I view things like "scrapbooking" and "special memories" and "girly shit", and also happens to share my taste in beverages.

I don't like bachelorette parties anyway. Well, not ones with OMG PENIS PENIS PENIS LET'S DO RIDICULOUS THINGS IN PUBLIC PENIS PENIS PIE themes, anyway. Honestly, for mine, I am content to get together a bunch of my friends, of all genders, and go out to a bar and drink. That's it. Not a club, no games, nothing. Or maybe, go to a casino, drink, and gamble. That's it. Like, we don't need to giggle over the fact that I'm going to have sex; we're not sixteen and I've had it before. Nor do we really need to make fools of ourselves in public. It is really just unnecessary.

Also, why the hell is it that whenever I find a pair of jeans I adore, they promptly discontinue them? Like, my Gap boot-cut button-flys? Discontinued. My Venezia Supremes? Discontinued. Swear to god, they wait until I buy it, then stop it. Hate that.

Other than that, Jay's coming over tonight, which is nice, so he can keep me warm. I am enjoying the fact that the nights have been chilly again. Very much so.

Why I am angry

2007-09-18T19:11:00.001-04:00

I'm less angry than I was last week, although still mightily pissy. My level of tolerance for bullshit is at near-record low levels, people.

As for why I am angry, a lot of it revolves around my health and my work (surprise!). The health issues are ongoing, which is why I am angry about them. Basically, I can handle being sick or unhealthy for about a week - maybe two if I'm so sick that I sleep twenty out of twenty-four hours. After a week, by god, I should be feeling better. So, since I've had a shoulder that's screwed up for three months, and random kidney-abdominal-what-the-fuck pain in my back and "suprapubic area" (no lie, that is what my doctor called it; I think it's great), I'd like to shoot something.

Also frustrating is the medical establishment. I had to harass the woman in the shoulder specialists' office for a month before my MRI was scheduled. For two weeks, she was talking to the insurance to get it covered, so okay. But the last two weeks? I know the insurance approved it, because they sent me a letter saying so. Right.

As for the kidneyesque shit, it hasn't gone away. It got slightly better two weeks ago, so I thought maybe I really was on the mend. That would be why I didn't call my doctor to schedule the CT scan on the 4th - 'cause I felt a bit better.

Last Thursday, I didn't go to work, I slept all day. Friday, I woke up in the worst pain in those areas I've had since I first got diagnosed with a freakin' UTI. So I promptly called my doctor's office, and, like she had asked me originally, left a message for her saying that we should go ahead and schedule the CT scan. Again, this was Friday. Morning.

It is now Tuesday, and I have not heard from her. So, I found myself a new PCP and have an appointment with her tomorrow. I am hoping that I will like her more than my last PCP.

I also called the shoulder specialists' office and made an appointment with that doctor to go over the MRI I finally had on Friday. I would like to share, that the tech said I did a very good job and held very still. What she doesn't realize is that this MRI, while it is true that I was in pain through it, was a hell of a lot less painful than the last one I had. That time it was for my back, and, at the time, I didn't know that I had two herniated discs. Right.

Thankfully, my boss is awesome, so I've been keeping her updated with what's going on, and she's 100% okay with me not working tomorrow morning and instead going to both doctors. She is also convinced that I have a kidney stone, but we shall see.

As for the work reasons for angry, basically, I'm filling in for a job that's not mine, but it's in an area that we're short-staffed. It's a support position, and there's one other guy in there who is full-time. The problem is that full-time guy wants to take not a whole lot of responsibility for doing, y'know, his job, which drives me up the damn wall. Any time he can pass a support issue off to someone else, he does, which is so not what he's supposed to be doing. He just is not showing a lot of initiative in figuring out issues, learning stuff, etc., which is highly disappointing. He also seems to be assuming that I'm going to pick up as much as a full-time person, and I am so not, because I so do not have time, because I'm doing all of my regular full-time job - this is just icing on the cake and a favor to my boss (which yes, I know, I know).

I'm also frustrated with another group that's testing all of our applications for next year's planned major OS upgrade, since I have to tell them information six times. I finally got to the point with one of their questions that I simply replied "Please see the attached email of [date] for the answers to your question, which I have already provided to you", and attached the previous email I sent them. Two weeks later, I got the same exact question, from the same exact person.

But my company wants to outsource more IT support. Good plan, oh yeah, excellent idea, it's really worked well so far.

And finally, I'm upset because while I like my job, and I love the people I work with, it's so not what I want to be doing with my life right now. I don't hate it or anything, but I do get frustrated with people not taking responsibility, action, or, y'know, writing shit down, and I get frustrated because I have to work, but it's not what I want to be doing.

That's pretty much it. Just a lot of crap, and a lot of stress, and a lot of feeling blah, and it all really dumped on my head on Wednesday. It's a good thing Jay is so patient, because I highly doubt that I've been extremely pleasant to deal with over the past week.

fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you

2007-09-12T19:56:00.002-04:00

You ever have one of those days, where it sucks ass and you're ready to shoot something even before you get out of bed, and it just goes downhill from there?

Yeah.

I am going to bed now to avoid any further bullshit. I'm so angry I don't even want to talk about it right now.

fuck yeah

2007-09-09T20:11:00.002-04:00

Ah god, I love football season.

I get reminded of things from books all the time

2007-09-05T20:08:00.002-04:00

There's a certain statue at my alma mater that, local lore has it, will come to life and disappear if a virgin ever graduates.

I remember being told this as a fresh-faced 18-year-old, straight from the Midwest and convicted as all hell, and I determined that the statue would finally leave on my graduation day, if the stories were true.

It didn't, because neither did I.

seriously

2007-09-05T19:21:00.002-04:00

Yo rice. You done been in the slow cooker with the chicken on high for three hours, with extra liquid in the sauce so that you could soak it the fuck up. Is there a reason you're not done besides "I hate you"?

Bitchin'

2007-08-28T20:54:00.001-04:00

So, I might still have a kidney infection. I'm not sure. I finished week two of the seriously-not-fucking-around antibiotics last week, and... this week I still have to pee all the time, and my kidney-area is still hurting me, and I'm still uncomfortable as hell. SUPERAWESOME!!!1*&$^

I realize that, right, the smart idea would be to, I don't know, call my doctor, but I don't want to for a few reasons. First, I hate her. Secondly, I hate her. C, the ultrasound of my kidneys and bladder came back completely normal, so that makes me think that maybe I'm crazy and there's nothing wrong with me (except there is), and four, I hate going to a doctor and not being told what is wrong. It's like, if I'm going to actually go and physically see the doctor because something is wrong with me, I want an answer to what is wrong with me, and a solution that, y'know, works. Guesses, speculation, and "I don't know", I can do myself, and much more affordably (just wait until you see my rates! And you thought a $10 copay was cheap).

Unfortunately, of the times I have gone to a doctor in the past five years with a problem, only once have I gotten an actual answer and a treatment that worked. That was the time I was freaking hospitalized. Other than that? "Well... try this. It might be this. We don't know why you're having these symptoms because all of the tests come back normal."

