A little...*half smile*
Decorating for the holidays, any holiday, is something that I try to do. Try, because I get caught up in life and shamrocks have been up until July, or bits of Halloween are still floating around when I get valentines ready. But I try, and I have a very tolerant husband who helps lots and puts up with my totes of supplies.
Today, I got the outside lights up. Since I had to retire so many strings last year, I decided to go with solar lights. I'll let you know how they work out. I also got these little tiny lighted trees for the front walk.
Tomorrow, I'm going to see about my Santas. Maybe. I'm trying to do this with a plan. On the one hand, I am starting much earlier than I ever have. On the other, I'm "losing" a whole WEEK because Beloved, ShadoNight, and Rain are freaking AWESOME!!!
I am getting a whole SIX DAYS away from home. Sunday-Tuesday, Beloved and I are shacking up at a B&B in Michigan. Our room has a fireplace, a two-person tub, and a table ready and waiting for our board games. Then, I am being whisked off by Shado for three days ALONE of quiet, meditation, and sleep. I'm cheating a little and bringing some sewing projects, but I am looking forward to it. Rain, bless her heart, is taking on the kids all week.
So...we'll see! I'm excited and nervy about "abandoning" everything in the middle of the CRAZY holiday month. It will be a good experience for everyone, I think.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
I'm versatile!
Every once in a while, I get a real surprise. Today, it was discovering that I've been added to the "Versatile Blogger" group. *squeeee* It's so silly, but being "read from afar" and having readers "lurk in the corners" is still pretty awesome in my mind.
So..um...what do I have to do with this award? Life is full of rules and regulations, and the Versatile Blogger Award is no different. So let’s get that out of the way first:
THE RULES
1. Thank the award-giver and link back to them in your post.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass this award along to 15 recently discovered blogs you enjoy reading.
4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award.
Kaya was the one that I was tapped by. Like her, I read and lurk Under His Hand. Occasionally I think I have something to contribute to her thoughts, but mostly I am fascinated with her story.
Seven things...hmmm. In other blogs, people have taken to trying to find seven things that were unknown. That's tough. I generally think I am an open book. Well, maybe you don't know this:
1) Ever since the summer my dad paid me a nickle per weed pulled from the lawn, I've been a little annoyed with grass and lawns. They ain't natural, and while I love to walk on lush, green grass, I am just not up for the work and chemicals it would take. I've talked lots about my solution, though...rip out the grass and put in a native garden!
2) I was scolded in kindergarten for not playing with the baby dolls with the other girls. Or maybe it was just that Sister Kolavan foresaw my future because of my friendships with so many of the boys? *shrug* She also wanted to hold me back because I tied my shoes with two "bunny ears" and held my pencil "wrong". Guess what? I still do!
3) I avoid cooking Mexican/Latin food. This one's weird because I like the food and I'm not afraid of dabbling in Asian complexities, but there is something about mole, atole, and queso blanco that makes me wary of trying recipes.
4) I would like to learn more "Depression-Era" skills...canning, preserving, sewing, wild-crafting. Skills that lead to self-sufficiency. *shrug* I'm a little less thrilled with learning to dress kills, but I could probably do it.
5) I have never had an address outside of Illinois. I have traveled lots, but always come home.
6) When I went for my colposcopy in October, the doctor announce that my cervix "is a perfect specimen" and asked if he could call his nurses in for a look. WTF? I already had one person poking my privates, what's 2 or 3 more?
7) My favorite cereal is probably Quaker Oats Life.
Small problem with the whole "pass it on" rule: I don't think I read 15 blogs regularly! There are a couple of private blogs I read, but can't share those. Most folks have already been awarded...but here are a couple I enjoy that I haven't seen awarded yet:
Submissive Reflections - hasn't been active in months, though
Opening Doors, Turning Corners by BootPig
Crumbs in my Cleavage by Ninian Taboo
BDSM is Love by LunaKM
So..um...what do I have to do with this award? Life is full of rules and regulations, and the Versatile Blogger Award is no different. So let’s get that out of the way first:
THE RULES
1. Thank the award-giver and link back to them in your post.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass this award along to 15 recently discovered blogs you enjoy reading.
4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award.
Kaya was the one that I was tapped by. Like her, I read and lurk Under His Hand. Occasionally I think I have something to contribute to her thoughts, but mostly I am fascinated with her story.
Seven things...hmmm. In other blogs, people have taken to trying to find seven things that were unknown. That's tough. I generally think I am an open book. Well, maybe you don't know this:
1) Ever since the summer my dad paid me a nickle per weed pulled from the lawn, I've been a little annoyed with grass and lawns. They ain't natural, and while I love to walk on lush, green grass, I am just not up for the work and chemicals it would take. I've talked lots about my solution, though...rip out the grass and put in a native garden!
2) I was scolded in kindergarten for not playing with the baby dolls with the other girls. Or maybe it was just that Sister Kolavan foresaw my future because of my friendships with so many of the boys? *shrug* She also wanted to hold me back because I tied my shoes with two "bunny ears" and held my pencil "wrong". Guess what? I still do!
3) I avoid cooking Mexican/Latin food. This one's weird because I like the food and I'm not afraid of dabbling in Asian complexities, but there is something about mole, atole, and queso blanco that makes me wary of trying recipes.
