I woke up at 3am and never got back to sleep...so if this is scattered, there's good reason for that. I'm not even going to try to make it make sense.
***I leave for SJW tomorrow. WTF?!? I'm not ready. It's not real to me. I don't have a clear idea anymore of why I'm going or what I hope to get out of the experience. I'm so scared that I'm wasting the time, money, opportunity...
***Eighty-three days left until Baby and I are separated. I'm trying to figure out what needs to be done and floundering. Maybe it will be easier once I can start working on the kids' room? I know I need a dresser and either a twin bed or another crib mattress at least.
***How do you tell a friend hard things that they don't want to hear?
***Birthday wishes...a THOROUGH cleaning of the house, including the carpets, walls, and windows. $300 or so??? It's the only think I can really think of that would last for a little while that I really, truly want. Things like a prenatal massage would be nice for the hour or two, but the relaxation just doesn't last beyond a day. Then it's back to the same-old aches of pregnancy.
***What is it going to take for me to SLEEP??? There's Baby kicking me, there's my relationships, there's my needing to pee a million times if I drink more than 5 oz., there's my general insomnia... I just want everything to go away and let me SLEEP, for pity's sake!
***Where did Boy pick up licking my hair? And this new thing for spitting and drooling is pretty gross, too...
***For the most part, I have the HG under control. Zofran and weekly acupuncture mean that I'm only throwing up occasionally now. That's a good thing! But I find myself angry about it, too...because now I'm like every other pregnant woman and worrying about the weight I'm putting on! It's not FAIR!
***Growing up, my dad promised me it would get easier. I don't think it does. I think it changes before it ever gets easy.
***I've been poking about in "the community" for years...I've met lots of people; lots of names seem familiar to me. But I'm not always sure where/how to place them. Some have made a strong enough impression that I KNOW...but others? *sigh* And then there's the screenname deal... I'm guilty of at least three REGULAR screennames. That doesn't help the tracking capabilities.
***People are being asinine about H1N1...the "swine flu". It's not new, folks. It's been floating around for almost 100 years. There are approximately 6.5 billion people in the world and about 2,500 of them worldwide have gotten this flu bug. Approximately 150 have died. Do the math and get a fricken grip.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Little boxes made of ticky tacky...
No kink...just a vague sense of depressed amusement. The Chicago Tribune ran a story today about the fate of empty "Big Box" stores...the fact that the downturn in the economy can't support the insane consumer indulgences of the last decade or two. Malvina Reynolds' song came to mind instantly.
I think the thing that frustrates me the most is that I have been ahead of the times. I have worked hard all my adult life to create a home and a life that is comfortable. We managed to keep our mortgage and pay our bills when the household income fell under $20,000. We've had roommates for most of our married life. We've furnished the house by way of hand-me-downs and curbsiding. I worked in a downtown Chicago corporate office and wore $8 suits that I found at thrift stores. The endless flow of parties and get-togethers have been possible because of home-cooked meals or potluck invitations.
For years, these habits were sneered at. I was told it was rude to ask guests to supply food, that my curbsiding was gross, occasionally that my suit was "last season's." I was teased about my coupon-clipping and bulk-buying and cloth grocery bags. But that didn't bother me so much, because it was all just idiosyncrasies of Pixie. I was a wild flower in a rose garden. It was cool.
Now? *sigh* Now, it's all the rage.
I feel like my eclectic and unique styles have just been stolen.
And we're all made out of ticky tacky
And we all look just the same.
I think the thing that frustrates me the most is that I have been ahead of the times. I have worked hard all my adult life to create a home and a life that is comfortable. We managed to keep our mortgage and pay our bills when the household income fell under $20,000. We've had roommates for most of our married life. We've furnished the house by way of hand-me-downs and curbsiding. I worked in a downtown Chicago corporate office and wore $8 suits that I found at thrift stores. The endless flow of parties and get-togethers have been possible because of home-cooked meals or potluck invitations.