I hate that shit, yo.

Fifth, I hate her, and while I don't want to work right now, working is a much more attractive option than going to see her.

Other things I need to do include getting the damn alarm taken off my car, go grocery shopping, figure out what the hell else I'm going to eat for lunch and dinner this week (I have to do this, otherwise I revert to eating cheese and junk food for all three meals), and do something with the half of my room that is currently an unorganized pit of despair.

Sounds like a good time to catch up on my blog reading, doesn't it?

Two cranky thoughts

2007-08-21T22:17:00.001-04:00

Can I just share, and I know it's TMI, but having a kidney infection really is not helping my sex life in any way, shape, or form. I am not in to pain, especially not bad pain.

Also, on a similar whiny note, what the hell is it with asking people to bring a scrapbook page "with a special memory and 2-3 pictures" as a shower or bridal gift? Okay, 1, I don't take pictures, and, if I do, it's because I'm on vacation alone and I saw something awesome. I can count on one hand the number of pictures I have of my friends, and 2, I seriously do NOT scrapbook. Like, for reals. Knitting, embroidery and cross-stitch, sewing, baking, cooking, painting, oh hell yeah, but scrapbooking? Please god save me. And this is the third one this year.

fuck shit damn.

2007-08-14T21:40:00.001-04:00

Oh, whoops, I have a blog!

You know, and it's not even that I've been so remarkably busy lately that I just have not had ten minutes to sit down and blog. It's just that, well, I haven't wanted to.

Then again, I haven't wanted to do much of anything lately, which is somewhat worrisome in and of itself.

Anyway, a few updates from the past month:

1. My sister-in-law, that is, the wife of my younger brother (see also: "That's because you can comprehend the ocean"), is pregnant. Approaching four months. The baby is due in February.
2. I am knitting a baby blanket for the baby.
3. My mom's 50th birthday was last week, and Jay and I flew out. It was awesome.
4. I think my sister-in-law doesn't like me. I think she's bat-shit loony, but not because she doesn't like me - because she's bat-shit loony.
5. Brother and wife did not fly out for my mom's birthday.
6. I went to the doctor on my mom's birthday. I had been feeling "off" for, oh, a week or so, but not enough to do anything about it. I'm sitting on the plane, and thinking to myself "oh my god, something is actually wrong with me, I have pain in my lower abdomen." This pain was complemented later that night by pain in my lower right back area. Diagnosis? A UTI that had spread to my kidneys.

Yes, I had one for at least a week before I realized. What? I've never had one before.

7. Have blamed Jay for the UTI.
8. Reminded Jay repeatedly that I am on serious antibiotics for the next week. Antibiotics.
9. Jay did not have sex with me on Sunday night, and I am sad. Well, not penis-in-vagina sex, anyway, which is really what I wanted. I gave him a handjob the next morning though, which was almost as good.
10. Still feel like crap and still have pain in the kidney area, albeit not as bad - but felt crappy and tired enough to not go in to work (which may also be related to the other general malaise I've been feeling lately). Nearly done with the antibiotics. Might call the doctor tomorrow, but I hate her, so maybe I'll see if there's someone else in the office I can see.

And that concludes the updates from the past month. Oh wait, I should also talk about the bachelorette party I went to. Oh god. What a fucking shitshow.

I have got to get out more

2007-07-18T19:53:00.001-04:00

Jay decided on Sunday night that he was sick of not getting any and that whether I liked it or not, something kinky was going down. I let him, because I was kind of getting sick of not getting laid, either.

He puts one of the collars and the leather wrist cuffs on me, and then tells me to get down on all fours on the bed, right up against the footboard. He's got rope out, so I assume that I am to be attached to said footboard in some manner, and I am correct.

The man tied my boobs to the footboard.

This, naturally, broke my head. I mean, don't get me wrong, I bought this bed with the idea that we could tie each other to it - it's a heavy-ass steel or iron or something and there's lots of bars and cross-bars and swirly bits... well, you get the idea. I just didn't expect my boobs to come in to play here.

While my head was broken, Jay got out the crop and practiced his wrist movements for a while, which I did not feel because I was too busy going "so wait, each boob is tied individually to adjacent bars and I cannot move them or myself OH GOD THIS HURTS MY HEAD OH GOD STOP THINKING". Seriously, it was pretty awesome. I had a ridiculously stupid look on my face for at least twenty minutes.

Jay finally untied me (and un-broke my head) when I started shifting around too much it was getting to be an issue. Because my boobs were, you know, attached to the footboard, that meant that my hands were either on top of the board, or supporting weight right in front of me, and eventually my wrists and knees were telling me to fuck off, so I kept moving.

Once he untied me, he proceeded to hook my wrists to the headboard (see? attachment options) and make boob- and pussy-flowers. Unfortunately, the boob-flowers really hurt this time, making me an extremely sad panda. I, was about to cry, and I hate crying.

Meanwhile, Jay had gone to all this trouble, and after the near-crying incident, I was not okay with being awake anymore, and so he wound up coming on my face, which was fine by me because my eyes were closed and I think that if we'd had sex, I would definitely had freaked out, because holy god, pussy-flowers have the amazing side effect of making everything super-sensitive.

We then both got up very late the next morning and bitched all day about being stupid-tired. We are awesome.

"When it detects things, it goes 'ding'!"

2007-07-09T17:52:00.002-04:00

I am not sure how I managed to get through the entirety of my geeky-ass life without seeing even a single minute of Doctor Who prior to June 30, but I somehow did.

I mean, not only do I happen to love a lot of other British TV (Avengers and Waiting for God, anyone?) but I used to watch PBS like it was my job.

Never seen it. Glad I have now. Been watching as many episodes as I can get my hot little hands on.

Also, would do David Tennant six ways from Sunday.

No, no it is not.

2007-07-02T22:17:00.002-04:00

This journal isn't controversial enough, so I figured I could get this little confession out here:

I refuse to support breast cancer research.

Go ahead and read that again if you need to; it's okay. Because there's got to be someone out there thinking She's not really serious, is she? Oh, I assure you, I am.

I do not support breast cancer research.

Now, any other charity, pretty much, I could come out in every day life and be like, "Nah man, I don't donate to that", and it'd be relatively okay. But breast cancer is the biggest sacred cow I have seen lately. I have people in my office who literally say things like "It's ALLLLL about the pink!" in dead seriousness and me, I just can't connect with that. It's like if you're a woman, which means you may or may not have tits, you should be donating every single spare cent and minute to THE CAUSE. In some circles, some places, there is seriously that expectation.

It's not that I don't know the effects of breast cancer - my aunt had it. Cancer has happened in my family, up to and including breast cancer. Cancer sucks it. I would be down with finding a cure (or cures, as it might very well be) to cancer in its various forms.

But really, I, myself, am so, so sick of being bombarded with pink ribbons and pink t-shirts and pink walks and pink this and pink stamps (okay, they're not pink, but you know what I mean) and just PINK PINK PINK.

Okay, I don't even LIKE pink as a color on it's own, okay?