4) I would like to learn more "Depression-Era" skills...canning, preserving, sewing, wild-crafting. Skills that lead to self-sufficiency. *shrug* I'm a little less thrilled with learning to dress kills, but I could probably do it.
5) I have never had an address outside of Illinois. I have traveled lots, but always come home.
6) When I went for my colposcopy in October, the doctor announce that my cervix "is a perfect specimen" and asked if he could call his nurses in for a look. WTF? I already had one person poking my privates, what's 2 or 3 more?
7) My favorite cereal is probably Quaker Oats Life.
Small problem with the whole "pass it on" rule: I don't think I read 15 blogs regularly! There are a couple of private blogs I read, but can't share those. Most folks have already been awarded...but here are a couple I enjoy that I haven't seen awarded yet:
Submissive Reflections - hasn't been active in months, though
Opening Doors, Turning Corners by BootPig
Crumbs in my Cleavage by Ninian Taboo
BDSM is Love by LunaKM
Monday, November 14, 2011
Awake
I am awake. I am filled with a practical sense of contentment and accomplishment. The hurts my body complains of are results of my growing leaner, stronger. The wetness between my thighs remind me that I was thoroughly ravaged by Beloved merely hours ago. The silver in my hair reveals my true nature, both mature and magical. The callouses on my hands tell of the time spent in the garden and the bruises on my arms speak of success in moving a truckload of "stuff" out of the house. The small wrinkles about my eyes and mouth speak to a happy life.
And yet, I am awake. My mind ripples with thoughts. Who will be where when, and what needs to happen to ensure that? Commitments for tomorrow, responsibilities for this week, plans for the month. All of what I can and do accomplish is broken down into pieces and steps and reassembled into possibilities. Mine is the gift to make lesser miracles happen regularly and predictably, and I am wonderful at what I do. Knowing that I can I provide and bring happiness, it is a pleasure to be of service.
And still, at 3am, I am awake. There's a craving to relinquish all my worries, to surrender my struggles, to be completely owned and loved and protected. I yearn for a sense of purpose and direction instead of the nebulous "freedom" I have staying home. As the leaves fall, I find myself already expanding my garden in the spring. I wish to feel clay beneath my hands, slipping and shaping like a magic art to create bowls and cups to adorn the table. There's a longing for soft caresses, firm hands, warm firelight. There's a desire for the slightly giddy feeling of being uninhibited. I want to spread my wings, feel the wind in my hair, taste the starlight on my tongue.
Thus, I am awake. I cannot sleep when my daydreams are so vivid.
And yet, I am awake. My mind ripples with thoughts. Who will be where when, and what needs to happen to ensure that? Commitments for tomorrow, responsibilities for this week, plans for the month. All of what I can and do accomplish is broken down into pieces and steps and reassembled into possibilities. Mine is the gift to make lesser miracles happen regularly and predictably, and I am wonderful at what I do. Knowing that I can I provide and bring happiness, it is a pleasure to be of service.
And still, at 3am, I am awake. There's a craving to relinquish all my worries, to surrender my struggles, to be completely owned and loved and protected. I yearn for a sense of purpose and direction instead of the nebulous "freedom" I have staying home. As the leaves fall, I find myself already expanding my garden in the spring. I wish to feel clay beneath my hands, slipping and shaping like a magic art to create bowls and cups to adorn the table. There's a longing for soft caresses, firm hands, warm firelight. There's a desire for the slightly giddy feeling of being uninhibited. I want to spread my wings, feel the wind in my hair, taste the starlight on my tongue.
Thus, I am awake. I cannot sleep when my daydreams are so vivid.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Worthy
For four and a half years, I have struggled with D/s concepts. The nebulous life of being a stay-at-home mom removed many of my external limitations and rewards. I have sought guidance through "The Books" only to discard them as ill-fitting. I have had my stomach roll looking at contracts because of the chill-coldness of them. I have cried and screamed and begged for direction because I am lost with no path, and then I have gotten angry when I stumble on the uneven terrain of the path I've been offered.
There are some hard lessons to understand how important and deeply I held my submission. It isn't about the physical...the protocols to memorize or the endurance of a scene. The emotional pain of failing or disappointing can drop me faster than a heavy beating. The sharp spiral I could create for myself was often seated in the quest for perfection. The problem is that the perfection is in MY eyes, not his.
My need to get beyond this grows to an almost undeniable roar...I want to be the me you say you see...I want to know she is me. ~The1muse
Perhaps the greatest service Beloved does for me is to tell me to STOP. It isn't about the dust bunnies behind the couch or the marker on the wall or how well (or poorly) I remember protocols...it is about him and me. He loves me, not what I do.
He has dragged me to bed, cuffed my ankle, and then taken the children out so I could...would...rest. He has waded into my emotional whirlpools and pulled me out. Just last week, when I was despairing over being long-passed trespasses, he had tears of frustration and love in his eyes when he told me, "It isn't your right to forgive. I was the one who was betrayed, and I have the right to forgive you. STOP denying my right to forgive you. Stop denying all the people who love you. Let it go."
Even now, I sit stunned at his words. He has asked that I surrender my faults, my flaws, my insecurities so I may be absolved. I don't know that I quite understood how tightly and fiercely I have nursed my own label as a failure.