For years, these habits were sneered at. I was told it was rude to ask guests to supply food, that my curbsiding was gross, occasionally that my suit was "last season's." I was teased about my coupon-clipping and bulk-buying and cloth grocery bags. But that didn't bother me so much, because it was all just idiosyncrasies of Pixie. I was a wild flower in a rose garden. It was cool.
Now? *sigh* Now, it's all the rage.
I feel like my eclectic and unique styles have just been stolen.
And we're all made out of ticky tacky
And we all look just the same.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
DD_ss Discussion: Fear
What are you most afraid of? What brings a dryness to your mouth, makes your palms sweat and your heart pound?
I'm not sure, really. The things that give me nightmares are unreal...uncharted demons from other people's imagination. I try to avoid exposure to such things, but what most consider mildly scary will keep me in fits for nights on end. I can't think of anything in this world that truly get hooks into me in the same way.
In this world? Personal failure...compounded exponentially if there are others' expectations involved. It doesn't matter what the challenge is...I used to fall apart over math quizzes in high school that would result in a self-esteem spiral...if I can't do this quiz, I'll never pass the test, then I'll never pass the class, never finish high school, never go to college, never accomplish anything, surely I should just put an end to it all...because of a 5 question quiz. I'm not quite that fragile anymore, but perceived failure still pushes me into spirals of worthlessness and suicidal thoughts over small or silly things.
Are your worst fears relationship-related or because of what Life occasionally hands you?
I think I'm more susceptible to what Life hands out. Relationships have challenges and can give heartache, but I have too much experience with relationship loss to fear it.
When there is no resolution in sight how do you handle your fear and its accompanying symptoms?
The short answer is I don't handle it. Depending on the speed of things, I try the “fake it til you make it” strategy, pasting a smile on my face and hiding the internal storms until things are really out of control. I've been committed against my will because of this. Antidepressants helped, as does talk therapy.
Are you afraid of mice, of high places, of speed, of thunder or are you most afraid of losing the one you love?
Given these limited concepts, losing loved ones is worse.
Does the idea of financial ruin scare you or does the thought of losing your partner's love scare you more?
Losing my partner's love is much worse than financial ruin.
I'm not sure, really. The things that give me nightmares are unreal...uncharted demons from other people's imagination. I try to avoid exposure to such things, but what most consider mildly scary will keep me in fits for nights on end. I can't think of anything in this world that truly get hooks into me in the same way.
In this world? Personal failure...compounded exponentially if there are others' expectations involved. It doesn't matter what the challenge is...I used to fall apart over math quizzes in high school that would result in a self-esteem spiral...if I can't do this quiz, I'll never pass the test, then I'll never pass the class, never finish high school, never go to college, never accomplish anything, surely I should just put an end to it all...because of a 5 question quiz. I'm not quite that fragile anymore, but perceived failure still pushes me into spirals of worthlessness and suicidal thoughts over small or silly things.
Are your worst fears relationship-related or because of what Life occasionally hands you?
I think I'm more susceptible to what Life hands out. Relationships have challenges and can give heartache, but I have too much experience with relationship loss to fear it.
When there is no resolution in sight how do you handle your fear and its accompanying symptoms?
The short answer is I don't handle it. Depending on the speed of things, I try the “fake it til you make it” strategy, pasting a smile on my face and hiding the internal storms until things are really out of control. I've been committed against my will because of this. Antidepressants helped, as does talk therapy.
Are you afraid of mice, of high places, of speed, of thunder or are you most afraid of losing the one you love?
Given these limited concepts, losing loved ones is worse.
Does the idea of financial ruin scare you or does the thought of losing your partner's love scare you more?
Losing my partner's love is much worse than financial ruin.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Homework: Write about Friday night
Nothing's perfect...but Friday wasn't quite the day I'd hoped it would be. Sir was disappointed about not spending daytime with me, the doctor's appointment was really just a waste of time (we watched a video, for pity's sake!), and despite my nap, I was feeling behind the ball on everything. Because of the shortened time together, Sir decided we'd skip going out for supper (my birthday present to him) in favor of my bringing a homemade pizza over. I got to Sir's house just after 7 pm, and the pizza was still hot. At least that was going right...