And the thing of it is, the thing of it is, there are so many other things that need supporting and researching. Like AIDS. Or kids, I like kids. I think literacy is a good cause, as are a number of environmental efforts.

And it's not like I'm against science, hello. Or even against research, or breast cancer research in specific. I just don't feel that my dollars need to go to it. There's a whole lot of money that already goes to it, money that I am not entirely sure is actually spent on cancer research, and I would rather support things like my alma mater and AIDS research and alternative power research and Planned Parenthood and buy Christmas gifts for kids in care and things like that.

Also, I don't care if your dollars or minutes or whatever go towards supporting breast cancer research. That's cool, yo, it's all yours to do with as you wish. Mine just won't be joining yours.

Ah, that feels much better. I still won't advertise the fact around the office, but it was nice to advertise it somewhere.

Now all I need is a clothesline

2007-06-26T21:33:00.001-04:00

So when I posted those stupid things I said over the weekend, what two weekends ago?

Completely aside, I remember desperately wanting to get older when I was a kid, and being pissed that time moved too slowly, and now that I'm older, holy shit, time moves WAY too fucking fast, okay?

Anyway, so I said those two things as, clearly, Jay was in the middle of beating my ass, which is what I have tended to use to refer to any and all BDSM-type activities. In this case, he did in fact beat my ass, but, you know, saying that he should beat me does not necessarily mean that I think he should find the nearest implement and whale away at my ass.

In this particular instance, Jay did in fact beat my ass for a while, but there were restraints involved as well. Now, being as I was restrained, I couldn't do much about the fact that Jay is a sadist. I may have covered that a few times here before, but just so that we're all on the same page, Jay is a sadist and frequently likes to remind me that he likes causing me pain. On this occasion, Jay decided to bring out the clothespins and experiment on my boobs.

Now, while Jay is a sadist (did I mention that he's a sadist? good) I am only kind of a masochist. I don't like pain, so much as I like discrete amounts of certain kinds of pain. Clips and clamps on my nipples are usually right out, if I have anything to say about it.

Guess what Jay loves to do? Well, he proceeded to do that, but not content with only using two clothespins from the bag full of them, he decided to put four more, making little compasses out of my boobs.

At this point I am deep-breathing, and in between deep-breathing, staring at him balefully. But I have to admit, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be, said expectations being born out of past experience. I don't know whether it was because I got a very good warm-up, some wonky hormone deal, what, but... my boobs didn't hurt bad. Oh, they hurt, but I was almost kind of enjoying the hurt.

If you've ever read kaya's blog, you've probably seen the pictures of the boob flowers (and if you don't read her blog, you should pop over there). Jay decided to make boob flowers. He put all of the clothespins in the bag on my boobs, continuing those four single clothespins into four rows of clothespins. But there were only about twenty clothespins in that bag, and there were spaces between the clothespins in the rows.

It was at this point that I piped up with my helpful remark about having bought more clothespins. To this day, I am not quite sure what was possessing me at the time. Clearly, my rational mind was not in control at that point. Jay's face naturally lights up and he goes to get the new clothespins, and proceeds to put them on, for a total of 26 pins on each boob.

And I am enjoying myself. For reals, I am laid back and enjoying myself, because this feels kind of good. I was blatantly ignoring that they would have to come off at some point, and instead basking in the warm glow that can only come from being in pain. He twitched them with his fingers, and jiggled my boobs around a bit, and there were a few sharp intakes of breath on my part, but it was not bad pain.

Jay's kind of an asshole though, and he took them off. That sucked. I spent the entire time with my face screwed up tight and trying not to breathe. But still, this wasn't as painful as other times I have had clips and/or clamps applied to my boobs. I wouldn't say that I enjoyed this, but it wasn't that bad. Okay, well, the nipples were that bad, and I almost cried. However, I did not cry, which earned me a "I'm very proud of you; you are a good girl", which, if I had been standing up, I would have blushed, ducked my head, and scuffed my shoe, most of which did not work as I was lying back on the bed.

I don't know that I would ever personally volunteer for that treatment again (then again, it's not about me volunteering, is it?), because this really was a one-in-a-million, I think. Whatever alignment of stars or hormones or whatever happened that day, while I wouldn't mind it happening again, I don't know that I'm going to go out and test for it, you know? But... dammit, I liked it. Oh god, I liked it. And I had a pair of lovely boob flowers to go to sleep with.

new favorite thing

2007-06-26T18:14:00.001-04:00

I am just going to sit over here, and laugh, okay? Thanks. .

Where I have been the past week

2007-06-20T23:17:00.002-04:00

Last Thursday, I flew home to go to my cousin's wedding. That was... interesting. Got home from that on Sunday.

Monday, went to work.

Tuesday, flew to the US headquarters for my company, for a meeting today. Just walked back in the door.

I have been home a grand total of about 48 hours in the past seven days. That is awesome.

2007-06-12T22:10:00.001-04:00

Motherfuckshitting christ WHY is there a fucking SKUNK outside my WINDOW

gg french nm

2007-06-11T19:04:00.001-04:00

Stupid shit I said this weekend:

1. "See? This is why you should beat me more often! Then I won't be as sensitive."
2. "You know, I bought more clothespins. They're over there on the top shelf."

fuck it, i'm listening to muse

2007-06-07T19:19:00.002-04:00

Jay was on a business trip this week, and is supposed to get home tonight. I've missed him, a lot. He doesn't live with me, so he's normally not here during the week anyway, but there's something different about him being a few towns over and not here and being in an entirely different state and not being here. It feels different, and I've slept for shit all week.

He was supposed to get in at the airport around 8 tonight, and was then going to come over. I kind of feel bad for whining and sniveling badly enough that he was going to come over after a day in airports and on planes, but not badly enough to tell him to just stay home and go straight to sleep.

Clearly, he is not getting in at 8 - instead, it's going to be closer to 11:30 tonight, which means that he wouldn't get here until 1 at the earliest, which is too late for him. So no Jay tonight, and I am sad. Life's just a little bit better when he's nearby - although, truly, it will at least be nice to have him in the same state again.

It doesn't really help the fact, though, that I have been beyond unsettled the past, oh, week or so. I'm having the devil of a time figuring it out, too. I shouldn't be too surprised though; this happens once in a while anyway. There's no reason for me to be upset or sad or anything, and I just am. Work is good, the house is good, life is good, and it's like I'm uncomfortable with success or something because I want to crawl out of my own skin.

I just want... something else, I suppose. And really, that's a neat explanation for why I desperately wanted to call Joseph last night; he's most certainly something else. A bad idea, to be sure, but feeling like this makes me want to do something dramatic and monumental. It's just that when I shoot for those things, it usually winds up being monumentally horrible. And doing, oh, just about anything with Joseph with perfectly fit that bill.

Tempting enough that at 2 in the morning I was still awake and thinking about doing it, though, which, yeah, that was really unspeakably awesome, okay? It's not like I've slept well all week, and then to be up past 2 in the am with strained effort to keep my hands still and under my head... well, I can think of more fun things.