This is no game we play; this isn't about the toys or the protocols or the little kinks that we enjoy from time to time in the bedroom. This is the real thing.
I'm scared. Who am I if I let it go? What will happen if I truly am happy? Can I give up feeling unworthy and surrender that much? Am I willing to be worthy?
There are some hard lessons to understand how important and deeply I held my submission. It isn't about the physical...the protocols to memorize or the endurance of a scene. The emotional pain of failing or disappointing can drop me faster than a heavy beating. The sharp spiral I could create for myself was often seated in the quest for perfection. The problem is that the perfection is in MY eyes, not his.
My need to get beyond this grows to an almost undeniable roar...I want to be the me you say you see...I want to know she is me. ~The1muse
Perhaps the greatest service Beloved does for me is to tell me to STOP. It isn't about the dust bunnies behind the couch or the marker on the wall or how well (or poorly) I remember protocols...it is about him and me. He loves me, not what I do.
He has dragged me to bed, cuffed my ankle, and then taken the children out so I could...would...rest. He has waded into my emotional whirlpools and pulled me out. Just last week, when I was despairing over being long-passed trespasses, he had tears of frustration and love in his eyes when he told me, "It isn't your right to forgive. I was the one who was betrayed, and I have the right to forgive you. STOP denying my right to forgive you. Stop denying all the people who love you. Let it go."
Even now, I sit stunned at his words. He has asked that I surrender my faults, my flaws, my insecurities so I may be absolved. I don't know that I quite understood how tightly and fiercely I have nursed my own label as a failure.
This is no game we play; this isn't about the toys or the protocols or the little kinks that we enjoy from time to time in the bedroom. This is the real thing.
I'm scared. Who am I if I let it go? What will happen if I truly am happy? Can I give up feeling unworthy and surrender that much? Am I willing to be worthy?
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Who am I...?
It's a question that everyone asks, the doubt and unsurety leaking out around the edges of the words. Some of us ask more frequently than others. Me...I feel like I ask all the time.
Part of the reason is that I am no single person. I am someone different with Beloved, someone different with Boy and Girl, someone different with Shado, someone different with Sir, someone different when I'm online, someone different in a crisis, someone different in the gym. I cannot deny the facets of these differences, each reflecting a different hue, a unique sparkle.
I struggle with unifying all of these differences into a whole. How can I be mother and slut? How can I be impish and holy? How is it possible to be such divergent possibilities at once?
For a long time, I have allowed others to define me. If I am with YOU, you will see something that I think you will like. You may even glimpse multiple sides of me if you hang around long enough, but even then, I will allow YOU to define the moment, the scene, the relationship.
Yesterday, that led me into temptation. I do not regret the occurrence. For a moment I was heightened, sure, relieved. That was who I was because that was how I was seen. But the moment passed, and in another pair of eyes, I succumb to disappointment, betrayal. I am someone else yet again, defined by the expectations well outside myself.
And so here I am, asking again, who am I...?
Not to you...I know who I am when I am with you...I am whatever you want me to be.
Who am I when I am wholly myself?
Part of the reason is that I am no single person. I am someone different with Beloved, someone different with Boy and Girl, someone different with Shado, someone different with Sir, someone different when I'm online, someone different in a crisis, someone different in the gym. I cannot deny the facets of these differences, each reflecting a different hue, a unique sparkle.
I struggle with unifying all of these differences into a whole. How can I be mother and slut? How can I be impish and holy? How is it possible to be such divergent possibilities at once?
For a long time, I have allowed others to define me. If I am with YOU, you will see something that I think you will like. You may even glimpse multiple sides of me if you hang around long enough, but even then, I will allow YOU to define the moment, the scene, the relationship.
Yesterday, that led me into temptation. I do not regret the occurrence. For a moment I was heightened, sure, relieved. That was who I was because that was how I was seen. But the moment passed, and in another pair of eyes, I succumb to disappointment, betrayal. I am someone else yet again, defined by the expectations well outside myself.
And so here I am, asking again, who am I...?
Not to you...I know who I am when I am with you...I am whatever you want me to be.
Who am I when I am wholly myself?
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Trapped in a soap opera...
Grant me WISDOM to accept the things I cannot change, STRENGTH to change the things I can, and COURAGE to accept the difference.
Either that, or would the director call cut? This really isn't working for me...
Either that, or would the director call cut? This really isn't working for me...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Love and Polyamory
The “English” language is a dastardly mess for complex communications, especially when we talk about ‘love’.
I love my children. I love my spouse. I love my best friend. The score is love all. Send her my love. They made love. I love strawberries. There is no love lost between them. For the love of Christ…
There are MANY other languages that have literally dozens of words which can be used to translate the English word “love”. This is one thing that makes my communications so maddeningly undependable, and something that I have gone round and round on. I do not know quite how to express my feelings with such limited words.
For me, it isn’t about the sex. People place certain meanings on sex that are artificial, but have become an instituted belief in the sacredness of sex. In reality, the act of sex is nothing more than lube and friction with a feel-good finish.
I am not looking to have sex escapades with multiple people. If it were that easy, I’d settle for a large toy collection or a swinging lifestyle. I want the rich complexity of the whole package. I seek connection, attraction, intelligence, uniqueness, personality. I do not fall in love with the body of an individual; I fall in love with the person who lives inside.