I served up dinner and we ate together on the couch. I knew there were “things in store” for me, but I didn't know what, and that made it really hard to relax. I kept wondering if I should ask about sitting on the couch, or what my station was. Sometimes I think that the emotional poly-side conflicts a lot with the D/s-side of the relationship. Perhaps I should ask for clearer communication. I run into trouble with Beloved over this too. How does this work? Am I supposed to be submissive all the time, and if so, how can things remain fun?
When we were done eating, I was asked to wash up the dishes, make up the bed, and fix the cushions on the couch. All three small service tasks that shouldn't have been an issue but added to my anxiety. I tried very hard to keep that to myself...Show some trust and faith, and not demand to know what's coming next. It's a very hard challenge for me.
When I was done with the tasks, Sir instructed me to undress in the bedroom, lay out my toys, and return to him...and to crawl while I once I reached the carpet. Did Sir hear my internal growl at that command? Again, I found myself asking for patience, for endurance, for grace in the moments before I re-entered the scene.
Sir sent me crawling after cuffs, and would have sent me crawling again for a gag if I owned one. Instead he sorted through his collection and brought out a ball gag. I've never liked the look of them, and now I know I'm not particularly fond of them from personal experience... Sir scolded me for caressing his foot when he rested it on my thigh, and scolded me again for retrieving a cuff he dropped. I felt cold and alone and so removed from him. Does it have to be that way? Do Dominants have to steel themselves the way I steel myself for a scene? Do any other submissives?
Then Sir presented me with my own collar...black leather with tiny red embossed hearts on it...I'd known was going to get one, but how does a girl accept such a token? Especially when I'd just been chastised for touching him...??? Sir led me to the bathroom (walking) so he could show it to me in the mirror. He let me reach out for him, kiss him...but it felt...awkward...to be “allowed” to do something so natural to me... He told me to wash the gag and return to him, and he was irritated at my hesitation...I stepped out of the bathroom, onto the carpet...but was I suppose to crawl again? He corrected me (yes, I was), but seemed impatient with my denseness. By the time that I was in position with my hands on the tote, legs spread, I was already flagging in my spirit.
Sir's instruction was simple: Do not lift a hand or a foot.
I imagined myself to be stone...forever bonded with the surface, immovable. Later, he assured me he could have changed that, had he wanted to, had there been time and no restrictions on the physical beating. It angers and frustrates me that I believe him...that I am doomed to “failure” if he so choose that to be the desired path.
He kissed my skin, ran his hands over me, spanked me a few time...paddled me a few times...flogged me a few times. Nothing particularly challenging to me...indeed, I felt he was really just teasing me physically. But his words were destroying me.
I can't quote directly, but he was very pointed about how “nice” girls wouldn't allow themselves to be cuffed and displayed naked for someone other than their husband...”nice” girls wouldn't be such sluts. That I would in fact fuck anyone if told...the carpet cleaner, perhaps?
I was crying and hated myself for not being made of sterner stuff. Was I such a baby? Did Sir think I couldn't take the physical hurt? I wanted to close him out, to harden myself, to give him something to conquer...and already I was a teary-eyed, snotty wimp. His fingers sought out wetness in my pussy and teased more...he emphased his point by telling me to fuck his fingers. Registering the command was not easy, and acting on it was horrible...I hated Sir.
He left, and when he returned, the *swoosh* was all I needed to know. I tried to prepare for the cane, but he simply said, “Remember, your Master said yes.” My world crumbled. Honestly, I only felt one blow land...I was lost in the spiral of worthlessness.
Did Sir know that was all it would take? Was everything so perfectly planned that the three caning blows landed and that was the end? He pulled me into his arms, whispering that it was okay...I wanted to scream at him that of course it was...my body didn't hurt...and yet the only thought I could put real words to was I hadn't moved. Damn it, I didn't fail...Sir told me not to move and I hadn't!