The best part? I thought I had totally shaken him off, for good, finally. Oh, but no no no. He's ba-ack. Bastard. Clearly the lesson I'm supposed to learn here isn't nearly learned enough.

fuck

2007-06-06T22:58:00.001-04:00

I really, really want to call Joseph right now. I don't even have anything to say. But I want to call him. And it would be a bad, bad plan.

Tee-hee!

2007-06-06T18:17:00.001-04:00

Maybe this just makes me a dork, but I am entirely too gigglingly pleased at the fact that I am taking a business trip in two weeks.

Now, when I travel on my own, I am definitely a shoestring type of person. I find the cheapest way to get there, I rent a bike or walk or take public transport to get around, I stay in hostels, I cook my own meals... like, we are trying to avoid spending money, so that we can stay longer, you know? I spent a week in Canada, going to two cities, and spent less than $500. US.

Now, this work trip. I am flying to my company's headquarters the night before a meeting, going to a meeting all day, and flying back that night. I will be staying in an upscale hotel, I will have cars to pick me up from the airports and take me to the hotel and to my house and to the headquarters, my meals will be paid for, etc. I am a little shocked and awed at the amount of money that the company is spending to fly me there for a single day.

It's AWESOME.

(blah blah blah, corporate excesses, blah blah blah.)

Also, I hope that this kind of travel never becomes so routine and ordinary that I start thinking it's my due, or something. I like being entertained by the fact that I'm staying in a $200/night hotel room with a king-size bed, and that it's 100% okay with my company. It kind of makes me feel like a six-year-old trying on Mom's clothes. Look at me! I'm a grown-up! (No, no I am most definitely not).

On the nature of deals

2007-06-03T22:24:00.002-04:00

I've been addicted to PostSecret for some time now; even bought a couple of the books. It's something between voyeurism and bonding with the rest of the human race.

There's a secret posted this week, and a reply - since they are only posted for one week, for posterity's sake, I'll record the text of both here, but if you see this before June 10th, I encourage you to head over to PostSecret and check them out:

Secret: I don't like BJ's. I hate how they assume all guys want one. Or even prefer them.

The text is pasted on an x-ray image of a girl with braces giving a guy a blowjob.

Email: Good to know, because I'm tired of giving them.

At first it was just the email that made me irritated and sad, and then once I sat and thought about it for a while, the postcard made me sad too.

The email got to me for a couple of reasons, mostly because the initial reading made the person come off as a selfish bint who was tired of doing something for someone else's pleasure. Yup, most guys I've met like blowjobs; Jay being one of them. But he likes them, and I KNOW that he likes them, so because of that, I like giving them to him (also, I would like giving them to him even if he didn't like them so much, because I <3 penis, but that's an entirely other story). Granted, I don't give him a blowjob every night or anything like that, but the Man's penis is in my mouth on a regular basis, okay? And there are times when I'm not particularly interested in giving a blowjob, but unless I have a serious objection, I will, for at least a little while, because I know it gives him a lot of pleasure. This was even before we decided that he got to be in charge. I just like doing nice things for people I happen to like, okay?It just really irritated me because there are people out there who are missing the entire point of sex. It becomes not about pleasures, but about duty. It becomes this negative thing to be avoided, and they are seriously missing out.Secondly, the email made me sad because I know there are guys out there who are just as selfish and demand blowjobs all the time. I am not talking about within a D/s context (and even then, I would say that demanding blowjobs all the time, while well within the rights of a Master, would be kind of assholish, but maybe that's just me), I am talking the guy who shoves a girl into his groin on every date, and doesn't do anything for her. Even for someone like me, who likes giving blowjobs, that would get real old, real quick. So I can understand being sick of giving blowjobs, and that is sad, that something sexual has become so not-pleasurable.The postcard makes me sad too because I think I would cry if I were with a partner who didn't take into account my preferences when it came to sex (okay, that's a lie; I'd dump they ass). And because there's a whole lot of young women out there who think that all guys want is blowjobs. And this person is either not communicating what they want, or when they do, their partner doesn't believe them because there have been a whole bunch of other guys who have persuaded her of the opposite (and she's not smart enough to realize that everyone is different and adjust for that).It's just... well, everyone is missing the point of the deal. You're both supposed to get pleasure. Not just one person. And it's supposed to be reciprocal and mutual. You should take into account what the other person likes, what you like, and compromise if necessary. And it's supposed to be enjoyable, goddammit, not some onerous chore that you have to get through so that you can get other benefits from the relationship.

Even BDSM. Nobody does that because they don't like it, I think. And there are certainly things that aren't fun, per se, and perhaps even a bit of a chore. But, it's negotiated, and I'd argue that everyone involved gets pleasure out of it.

People are just really fucked up when it comes to sex sometimes (and hey, even I have some of my own hang-ups), and it really gets to me.

What the hell?

2007-05-30T19:02:00.001-04:00

That's funny - I don't remember locking this blog down...

sigh

2007-05-17T18:37:00.001-04:00

There are few things in life more perfect than a piping hot panini, fresh off the press, containing ripe plum tomatoes, fresh basil off my windowsill, and fresh mozzarella.

sad day

2007-05-14T19:47:00.001-04:00

We have not eaten anything in common, but both Rabbit and I have had stomachaches all day. I also had the bonus of cramps so bad that I actually got out of bed early. Why I have cramps the week after my period is anyone's guess.

Also, the drain in my shower is backed up with disgustingness (seriously, there is what looks like honest-to-god dirt in there), which is not my fault, since we didn't clog the plumbing in the first place, and my landlord has not fixed it yet. This means I did not get a shower this morning.

/whining

How's YOUR Monday?

Made of these

2007-05-07T19:05:00.001-04:00

Okay so the entire point of my posting was not to talk about food, but instead to talk about the fact that somehow this weekend Jay finally Figured It Out.

It gets capitals because it's important.

From Thursday evening til today, he managed to strike the perfect balance between Dom and NotDom. See, I don't like it to be Dom all the time. I, I, cannot handle a 24/7 relationship, because I either start laughing because I lose what for me is a required suspension of disbelief, or I get really uppity and bitchy that I have no control. I'm just a wee bit of a control freak about some times. Just a little. It's really only mild OCD.

But... I like a healthy dose of being NOT in charge on a regular basis. I am such a picky, high-maintenance bitch sometimes. Over this weekend, I got the requisite healthy dose, but not an overwhelming or smothering one. He wasn't Dom-y all the time, but he was enough of the time that I was kept on my toes and always reminded that, oh, right, I am not always in charge. Oh, right, and I kind of like that.

Some of it was subtle, like not letting me get away with being a smart-ass nearly as much as usual at dinner on Friday night - giving me That Look, you know. Some of it was much more overt, like deciding on Thursday that he was going to throw me on the bed and have His way with me about ten seconds after he walked in the door. Some of it was downright blatant, like how he woke me up on Sunday night since He had decided He was going to cause Pain in His Tits, and that I was going to take it, and I was not going to get sex out of the deal. And it was all really, ridiculously hot, and I spent a good portion of today unspeakably distracted.