In a day of digital isolation, I dare to understand myself and who I am through other people’s eyes. I seek the sharing of deep, personal vulnerabilities. In offering myself, others also feel safe to also be naked emotionally...and together, we discover ACCEPTANCE despite those weaknesses. Sex becomes a physical manifestation of the emotional state.
There IS a fear, both of acceptance and the very strange possibility that love is a finite resource. First time parents may share secret fears that the baby will replace the love-focus of their two-person dynamic. Children worry that a new baby will be loved more, and certainly in the beginning, an infant requires more care and attention than the older child. Primaries ask “Why am I not enough?” and secondaries ask “Why would you pick me?”
I have tried to explain polyamory to monogamous people, and I am often asked, “Don’t you worry that s/he will find someone better?” What they really mean to ask is, how are you so sure that you are irreplaceable?
Society talks all the time about raising children with high self-esteem, confidence, and creativity. We preach about embracing differences, celebrating who YOU are. That YOU are unique and special and there is no one else in the world like YOU.
So why then do we think that we are replaceable in our spouse's eyes? Why do we question our value? Why do we talk about “buying love” as if love is something that can be divided evenly, like cold currency? Why does each person worry over acceptance or if being worthy of love?
There is some truth to needing to love yourself before you can love others. I have to believe that I AM WORTHY of love in order to really accept being loved.
Have I truly accepted that I am worthy? No…I still have inner torment and doubts that sometimes roar loudly. I struggle with why I have multiple secondary relationships and continue to explore additional intimate relationships. Some days, I curse polyamory for ever coming into my life, because it seems like I am forever stumbling over the words, the feelings, the complexities. How do I describe the partnership and lifemate I have in Beloved? How can I love Boy and Girl, and yet long to escape their constant pressing presence? How can I express the intensity of my feelings for individual people who have very different places in my life? How can I possibly love so many people?
How can I not?
I love my children. I love my spouse. I love my best friend. The score is love all. Send her my love. They made love. I love strawberries. There is no love lost between them. For the love of Christ…
There are MANY other languages that have literally dozens of words which can be used to translate the English word “love”. This is one thing that makes my communications so maddeningly undependable, and something that I have gone round and round on. I do not know quite how to express my feelings with such limited words.
For me, it isn’t about the sex. People place certain meanings on sex that are artificial, but have become an instituted belief in the sacredness of sex. In reality, the act of sex is nothing more than lube and friction with a feel-good finish.
I am not looking to have sex escapades with multiple people. If it were that easy, I’d settle for a large toy collection or a swinging lifestyle. I want the rich complexity of the whole package. I seek connection, attraction, intelligence, uniqueness, personality. I do not fall in love with the body of an individual; I fall in love with the person who lives inside.
In a day of digital isolation, I dare to understand myself and who I am through other people’s eyes. I seek the sharing of deep, personal vulnerabilities. In offering myself, others also feel safe to also be naked emotionally...and together, we discover ACCEPTANCE despite those weaknesses. Sex becomes a physical manifestation of the emotional state.
There IS a fear, both of acceptance and the very strange possibility that love is a finite resource. First time parents may share secret fears that the baby will replace the love-focus of their two-person dynamic. Children worry that a new baby will be loved more, and certainly in the beginning, an infant requires more care and attention than the older child. Primaries ask “Why am I not enough?” and secondaries ask “Why would you pick me?”
I have tried to explain polyamory to monogamous people, and I am often asked, “Don’t you worry that s/he will find someone better?” What they really mean to ask is, how are you so sure that you are irreplaceable?
Society talks all the time about raising children with high self-esteem, confidence, and creativity. We preach about embracing differences, celebrating who YOU are. That YOU are unique and special and there is no one else in the world like YOU.
So why then do we think that we are replaceable in our spouse's eyes? Why do we question our value? Why do we talk about “buying love” as if love is something that can be divided evenly, like cold currency? Why does each person worry over acceptance or if being worthy of love?
There is some truth to needing to love yourself before you can love others. I have to believe that I AM WORTHY of love in order to really accept being loved.
Have I truly accepted that I am worthy? No…I still have inner torment and doubts that sometimes roar loudly. I struggle with why I have multiple secondary relationships and continue to explore additional intimate relationships. Some days, I curse polyamory for ever coming into my life, because it seems like I am forever stumbling over the words, the feelings, the complexities. How do I describe the partnership and lifemate I have in Beloved? How can I love Boy and Girl, and yet long to escape their constant pressing presence? How can I express the intensity of my feelings for individual people who have very different places in my life? How can I possibly love so many people?
How can I not?
Monday, October 3, 2011
Legal Petition: Keep the Government out of my bedroom!
We the People is a new feature on WhiteHouse.gov. It provides a new way to petition the Obama Administration to take action on a range of important issues facing our country. We created We the People because we want to hear from you. If a petition gets enough support (150 to go "public" and 5,000 to get staff attention), White House staff will review it, ensure it’s sent to the appropriate policy experts, and issue an official response.
Keep the Government out of my bedroom! Legalize sexual activities between consenting adults.