He must have SAID something about going to the bedroom because there was a moment of agony..was I supposed to crawl?!? I didn't know, and let him take my hand and lead me. He cuddled me and reassured me...
When Sir grabbed my hair and told me to choose which plug was going in my ass...I thought we were done! Even now, writing, I grit my teeth... It's not so much that it wasn't over...it's how...thorough?...Sir is. I asked him to take me into the dark...I never imagined he would make me choose, over and over and over, to follow him willingly. I begged for him to, to let it be something done to me...don't make me admit that I asked and in fact want this...You choose...please...gods, don't DO this to me...
So I chose the largest plug, the one he selected last time...the one that *might* impress him just the tiniest bit. I'm still grateful that he is gentle and prepares me...I'm still embarrassed and relieved that I can bury my face in the blankets as he does so...
He finger-fucked me then, hard, soft, drawing me to orgasm, accepting my small climax and held me close. Then it was my turn to undress him, to teased and pleasure and enjoy the sensations I am solely responsible for. We went back and forth for the next several hours, talking, teasing, talking, teasing.
I'm glad I was a part of your birthday, Sir. I hope you enjoyed it.
I served up dinner and we ate together on the couch. I knew there were “things in store” for me, but I didn't know what, and that made it really hard to relax. I kept wondering if I should ask about sitting on the couch, or what my station was. Sometimes I think that the emotional poly-side conflicts a lot with the D/s-side of the relationship. Perhaps I should ask for clearer communication. I run into trouble with Beloved over this too. How does this work? Am I supposed to be submissive all the time, and if so, how can things remain fun?
When we were done eating, I was asked to wash up the dishes, make up the bed, and fix the cushions on the couch. All three small service tasks that shouldn't have been an issue but added to my anxiety. I tried very hard to keep that to myself...Show some trust and faith, and not demand to know what's coming next. It's a very hard challenge for me.
When I was done with the tasks, Sir instructed me to undress in the bedroom, lay out my toys, and return to him...and to crawl while I once I reached the carpet. Did Sir hear my internal growl at that command? Again, I found myself asking for patience, for endurance, for grace in the moments before I re-entered the scene.
Sir sent me crawling after cuffs, and would have sent me crawling again for a gag if I owned one. Instead he sorted through his collection and brought out a ball gag. I've never liked the look of them, and now I know I'm not particularly fond of them from personal experience... Sir scolded me for caressing his foot when he rested it on my thigh, and scolded me again for retrieving a cuff he dropped. I felt cold and alone and so removed from him. Does it have to be that way? Do Dominants have to steel themselves the way I steel myself for a scene? Do any other submissives?
Then Sir presented me with my own collar...black leather with tiny red embossed hearts on it...I'd known was going to get one, but how does a girl accept such a token? Especially when I'd just been chastised for touching him...??? Sir led me to the bathroom (walking) so he could show it to me in the mirror. He let me reach out for him, kiss him...but it felt...awkward...to be “allowed” to do something so natural to me... He told me to wash the gag and return to him, and he was irritated at my hesitation...I stepped out of the bathroom, onto the carpet...but was I suppose to crawl again? He corrected me (yes, I was), but seemed impatient with my denseness. By the time that I was in position with my hands on the tote, legs spread, I was already flagging in my spirit.
Sir's instruction was simple: Do not lift a hand or a foot.
I imagined myself to be stone...forever bonded with the surface, immovable. Later, he assured me he could have changed that, had he wanted to, had there been time and no restrictions on the physical beating. It angers and frustrates me that I believe him...that I am doomed to “failure” if he so choose that to be the desired path.
He kissed my skin, ran his hands over me, spanked me a few time...paddled me a few times...flogged me a few times. Nothing particularly challenging to me...indeed, I felt he was really just teasing me physically. But his words were destroying me.
I can't quote directly, but he was very pointed about how “nice” girls wouldn't allow themselves to be cuffed and displayed naked for someone other than their husband...”nice” girls wouldn't be such sluts. That I would in fact fuck anyone if told...the carpet cleaner, perhaps?