It's still early, but since the hotness involved me not getting much sleep last night, I think I'm going to water my plants, clean up the remnants of my dinner, and curl up in bed and dream sweet, torturous dreams. Mother of god, I am one grateful slut right now.

Nosh

2007-05-07T18:58:00.001-04:00

It was Jay's birthday this weekend, and he'd decided that he just wanted to have some friends over to my place and relax there. His birthday falls on Cinco de Mayo, so we usually drink Coronas.

Not to be outdone this year, I decided to make homemade salsa, because I like to show off and I thought it would be appropriately themed. It doesn't hurt that salsa is one of the few things that Jay will eat on the spicy side, and I like encouraging spice. Mmm, spicy food.

Seriously, if I'd known that salsa was as stupid easy to make as it is, I would have made salsa a long damn time ago. I think it took me all of ten minutes to make the fucking salsa. Oh, no, I lied, it took at least fifteen, since that's how long the jalapenos were roasting.

Also made were a delicious fruit salsa with homemade cinnamon-sugar tortilla chips. That was for me. Because I like fruit. And salsa.

As we were grocery shopping on Friday, I was in the world's pissiest mood, since I hadn't eaten all day. But, in the middle of the grocery store, I realized that perhaps a cake would be in order, so I asked Jay if he wanted one.

"I don't know..."

"I will make or buy whatever you want."

"It should involve chocolate."

I figured that I had to have a chocolate cake recipe at home, so away we went. Except that in all of my damn recipes, I do not have a basic chocolate cake recipe. Not one. Three versions of Black Forest cake, though.

The day was not lost, however, as I had a recipe for chocolate peanut butter cake, which neatly combined two of Jay's favorite things and thankfully turned out delicious and only used ingredients I already had in my house. So I baked a cake. And I am sitting here licking the frosting off of the sides of the pan, because holy crap is it good.

I did not mean for this post to become entirely about food, so I will end with saying that a good time was had by all, and that we ate a lot of salsa.

wedding idiocy; move on

2007-04-23T21:02:00.001-04:00

So in the next year and a half, Jay and I will be going to at least three weddings. The first is my cousin, coming up in June; next is friends of ours in September, and finally, we have my best friend Elizabeth, getting married probably in September of '08, which is possibly the most exciting because I get to be the maid of honor.

I am totally girling out here. Elizabeth came over for dinner on Saturday night, and said that she wasn't sure if it was okay to bring bridal magazines, and I was all like "Dude and WHY WOULDN'T IT BE because we could spend about SIX HOURS going through them and it would be FUN."

It also means politicking time. Jay does not understand why I need a dress for my cousin's wedding ("You have skirts, right?"), why we need to buy them a gift that's between $50 and $100, and why it was important for my name to be on the shower gift my mom bought. I also know that by saying these things, I will get people reading this who think I am nuts to think that these things matter, but oh, they do. You see, I will get married some day, and I want these people to think "Oh, she bought us something nice, we should get her something nice." Sure, they're family or close friends, but for most of them, that thought is there, even if not consciously. Maybe that makes me - or my family, whatever - bad people. Maybe it just makes us realistic. The trick is not to buy something so ostentatious that they feel bad or like you're flaunting your money, but to buy something where they go "Oh that's so nice!"

As for the dress thing, it's just one of those unspoken rules. Sure, I'm a first cousin, so that means I don't have to wear a gown, but I do have to wear a nice dress, probably cocktail length. A skirt and blouse just aren't going to cut it. Thinking back on it, I probably should have worn a dress when we went to Jay's cousin's wedding last September (what the fuck is with the September weddings, people), but since I wasn't related, I could get away with a skirt and blouse. I felt under-dressed though, but that could just be because everyone else did a variation on black, it felt like, and I was in a very nice brown ensemble.

And shoes! I get to buy shoes!

Jay is not going to be happy when I make him buy a suit.

And finally, one other note. You know you're an adult when you're looking through the JCPenney sale catalog that came in the mail, see something, say "Oh, I like that", and mean "That would be really good to wear to work. Oh and look, it's not that expensive either".

Being an adult kind of sucks.

I said no, no, no

2007-04-22T20:26:00.001-04:00

It all started when Jay decided that he was interested in breaking out the Houdini. The plan was that he would wear it starting Wednesday morning, when he left my place, and it would stay on until Thursday night, when he got back.

During the day Thursday, I naturally made mention that perhaps it wouldn't be coming off Thursday, and instead would stay off the entire weekend. He wasn't sure what to make of that - it was one of those "I would hate and love that at the same time" things.

Me being me, it came off Thursday night, but that didn't mean that he was allowed to touch the penis, oh no. There was no penis touching allowed. At first he was grateful to just not be wearing the Houdini anymore, but I don't know that "grateful" really accurately sums up the rest of the night.

One of the side benefits of my working in an office now is that my nails have a chance to get really, really long, and I put them to very good use. It started with using two of my nails to pinch his nipples, but I decided they would work just as well, oh, everywhere else on his body. There was considerable squirming of the "I hate you don't stop" type.

I also broke out the crop and beat his ass for a while. That is intensely satisfying, since he can not only take a lot of pain, but his ass really does turn a nice rosy color really quickly.

And through it all, through it all, there was no touching of the penis. It eventually got to the point where he was informing me "Oh, so that's what blue balls feel like", which naturally, just added to my glee. I'm sure it wasn't so much fun for him, but I was certainly enjoying myself.

That's the thing. When I'm in charge, I am gleeful. He enjoys pain, and I enjoy inflicting it upon him, grinning like a deranged pixy the entire time. I took some time and came up with new ways to inflict pain, and it was great! Fingernails are truly, truly awesome - a stance which I previously have not held.

The only problem with any sort of denial play is that I don't usually last too long - neither of us does, really. Eventually we give in and fuck each other stupid, which we proceeded to do in this case. It wasn't for at least an hour and a half after we'd started though, so I was proud of myself for holding out that long.

And we were very, very stupid afterwards. Which makes it all the nicer to (eventually; it usually takes me a while to move) snuggle up together and fall asleep in each other's arms.

No, I've never done it before.

2007-04-20T16:49:00.001-04:00

Dude! Giving guys blue balls is awesome.

never be the same again

2007-04-11T22:38:00.001-04:00

SO. Presentation is done. All that's left is to write up a self-evaluation, which will take me about ten minutes to do when I do it, because it's 2 pages or less of complete and utter bullshit.

So, I'm relaxing with a glass of wine and some Sevendust on iTunes, and wicked pleased with myself because the presentation was A-mazing.

I am in fact sitting down!

We got the crop on a Thursday, ever-so-conveniently. Must love the Stockroom. Jay came over that evening, as he usually does, and I surprised him with a long, skinny box on the bed. He knew I'd ordered it - he helped pick it out - but I hadn't told him it was there.

He was, at least, generous enough to let me have dinner.