Laws that dictate what consenting adults can or cannot do in their own home are nothing less than unconstitutional, an invasion of privacy, and a violation of human dignity. These laws MUST be taken off the books. These include laws involving Fornication, Sodomy, Cohabitation without Marriage, and Adultery.
You can view and sign the petition here:
http://wh.gov/4Qg
Will you add your name to mine? If this petition gets 5,000 signatures by October 27, 2011, the White House will review it and respond!
Please share!
Keep the Government out of my bedroom! Legalize sexual activities between consenting adults.
Laws that dictate what consenting adults can or cannot do in their own home are nothing less than unconstitutional, an invasion of privacy, and a violation of human dignity. These laws MUST be taken off the books. These include laws involving Fornication, Sodomy, Cohabitation without Marriage, and Adultery.
You can view and sign the petition here:
http://wh.gov/4Qg
Will you add your name to mine? If this petition gets 5,000 signatures by October 27, 2011, the White House will review it and respond!
Please share!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Polyamory is Wrong
There is a fun appreciation for this shirt in the polyamory circles. In general, we lighthearted dismiss judgement. How can love be wrong?
But this week has been hard. I have been asked some very pointed questions, and sorting out the answers makes my head ache. Still, I want to share my own interpretation...and perhaps gain some understanding.
It almost seems like you are continually seeking something you can not find. What is it that drives you to constantly seek out new personal and intimate relationships? What is it the you truly seek in all these relationships?
In my own ears, it sounds like an excuse, but we are shaped individually by our early experiences. While my childhood was filled with love and attention, I also learned that nothing is forever. My sister was born when I was two and her life was wrought with health issues. I was often in the care of others because my parents were at the hospital with her. My mother's cancer battles began when I was eight. When I was nine, I dealt with gang-rape, but with my mother in a coma and my father consumed with fear and responsibility, I didn't...couldn't...tell anyone. I was alone, despite all of the people around us and helping us. My mom underwent rounds of surgeries, radiation, chemotherapy. It was ugly and scary, and my father was unable to cope alone and with permission, he sought the company of another woman. My mom lost the war when I was fourteen, and she asked me to deal the final strike. I buried my feelings by assuming the "head of household" role, as my father sank into depression and alcoholism. Beloved "rescued" me, inviting me to marry him, when I was nineteen.
Complicated, eh? Lessons...life is fragile and medicine can't always save you; my needs are not a priority when others are in need; it is crucial to have a network of friends because we can't be everywhere at once; seeking the love and comfort of others is okay; sometimes we face nightmares completely alone, despite all the love and support.
My life with Beloved has been blessed. He has fought to overcome the neuroses with the patience and courage of a saint. He has nourished me, and I have flourished with his attention. And yet...soft smile We would talk about other people, but he was the one who ventured into another relationship first. I'm grateful to the woman he choose, as she was very conscientious and respectful of me, as a person and as Beloved's wife. But what's been done can't be undone. Can it?
what are you running from?
What is there NOT to run away from? On the bad days, I am a murderer and a slut. On the good days, I struggle with a sense of self-worth. The deep, intense need for measurable approval and external reassurance is huge. I cannot fathom the reasons that anyone would want me, in part because I am "damaged goods" in many ways. I do not see the value that others see in me. Then there are the situations when I find myself alone in the crowd, despite my attempts to fit in. If I cannot gain entry into the circle with being myself, what else do I have? If my sex is good enough to steal, is it good enough to buy the love and sense of connection to other people? Does that cheapen my relationships? I ache as I write, but the question is there, and running seems like a good option.
Are you afraid planting roots? Would the comfort of established relationships be such a heavy burden to bear? If so, why?
Yes, I am afraid of planting roots, in part because I do not like who I am. I want to be "better" than the image I have of myself. I want to be "good" and "acceptable" in a crowd, and I am not right now. I loathe the idea that this is what will be every day for the rest of my life. I do not want to feel this way about myself.
But little in my experience has taught me comfort in established relationships. Just this summer, members of my family...people who MATTER to ME...announced their rejection of me. What I thought was "established" turned out to be what I wanted to see. I never knew about the jealousy over my educational pursuits, the disapproval of my parenting style. Top that with the immoral poly lifestyle, and the last straw was drawn. Even within my own family, I am now an outsider.
Beloved remains my hero. In our almost seventeen years together, he has not abandoned me or given up on me. There have been a few painful moments, but when I would run, he has held me tight, kept me safe. My love is so strong that it makes me dizzy.
Then the little demon voice comes whispering. What have I done to be worthy? How long until I screw it up? Or have I already screwed it up? Wouldn't it be better if you just disappeared? What will I do if he leaves me? Who will I turn to then?
I have several relationships that I can turn to, but perhaps that is only because I have not revealed my whole. I have many facets, many faces, and maybe if I don't reveal them...maybe if I can find the one face that you like, then you will accept me and take care of me. That cold pit in the stomach grows with each thought.
Am I fooling anybody, or only myself?
But this week has been hard. I have been asked some very pointed questions, and sorting out the answers makes my head ache. Still, I want to share my own interpretation...and perhaps gain some understanding.
It almost seems like you are continually seeking something you can not find. What is it that drives you to constantly seek out new personal and intimate relationships? What is it the you truly seek in all these relationships?