I was crying and hated myself for not being made of sterner stuff. Was I such a baby? Did Sir think I couldn't take the physical hurt? I wanted to close him out, to harden myself, to give him something to conquer...and already I was a teary-eyed, snotty wimp. His fingers sought out wetness in my pussy and teased more...he emphased his point by telling me to fuck his fingers. Registering the command was not easy, and acting on it was horrible...I hated Sir.
He left, and when he returned, the *swoosh* was all I needed to know. I tried to prepare for the cane, but he simply said, “Remember, your Master said yes.” My world crumbled. Honestly, I only felt one blow land...I was lost in the spiral of worthlessness.
Did Sir know that was all it would take? Was everything so perfectly planned that the three caning blows landed and that was the end? He pulled me into his arms, whispering that it was okay...I wanted to scream at him that of course it was...my body didn't hurt...and yet the only thought I could put real words to was I hadn't moved. Damn it, I didn't fail...Sir told me not to move and I hadn't!
He must have SAID something about going to the bedroom because there was a moment of agony..was I supposed to crawl?!? I didn't know, and let him take my hand and lead me. He cuddled me and reassured me...
When Sir grabbed my hair and told me to choose which plug was going in my ass...I thought we were done! Even now, writing, I grit my teeth... It's not so much that it wasn't over...it's how...thorough?...Sir is. I asked him to take me into the dark...I never imagined he would make me choose, over and over and over, to follow him willingly. I begged for him to, to let it be something done to me...don't make me admit that I asked and in fact want this...You choose...please...gods, don't DO this to me...
So I chose the largest plug, the one he selected last time...the one that *might* impress him just the tiniest bit. I'm still grateful that he is gentle and prepares me...I'm still embarrassed and relieved that I can bury my face in the blankets as he does so...
He finger-fucked me then, hard, soft, drawing me to orgasm, accepting my small climax and held me close. Then it was my turn to undress him, to teased and pleasure and enjoy the sensations I am solely responsible for. We went back and forth for the next several hours, talking, teasing, talking, teasing.
I'm glad I was a part of your birthday, Sir. I hope you enjoyed it.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
"How do you see that?!?"
My roommate came into the kitchen to find me in tears, on my hands and knees, scrubbing the wall and baseboards. After talking me down a bit, he pointed out that no one else sees the little spots on the wall that I'm scrubbing at...Not Beloved, not him, not his girl, not anyone who visits the house (or if they do, they never mention it)...
I turn the cloth over and it's nearly black and has rolled fuzzies on it.
"How can you not see that?" I asked.
"How can YOU see that?!?" he retorted. "No one else does."
I know these little things are invisible to just about everyone. I'm fully aware that I'm a little neurotic about such things NORMALLY. It's only gotten worse since the pregnancy...partly because I'm acutely aware of how much I leave undone. I try not to nit-pick the help I'm given, but it's frustrating and hard. Especially now...I'm entering my third trimester of pregnancy. I'm "nesting" and hormonal, and some days it just spirals out of control...leaving me in tears, on my knees, scrubbing baseboards.
Or miniblinds. Or fan blades. Or the spot on the wall behind the couch where Boy drew with crayon months ago and it's been eating at me since I found it.
Maybe for my birthday, a crew can be hired to do a thorough spring cleaning of the whole house. All the window sills, all the cobwebs in the corners, all the dust bunnies under all the beds...
I turn the cloth over and it's nearly black and has rolled fuzzies on it.
"How can you not see that?" I asked.
"How can YOU see that?!?" he retorted. "No one else does."
I know these little things are invisible to just about everyone. I'm fully aware that I'm a little neurotic about such things NORMALLY. It's only gotten worse since the pregnancy...partly because I'm acutely aware of how much I leave undone. I try not to nit-pick the help I'm given, but it's frustrating and hard. Especially now...I'm entering my third trimester of pregnancy. I'm "nesting" and hormonal, and some days it just spirals out of control...leaving me in tears, on my knees, scrubbing baseboards.