The week before, I had completely lost it when he had my wrists tied, and I was laying on my back, and he took the flogger to my, of course, bound breasts. I am talking lost, my shit. Rope floggers, right, not exactly the most precise of instruments, and while it doesn't hurt, per se, it was entirely too close to my face to avoid panic. We are talking like, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling back in my head (which you couldn't see because they were screwed shut, but you know) panic. That stopped things right quick, and nothing else really happened.

Jay, though, was disappointed. Apparently he likes beating me or something? I don't know. Anyway, I am pleased to report that the crop is much, much more precise. Exceedingly precise, if you must know. For people like me ("not the face! not the face!") this is an important detail.

Also, I love it, from both ends (which I will get to). It is long and skinny and black and it smells good and it is not nearly as stingy as I was fearing. It's definitely more stingy than, say, a flogger. And I don't really like stingy (canes make me a sad panda). But it's not entirely stingy - it's a good balance of sting and thud, which makes it entirely enjoyable. He decided that beating my His tits was the way to start the night, and I blissed the hell out. It felt gooooooooooood. And since it's much easier to control, I could close my eyes and be assured that the face would not in fact be involved.

Not content with the tits, Jay flipped me over and went for the ass. Oh my god, I was so relaxed and out of it that I drooled on the pillow and could not differentiate one hit from another. I slightly noticed when he used his wrist to thwack me quickly with it - crops are bouncy! - and could tell that was different from when he used more of his arm to really smack me - crops also don't require much effort to get much smack behind them - but it was all fucking fantastic. It's usually pretty difficult for me to get in that kind of blissed space, even in bondage, because my brain just likes thinking waaay too much, but wow was I far into it at that point. Jay likes to say that I get fucked stupid - which I do; sex makes me a flipping idiot - but I was long dumb before things got there.

As for the other end, I got to try it out on Jay the very next night, and holy butt is it FUN. You can grip it really tightly and make your arm shake from the strain and the business end just gleefully bounces up and down on your chosen surface, and you can whale away, and you can lightly tap, and you can caress - say, gently rub it over someone's balls? - and it goes exactly where you want it. I kind of want to walk around my house and hit things with it, just for the satisfaction of having something do exactly what I want, but I don't think it'd go over well with the roommates.

Unfortunately, after that weekend, the project really started eating up my time, so we have not used it since then - sad day, right? But now that it's done, and I suddenly have a lot more free time, I fully intend to do what I can to make sure it's used this weekend. Jay is back on the Dom kick again - if the way I was woken up Sunday night is any indication - so I don't think it'll be too hard.

wrung me out

2007-04-10T22:22:00.001-04:00

I swear to god, I have not died, not forgotten, about this, etc. and so on. I've been tied up with a major project for grad school - on the order of, "it's your entire grade for the semester", so it's a wee bit time-consuming.

BUT. I am done with it after Wednesday. Which means I am going to let myself sit down and tell y'all all about the crop that I bought (because clearly we tried it out just about the exact minute it showed up on my doorstep).

Now to go finish polishing up my presentation for tomorrow and get some damned sleep.

oh shi-

2007-03-20T21:01:00.001-04:00

Oh, my god, I bought a crop.

god don't make the laws

2007-03-16T15:39:00.001-04:00

I told Jay my little bit of glee that it was not the blowjob that made my throat sore. It was intended as a good-natured bit of humor about cock size, because really, I'm about 10 and things like that still entertain me.

His response? A look.

The look in question is the one that says "Bitch, you're crazy, and I'm not going to respond to the crazy currently coming out of your mouth, in the hopes that it will stop." That look.

I hate him.

One thing for the plus column though - you ever do something, and then you go, damn, that was so hot, and I have no idea why?

Yeah, well, we had one of those moments a while later. He's still in that Dom-my mood, so he was messing around with me, and he ends up putting his fingers in my mouth, and I start sucking them, because really, what the hell else was I supposed to do? And it was HOT and AMAZING and sweet jesus did it get better from there. *fans self* It was the kind of orgasm where your body and mind disconnect and you feel like you're floating about two feet up. That kind.

Damn but I could really get to love this Dom streak.

I am also considering getting myself naked and waiting for him in bed. Because it's snowing outside and I'm home from work early, and I think I've convinced him to leave early, and what better way to spend an early evening than in bed?

Bitchin'

2007-03-15T17:46:00.001-04:00

I am SO stoked that my sore throat is NOT from the deep-throating on Sunday.

Of course, this means it's because I'm sick, and that sucks.

But NOT from the deep-throating. That's awesome.

Not least because it'll be a small deflation of the Man's ego :)

Who says you can't go home?

2007-03-13T20:34:00.001-04:00

In other news, I am an uncultured git, as I have never been to the opera.

But I feel awesome because my sister went, said she saw something in German, and I guessed Die Fledermaus and I was right.

So I was reading over on kaya's blog about TPE relationships and what does and does not constitute one and meltdowns, etc. and so on. (PS, I feel like I'm joining a club. "Hey look! I'm blogging about kaya's blog!" That club.) Someone anonymously (don't they always?) made a comment that said, more or less, that, well, you can always just pick up and walk out, so clearly, your relationship is a sham and there is no such thing as TPE.

I might be exaggerating the sham part, but the packing up and leaving part was in there. For about three seconds I sat there and looked at it, bugged, until I figured out that, well, no wonder it bugs me, 'cause it ain't true.

Now, bear in mind, I'm talking about consensual relationships, okay? No one is being abused or otherwise mistreated. And the other caveat I have is that I am not just talking about physically leaving. That's easy to do.

But it is not always an option to leave a relationship, and I know this, because I damn well tried. Twice (I'm stubborn). I lived without him, I did other things, I saw other people, and told myself over and over that I wasn't going back and it sucked. ass. The goal was definitely for it to be more like sucking balls, and I miserably failed.

So this time around, walking out and leaving the relationship is not an option. And rather than feeling trapped or caged in, I feel... well, confident. I have decreed that this relationship is going to work, therefore, it will, whether it likes it or not. For those of you who have not yet run across my will in cases like this, well... you know, I can't even come up with a good metaphor, so you are stuck just taking me at face value. Leaving isn't an option, so the only one left is making it work.

Clearly, that depends on the people in the relationship. If it weren't Jay, hell, I might very well be able to leave. In fact, I've done THAT before, too. It also rests on the assumption that neither He nor I will magically overnight radically change our personalities. But even if he suddenly went off the deep end (because clearly, it could never happen to me, as the less sane one in the relationship), I still couldn't leave. Just wouldn't work. Leaving would only make the situation worse - for the both of us.

So yup, you can always physically walk out. That doesn't make it leaving, because it's a lot more than your body involved in the leaving.

I don't remember signing up for this

2007-03-11T21:00:00.001-04:00

If you'd asked me, even recently, as to how I would describe myself, you'd probably be able to work the term "thrill-seeker" out of me. I would then follow it with a lot of qualifications, but it's there.

I loves me a good roller-coaster ride. I like to drive fast, feel the wind in my hair. A part of me wants to try sky-diving and bungee-jumping. I like to climb trees and go exploring, see what's out there. I like to ski fast (but not in trees, oh god, not in the trees). I would totally do most of the physical stunts on Fear Factor, like walking between two speeding semis and crashing cars and stuff.