In my own ears, it sounds like an excuse, but we are shaped individually by our early experiences. While my childhood was filled with love and attention, I also learned that nothing is forever. My sister was born when I was two and her life was wrought with health issues. I was often in the care of others because my parents were at the hospital with her. My mother's cancer battles began when I was eight. When I was nine, I dealt with gang-rape, but with my mother in a coma and my father consumed with fear and responsibility, I didn't...couldn't...tell anyone. I was alone, despite all of the people around us and helping us. My mom underwent rounds of surgeries, radiation, chemotherapy. It was ugly and scary, and my father was unable to cope alone and with permission, he sought the company of another woman. My mom lost the war when I was fourteen, and she asked me to deal the final strike. I buried my feelings by assuming the "head of household" role, as my father sank into depression and alcoholism. Beloved "rescued" me, inviting me to marry him, when I was nineteen.
Complicated, eh? Lessons...life is fragile and medicine can't always save you; my needs are not a priority when others are in need; it is crucial to have a network of friends because we can't be everywhere at once; seeking the love and comfort of others is okay; sometimes we face nightmares completely alone, despite all the love and support.
My life with Beloved has been blessed. He has fought to overcome the neuroses with the patience and courage of a saint. He has nourished me, and I have flourished with his attention. And yet...soft smile We would talk about other people, but he was the one who ventured into another relationship first. I'm grateful to the woman he choose, as she was very conscientious and respectful of me, as a person and as Beloved's wife. But what's been done can't be undone. Can it?
what are you running from?
What is there NOT to run away from? On the bad days, I am a murderer and a slut. On the good days, I struggle with a sense of self-worth. The deep, intense need for measurable approval and external reassurance is huge. I cannot fathom the reasons that anyone would want me, in part because I am "damaged goods" in many ways. I do not see the value that others see in me. Then there are the situations when I find myself alone in the crowd, despite my attempts to fit in. If I cannot gain entry into the circle with being myself, what else do I have? If my sex is good enough to steal, is it good enough to buy the love and sense of connection to other people? Does that cheapen my relationships? I ache as I write, but the question is there, and running seems like a good option.
Are you afraid planting roots? Would the comfort of established relationships be such a heavy burden to bear? If so, why?
Yes, I am afraid of planting roots, in part because I do not like who I am. I want to be "better" than the image I have of myself. I want to be "good" and "acceptable" in a crowd, and I am not right now. I loathe the idea that this is what will be every day for the rest of my life. I do not want to feel this way about myself.
But little in my experience has taught me comfort in established relationships. Just this summer, members of my family...people who MATTER to ME...announced their rejection of me. What I thought was "established" turned out to be what I wanted to see. I never knew about the jealousy over my educational pursuits, the disapproval of my parenting style. Top that with the immoral poly lifestyle, and the last straw was drawn. Even within my own family, I am now an outsider.
Beloved remains my hero. In our almost seventeen years together, he has not abandoned me or given up on me. There have been a few painful moments, but when I would run, he has held me tight, kept me safe. My love is so strong that it makes me dizzy.
Then the little demon voice comes whispering. What have I done to be worthy? How long until I screw it up? Or have I already screwed it up? Wouldn't it be better if you just disappeared? What will I do if he leaves me? Who will I turn to then?
I have several relationships that I can turn to, but perhaps that is only because I have not revealed my whole. I have many facets, many faces, and maybe if I don't reveal them...maybe if I can find the one face that you like, then you will accept me and take care of me. That cold pit in the stomach grows with each thought.
Am I fooling anybody, or only myself?
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Jazz Hands and Drama
I had a good weekend and I'm doing penance for it this week. oiy.
I suppose some of it is my own fault. I haven't been to bed before midnight once this week, largely because I've been having talks with Beloved about hard things. A lack of sleep always makes me edgy.
Add to that, I have been to the gym three times in three days. I am friggin' exhausted! Thank goodness tomorrow is Thursday and I don't have a workout to make!
I'm embarrassed and frustrated that after a decade of non-monogamy, the lifestyle caught up with us. I got a call from the doctor's office about an abnormal Pap for HPV, and they want a follow-up colposcopy. Yea! The bitch of the situation is telling my partners and my partners' partners. I didn't have it in June, I have an abnormal test now with an invasive follow-up. While I've only been with two people, there's no real telling who I got it from, or where he picked it up. So...yeah.
This has created some ripples in other relationships, and I'm feeling pretty miserable about being the cause. It doesn't change anything, but I'm sorry.
Beloved has been poking and prodding into why I have so many relationships. I feel like every time he asks, what I say sounds like an excuse and not a real explanation. Stuart Davis' Female Friend comes to mind, only in reverse. I'm hopeless. Sometimes...*sigh*
I was invited to go camping this weekend with yet another friend whom I'm interested in, but... *sigh* I am going, Beloved has said I can go. The guilt-complex I weave is about leaving him with the kids and potentially exploring another relationship. So, I accept the original "just friends" and we talk, hike, and potentially do some trance/mediation work. Easy. Right?
There's been MAJOR drama in another relationship, but I can't talk about that because really, I'm on the periphery. Beloved's reminded me not to take too much ownership, but it's hard because my friend is hurting so badly. Unfortunately, there is no easy answer.
End summary is that despite having the day child-free, I'm grumpy and tired and edgy. Sleep will (hopefully) go a long way towards sorting some of the stuff out, and the Serenity Prayer will add another layer of peace...