Or miniblinds. Or fan blades. Or the spot on the wall behind the couch where Boy drew with crayon months ago and it's been eating at me since I found it.
Maybe for my birthday, a crew can be hired to do a thorough spring cleaning of the whole house. All the window sills, all the cobwebs in the corners, all the dust bunnies under all the beds...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
*biting my tongue*
I'm so angry, but Beloved has asked me to bite my tongue and stay cool. Please don't ask, as I can't even talk about it right now. I think he understands how much of a command that is for me. The only thing I can ask right now is for pure inspiration to submit to his better judgement.
I'm taking some solance in my up-coming vacation. May 1 - May 3, I will be attending the Submissives Journey Weekend retreat. I got to meet Remmy, one of the women who attended last year. She said the location is absolutely breath-taking. I may well take some of the time purely for myself, to meditate and just be quiet. I'm also looking forward to some of the classes...The ones I am looking to participate in include Personal Service, Heart of Hospitality, Finding Wholeness in Submission, Poly Relationships, and Mentorship and Leadership. If by some miracle I get in to the Erotic Massage class (it's decided by drawing), that would rock my world! (heh...a few others, too, if I was any good with what I learn!)
And I get to fly! Beloved decided that he didn't want to "give me up" for the extra two days driving would have taken. My last airplane trip was five years ago.
So...good things are coming. I just have to bite my tongue...
I'm taking some solance in my up-coming vacation. May 1 - May 3, I will be attending the Submissives Journey Weekend retreat. I got to meet Remmy, one of the women who attended last year. She said the location is absolutely breath-taking. I may well take some of the time purely for myself, to meditate and just be quiet. I'm also looking forward to some of the classes...The ones I am looking to participate in include Personal Service, Heart of Hospitality, Finding Wholeness in Submission, Poly Relationships, and Mentorship and Leadership. If by some miracle I get in to the Erotic Massage class (it's decided by drawing), that would rock my world! (heh...a few others, too, if I was any good with what I learn!)
And I get to fly! Beloved decided that he didn't want to "give me up" for the extra two days driving would have taken. My last airplane trip was five years ago.
So...good things are coming. I just have to bite my tongue...
Thursday, April 9, 2009
words
I am once again stuck on words and labels and preconceptions. The source this time is the Windy City MAsT that I'd like to attend tomorrow.
A submissive who is also attending the SJW is going to be there with her Master. I'd love to meet her...to know someone else who was going to the retreat...to be a little more at ease.
But...
"most slaves and submissives still make their owner comfortable by getting them beverages or food and the like."
What the hell. I bulk and bulk HARD at that. I'm not OWNED. Beloved and Sir have both said that something to the effect that there isn't a man alive who could MASTER me. I am a wild, flighty flirty pixie. I serve and submit to please those I love and trust. Everyone else can play at their own risk.
Sir, of course, laughed at me, pointing out that assumptions and labels and those prickly things that I dislike so damn much are a burr under my hide. Seriously, if we could just get away from the WORDS, I think I'd be very happy in this lifestyle...
Perhaps so would Beloved. "I want to find a way to collar you that makes more sense."
*soft sigh* I do, too.
A submissive who is also attending the SJW is going to be there with her Master. I'd love to meet her...to know someone else who was going to the retreat...to be a little more at ease.
But...
"most slaves and submissives still make their owner comfortable by getting them beverages or food and the like."
What the hell. I bulk and bulk HARD at that. I'm not OWNED. Beloved and Sir have both said that something to the effect that there isn't a man alive who could MASTER me. I am a wild, flighty flirty pixie. I serve and submit to please those I love and trust. Everyone else can play at their own risk.
Sir, of course, laughed at me, pointing out that assumptions and labels and those prickly things that I dislike so damn much are a burr under my hide. Seriously, if we could just get away from the WORDS, I think I'd be very happy in this lifestyle...
Perhaps so would Beloved. "I want to find a way to collar you that makes more sense."
*soft sigh* I do, too.
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