But there's a limit to my thrills. I have to be assured of a reasonable amount of safety, whether guaranteed by myself or others. Roller-coasters, are safe. Trees and rocks and hiking and crap, are safe. Skiing, is safe. Stuff on Fear Factor, is safe. In all cases, either I am in control - and have enough faith in my abilities for that control to mean something - or there are considerable regulations and safety precautions and professionals around that even though I myself can't guarantee safety, they can come pretty darned close to it.

What I would not say, is that I like fear. I don't even particularly like horror movies - partly because half of them don't scare me, and partly because half of them do. Actually, I don't like movies much at all. Either I get too emotionally involved and completely overwrought, or I couldn't give two shits about what's going on and thus the experience isn't enjoyable, either. I hate being spooked by people. I hate driving sometimes, because for some reason my car is invisible to other people and there are days when I really don't understand how I didn't get t-boned or something on my way home. Fire and I are not friends, regardless of whether it's contained or not. If there were ever someone in my house that didn't belong, I like to think I'd be one tough bitch, but I'd probably lose my shit in one fear-stained instant. Oh, and the gross Fear Factor stuff, or anything that involves me being buried in slime or bugs or snakes or eating disgusting things? Thumbs way, way down.

But by the same token, I don't necessarily feel fear where other people do. I don't get scared walking alone at night. I didn't get scared waiting for buses after dark in the less-than-savory neighborhood I used to have to go through to get to and from work. I don't freak out when there's odd noises in my house (it's old, I have landlords upstairs, and I'm half-convinced there's a resident ghost, as well). Storms excite me (except for tornados, fuck that). The oceans (and other large bodies of water) are fucking awesome. Being lost is just an excuse to wander around until you find something. And I have been, I have been, to Cabrini Green (and a bunch of other unsavory big-city neighborhoods - my father has singular views on important places to take the kids; a story for another time). And I love the scarier parts of "ropes courses" - I will go all the way up on the highest slingshot you can find, oh yes I will, and I will hang upside down while riding it.

So I wouldn't say that I'm a fan of fear. But apparently, I've signed up for regular, sometimes extremely healthy doses of it. Jay really, really likes finding all of those places in me where I try to warn people off, and am somewhat irrational. Hands on my neck. Things on my face. Getting anywhere near doing anything to my ass other than smacking it. Various implements of torture. Informing me that yes, I have to be the one to throw another log on the fire. Taking all control away from me. Shit like that. I'm not living my life in fear, I'm not being abused, blah blah blah all that reassuring crap. Because it's all true. But he really, really likes pushing the limits.

And it's not quite the same as either a thrill or a fear. It's a kind of fucked-up chimera of the two. I'm feeling fear, but not "I am going to DIE, fuck me" fear. Not the kind of fear that comes from a truly scary situation. But it's not a thrill either, because I'm generally not willingly experiencing it, and I certainly don't have a huge grin on my face.

But it is exciting - I can't deny that, even if I try - if only because my pussy - oh, I'm sorry, HIS pussy (we're apparently on a Dom-ly kick) - gives me away. And I think the reason that it is exciting is that there's that level of trust underneath that, even though I know he's trying to provoke fear, he's not really going to go too far, so I can be assured that needles and flaming things will not actually be touching me at any point. I really can't see myself signing up for that, and he knows that if he tries, the fact that he is in charge is completely irrelevant because I will kill him - or at the very least, maim. Severely. I can't really be responsible for when my limits are completely broken, now can I?

But like I said, I don't remember signing up for this either. "But french!" you say. "You're not in a TPE! You're a strong, independent woman! You can tell him to stop!"

Well sure, I CAN, but two things: 1, he'd probably ignore me, overall, and B, it kind of defeats the purpose of any sort of power exchanges if I get to make all the rules. Me making the rules is reserved for when we are not in the bedroom, and for on those occasions that we switch. And even the first, it's not 100% - like I said, we're apparently on a Dom-ly kick. This is not the boy I met nearly 8 years ago, who would do whatever ~~people~~ I told him to. He has far too many definite opinions and stubborn streaks (he's been hanging around me too long :D). So while he might stop in the moment if I made clear to him that he went too far in pushing a limit, that's still a might - he reserves some judgment on when he's done - and he wouldn't stop pushing limits, he'd just find a different one for a while.

And the whole point of it is, I don't want to make all the rules. I want him to make some, goddammit. So apparently, I kind of did sign myself up for this. But I didn't sign up for gleefully liking it, ha ha.

Now why is that a bit of a hollow laugh? Oh right, because at the end of the day, if I really didn't like what was going on, it would end. Right.

Man, I hate me sometimes.

Adult life sucks it

2007-03-10T14:30:00.001-05:00

It's kind of hard to do anything fun when your night goes like this:

I cut out of work at 3:45, 'cause hell, it was a Friday and I'd put in plenty of extra hours over the past two weeks. It wasn't like anything further was going to get done.

I stopped at the grocery store for garlic bread and some other supplies, so I could make tortellini for dinner. I miss making dinner every night. I haven't done that since Vinnie lived with me, and I feel compelled to get back into the habit. I picked up various and sundry other things, then had an awesome experience trying to convince the cashier and bagger that, yes, I really did want only paper bags.

Clearly, that's not a normal request around these parts anymore. I guess that's what I get for not going to the nutty-crunchy grocery store(s).

I re-bagged everything as I put it into my trunk. Funnily enough, paper bags don't handle it well when you randomly throw shit into them.

I sang random snippets of opera as I cooked dinner and told "stupid work" stories to Jay, and we gobbled up tortellini like kids eating Halloween candy before they get home and Mom puts it away. After, we did some of the dishes all together-like, and decided to make our second attempt in a row to retreat into my room with my laptop to look up ways that we could creatively use the 1x4s I had from my old bed.

9:30 at night, we have both laptops on the bed with us, and I shut the lid of mine, say "it goes away now" and promptly curl up and fall asleep. With my contacts still in, with my clothes on, without having looked at anything besides my email and some other random non-kinky stuff.

8:00 this morning, I am wide awake. I take my contacts out, I eat some yogurt for breakfast, I put on pj's, and crawl into bed to read until Jay wakes up at 11. Jay says that he tried to wake me up a few times, if only to take out my contacts. Clearly, I wasn't having it.

I am so, so glad this "going in at 7 and working until 5" shit is done. Maybe now I will be able to stay up later than 10-year-olds.

Okay one last thing

2007-02-28T22:20:00.001-05:00

God bless it, I still haven't gotten my birthday spanking!

Yarn

2007-02-28T22:17:00.001-05:00

It's my 150th post, and I've decided that I'm boring. I've been doing entirely too much whining on here lately, and really, I don't have that much to whine about. I just like whining.

I also happen to love the 100% superfine alpaca yarn that I bought to make myself a gorgeous berry red sweater. It is so soft that I almost want to curl up and sleep in it. It also has some lovely natural slubs in it, so it's extremely interesting.