I suppose some of it is my own fault. I haven't been to bed before midnight once this week, largely because I've been having talks with Beloved about hard things. A lack of sleep always makes me edgy.
Add to that, I have been to the gym three times in three days. I am friggin' exhausted! Thank goodness tomorrow is Thursday and I don't have a workout to make!
I'm embarrassed and frustrated that after a decade of non-monogamy, the lifestyle caught up with us. I got a call from the doctor's office about an abnormal Pap for HPV, and they want a follow-up colposcopy. Yea! The bitch of the situation is telling my partners and my partners' partners. I didn't have it in June, I have an abnormal test now with an invasive follow-up. While I've only been with two people, there's no real telling who I got it from, or where he picked it up. So...yeah.
This has created some ripples in other relationships, and I'm feeling pretty miserable about being the cause. It doesn't change anything, but I'm sorry.
Beloved has been poking and prodding into why I have so many relationships. I feel like every time he asks, what I say sounds like an excuse and not a real explanation. Stuart Davis' Female Friend comes to mind, only in reverse. I'm hopeless. Sometimes...*sigh*
I was invited to go camping this weekend with yet another friend whom I'm interested in, but... *sigh* I am going, Beloved has said I can go. The guilt-complex I weave is about leaving him with the kids and potentially exploring another relationship. So, I accept the original "just friends" and we talk, hike, and potentially do some trance/mediation work. Easy. Right?
There's been MAJOR drama in another relationship, but I can't talk about that because really, I'm on the periphery. Beloved's reminded me not to take too much ownership, but it's hard because my friend is hurting so badly. Unfortunately, there is no easy answer.
End summary is that despite having the day child-free, I'm grumpy and tired and edgy. Sleep will (hopefully) go a long way towards sorting some of the stuff out, and the Serenity Prayer will add another layer of peace...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
What is a submissive?
There is a dynamic and language is rarely good at capturing the depths and nuances.
When we think about D/s relationships, we are influenced, even trapped by the words we use and the images they invoke. In D/s, we usually think 'power exchange' rather than 'partnership'. If instead we consider service as the fundamental basis of a power exchange, the Dominant who receives service and the submissive who provides service are actually co-creators of value FOR the service in question, where the service is the application of skills and knowledge for the benefit of another party.
Someone offered definition of a submissive as one who has chosen to put the needs/wants/desires/wishes of her dominant ahead of her own.
I would edit that slightly.
For ME, a submissive is someone who accepts a role in which personal preferences are set aside to focus on the desire to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another. A submissive may wear a collar or sign a contract to signify the dedication to this desire. A submissive serves and submits to the will of another for a scene, an evening, a job, a year, a relationship. A Dominant may well be a submissive when catering to a client's demands or providing a flogging they really aren't interested in. A Dominate may take a submissive role to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another person. A submissive exists as a role that we can step in and out of. Outside of the time frame, the individual may or may not be submissive.
When someone is submissive, they have certain traits, personalities, habits that lean towards a sense of joy from service. Thus a masochist who submits to a sadist; a dedicated bootblack; a domestic who takes satisfaction from cleaning the house are all individuals who are submissive. Individuals who are submissive do this because they gain a sense of value and an understanding of self. Submission can also help to build social interaction, participation in the relationship, and expanding skills and knowledge in a particular area.
Thus, I am a submissive submissive, but I can be a dominate (aka, "alpha") submissive as well.
I accept the will of Beloved over my own in our relationship. My desires to please him come before my own preferences. I provide all sorts of services, freeing him from as much of the mundane household responsibilities as possible. I take joy, have a sense of value, and accept the challenge of improving myself in the places he asks.
Sometimes, however, I have to be pretty bossy in order to fulfill Beloved's (and others') needs. I will take ownership of unpleasant tasks. I will step in and provide guidance or organization for a project. I will insist on a doctor's appointment or that a break be taken to eat something. It might not look like a textbook version of D/s, but sometimes my service-submission is greatest when my actions look dominant.
When we think about D/s relationships, we are influenced, even trapped by the words we use and the images they invoke. In D/s, we usually think 'power exchange' rather than 'partnership'. If instead we consider service as the fundamental basis of a power exchange, the Dominant who receives service and the submissive who provides service are actually co-creators of value FOR the service in question, where the service is the application of skills and knowledge for the benefit of another party.
Someone offered definition of a submissive as one who has chosen to put the needs/wants/desires/wishes of her dominant ahead of her own.
I would edit that slightly.
For ME, a submissive is someone who accepts a role in which personal preferences are set aside to focus on the desire to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another. A submissive may wear a collar or sign a contract to signify the dedication to this desire. A submissive serves and submits to the will of another for a scene, an evening, a job, a year, a relationship. A Dominant may well be a submissive when catering to a client's demands or providing a flogging they really aren't interested in. A Dominate may take a submissive role to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another person. A submissive exists as a role that we can step in and out of. Outside of the time frame, the individual may or may not be submissive.
When someone is submissive, they have certain traits, personalities, habits that lean towards a sense of joy from service. Thus a masochist who submits to a sadist; a dedicated bootblack; a domestic who takes satisfaction from cleaning the house are all individuals who are submissive. Individuals who are submissive do this because they gain a sense of value and an understanding of self. Submission can also help to build social interaction, participation in the relationship, and expanding skills and knowledge in a particular area.