Unlike me, who is extremely tired. To bed it is!

Ugh.

2007-02-27T16:21:00.001-05:00

So my anxiety has been through the roof lately, and I don't know why. It's so bad that I woke myself up - woke myself up - in the middle of the night by dreaming about an inconsequential thing from work, that for some reason I was losing my shit about.

Not okay with that.

It didn't help that on Sunday, my car didn't start. Now, I'd used the car on Sunday morning, to haul my ass and the asses of four other people, Jay included, around. Sunday night, I get nothing from the car. I turn the key, and I get a hum - I don't even get a click from the starter. We hurried over to Jay's car and used that to ferry ourselves around, but when I got back on Sunday night, I tried to get my car to work and I couldn't, and, well, that was apparently it. And after I'd fixed something else that was wrong on it! I had fixed the issue with my wipers myself, and then two days later it decides it's being bitchy again.

Owning a car fucking sucks, yo.

Jay and I had been trying to have sex all weekend, although looking back on it, I think most of my desire for sex was that I felt obligated to. We hadn't for a while, you know? So I felt like we needed to. But it wasn't working - he'd move too fast, or I'd get distracted, or I'd tell him to back off and he would completely stop and we'd go to sleep. So we tried again Sunday night, and me being me, my brain was waaaaay too busy flipping out about my car and about my phone and about work and about a million and one other things, and I couldn't concentrate enough to shut it up. I couldn't even muster up the concentration to do some of the muscle relaxation exercises I sometimes do. Not even some of the visualizations I learned as a therapizing person were helping me out.

I was anxious and moody and about ready to goddamn cry, so I tell Jay that I can't concentrate or pay attention - because through all this, the man is trying to seduce me for the purpose of having sex. Clearly, it was not working. He says to me "Do you need some help with remembering what you need to pay attention to right now?" and I fucking wail "I don't KNOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" and burst into tears, as he looks confused and puts the collar back in the drawer.

That is correct, I burst. Into tears. There was a small part of me, buried deep inside, that was saying "Yo, what the fuck bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you. Stop this shit right now," but that didn't actually solve the issue, which was that I was watering Jay's chest quite prolifically.

So I cried on his chest for a while and went to sleep.

Monday, he picks me up from work, since Monday morning I have to get my car goddamn towed out of my driveway because it won't start and I have exhausted my bag of tricks for getting it to do so. I, am the goddamn weepiest bitch EVER while I'm sitting on the couch with him once we got back to my place. Like what the fuck, okay? I don't cry. I'm not even sure why I'm crying at this point, because it's not like I have anything to really cry about, but I, oh yes, am crying. For whatever reason, everything is just wrong, and I am not feeling like I can fix it.

He tells me that no, I'm not allowed to have french fries again, as I've been eating them way too much lately. He also says that yes, I do have to come with him to the gas station so he can buy milk. I, in an attempt to be funny, remark that clearly he doesn't trust me alone in the house, to which he replies, "You know, that's probably not a bad idea, 'cause you are NUTS, bitch," which makes me laugh in shock and disbelief, and hit him for being impudent, hurting my flipping thumb on his watch in the process (that oughta learn me).

I am, however, allowed ice cream after dinner, while we watch reruns of CSI, so he feeds me some ice cream and we cuddle and he goes home. And I am sad, and tired, and looking entirely too woebegone for someone of my stature, so I crawl myself into bed and try to get some sleep.

I am still a sad, tired panda today - but at least I'm not fucking crying. I hate that shit.

The day that she left me

2007-02-14T14:31:00.001-05:00

I haven't had much sex lately, much less anything kinky, so it's not really all that surprising to me that I wake up dreaming about canes and such. I don't even like canes, I just really want a good beating.

For the most part, Jay and I have been out of town on the weekends, with other people around, so it's not like we can just get kinky. Or do anything, really. I tend to be on my very best, non-kinky behavior around other people, so it really limits the possibilities.

The other night, though I went to bed with a scarf tied around my head, to keep my hair back, as it was bugging me. The scarf fell off, as it usually does, which interested Jay, god alone knows why. He started playing with it, and eventually laid it over my eyes.

My first, immediate, gut reaction was to freak. the fuck. out. I absolutely abhor things on my face or head. I am that person you see outside with nothing more than ear muffs on my head when the wind chill is 20 below. There are two things I can deal with: earmuffs or ear bands, and ski goggles, and the latter only when it is bitterly cold and it's the only way to keep my face warm.

I took a deep breath and didn't freak out, and he eventually took it off, only to put it back on again. I could feel a rising sense of panic, but I thought that I was in control of it, that I would be okay. And for a while, I almost was. I really wasn't though. When he tried to fuck me, it hurt - a bad hurt. My body was clearly saying "Nope, not okay", even as my mind desperately tried to assert the opposite.

Cannot stand things on my face. Pissed off because I have not been put in my place at all recently, and it's way too easy to sit down. Naturally, my mini-meltdown put a halt to any and all activities, so I got to wake up this morning to absolutely brutally brilliant images of being cuffed, gagged, and caned *fans self*.

I am hoping for birthday spankings. Having a social life sucks.

sub french

Made of what again?

Well that's nice

Accomplishments

Number 19 - someone who pesters your mind - good or bad

On echochambers

Oh, so the worst thing you will read all day.

Psychosomatic

Vacations, etc.

Reasons why I can't believe anyone in their right mind considers me an adult

Number 7 - Your ex-

Well fuck me.

Well then!

Oh god I hope not

Number 1 - Your best friend

Woo equality!

Thirty letters

See also: On the Notion of Consent and Personal Responsibility

No fucking thank you

*rolleyes*

Defintitely maybe.

Explanations

Um.

Being a feminist kinkster

On the notion of consent and personal responsibility

With a capital 'T'

Drunken non-escapades

Using words like grownups

Sometimes I think life is designed as a torment to me

And here you thought you were predictable!

Project plans

Some times you feel like a beating!

Naked time!

If this is what getting older entails, I am NOT INTERESTED.

New year! Sweet lord!

Once again beaten

Blah.

Bitten

Everyone loves mail, part II

Everyone loves mail.

Seriously, what the hell.

On maturity

I'm told the term I'm looking for may be "Saturn Return"

Wait, what?

Oh christ jesus

to put the world to rights

Still don't want to have sex.

Note:

Things that bother me, version 6742

I popped my con cherry

My house looks like a tornado hit it

I cannot wait for this week to be over

give me another round of...

Soporific

Talk about anti-climactic

Brief update

What if I say I'm not like the others?

Why I am angry

fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you

fuck yeah

I get reminded of things from books all the time

seriously

Bitchin'

Two cranky thoughts

fuck shit damn.

I have got to get out more

"When it detects things, it goes 'ding'!"

No, no it is not.

Now all I need is a clothesline

new favorite thing

Where I have been the past week

gg french nm

fuck it, i'm listening to muse

fuck

Tee-hee!

On the nature of deals

What the hell?

*sigh*

sad day

Made of these

rolleyes

sigh