Thus, I am a submissive submissive, but I can be a dominate (aka, "alpha") submissive as well.
I accept the will of Beloved over my own in our relationship. My desires to please him come before my own preferences. I provide all sorts of services, freeing him from as much of the mundane household responsibilities as possible. I take joy, have a sense of value, and accept the challenge of improving myself in the places he asks.
Sometimes, however, I have to be pretty bossy in order to fulfill Beloved's (and others') needs. I will take ownership of unpleasant tasks. I will step in and provide guidance or organization for a project. I will insist on a doctor's appointment or that a break be taken to eat something. It might not look like a textbook version of D/s, but sometimes my service-submission is greatest when my actions look dominant.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Yours and Mine
In the dark, I wait for You. Quiet, pensive, anxious. What do we have left? What will we create? What will we destroy?
Such is our relationship. We each bring hurts and weaknesses, despite our bravo and strength. We feed into each other, drawing out the vulnerabilities, teasing each other to taste the bitterness. Time apart dissolves, meaningless, when we meet again.
From Your bag, you pull a bit of leather and metal. A pittance, perhaps, but the memories are strong. Tears fill my eyes, grateful, joyful, yearning, and You draw the collar about my slender neck, claiming me as Yours, if only for the time that we have.
Two nights, and even that is not entirely alone. But it is what we have, and we explore familiar and fearful spaces. I bring you to your knees simply by asking and You break me in minutes with Your knowledge. We spend hours on the couch, talking, touching.
Departure comes, and we are each reluctant. Will the fears we shared this time haunt us? What infinite changes have we wrought? When will we meet again?
Those answers are only things that time will tell, but one thing is for certain. I may be Yours, but you are equally Mine.
Such is our relationship. We each bring hurts and weaknesses, despite our bravo and strength. We feed into each other, drawing out the vulnerabilities, teasing each other to taste the bitterness. Time apart dissolves, meaningless, when we meet again.
From Your bag, you pull a bit of leather and metal. A pittance, perhaps, but the memories are strong. Tears fill my eyes, grateful, joyful, yearning, and You draw the collar about my slender neck, claiming me as Yours, if only for the time that we have.
Two nights, and even that is not entirely alone. But it is what we have, and we explore familiar and fearful spaces. I bring you to your knees simply by asking and You break me in minutes with Your knowledge. We spend hours on the couch, talking, touching.
Departure comes, and we are each reluctant. Will the fears we shared this time haunt us? What infinite changes have we wrought? When will we meet again?
Those answers are only things that time will tell, but one thing is for certain. I may be Yours, but you are equally Mine.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
How to be a gracious bitch
Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her excitement, not even her parent’s nasty divorce. Her mother had found the perfect dress to wear, and she would be the best-dressed mother-of-the-bride ever! A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new young wife had bought the exact same dress as her mother’s! Jennifer asked her father's new wife to exchange it, but she refused. “Absolutely not!” she replied. “I look stunning in this dress, and I'm going to wear it on your wedding day.”
Later, Jennifer told her mother about the conflict and she graciously reassured her, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll find another dress. After all, it's your special day.'' A few days later, they went shopping, and found another gorgeous dress for her mother. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it." Her mother just smiled pleasantly and replied, ''Of course I do dear; I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night BEFORE the wedding.''
Later, Jennifer told her mother about the conflict and she graciously reassured her, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll find another dress. After all, it's your special day.'' A few days later, they went shopping, and found another gorgeous dress for her mother. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it." Her mother just smiled pleasantly and replied, ''Of course I do dear; I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night BEFORE the wedding.''
Friday, September 16, 2011
The Great Pear Experiment (or how I made Hearty Breakfast Pear Stew)
In the abandoned lot behind our house, there is a pear tree. I'm not sure if, in prior years, this tree was stripped early of its fruit or didn't bear fruit, but this year was bountiful. Beloved has been enjoying pears as a treat when he comes home from work, and it is the first place the kids want to go any time we get home from an excursion. Last night was no exception. Walking back to the house with a pear in each hand, Boy declared that he was hungry and wanted pear stew.
O-kay...well, naturally there is Google and there are recipes out there for Stoofperen, pear butter, pears with pork chops, baked pears, all kinds of pear recipes. None of them were quite the thing that I was looking for, nor did I have the ingredients for many of them. Thus, it is nearing midnight and I am stuck on what belongs in a pear stew.
For starters, I want to make it a breakfast thing. I want to have Boy come downstairs in the morning and be able to tell him that I made him pear stew. I want it to be sweet, but have a touch of savory. A good stew has a hearty grain in it. And then, there is the question of "what do I have that needs to be used up?" I pulled out the crock pot, selected a knife, and started opening the cupboards. Here's what I came up with:
Hearty Breakfast Pear Stew
Ingredients:
4 VERY crisp pears, cubed
1/4 butternut squash, peeled and cubed (yet another treat featuring squash from Rain's mother!)
1/2 vidalia onion, diced
1/4 c. steel cut oats
1 pkg bacon, diced (it was a disappointing pack...more fat than meat...after trimming I'd guess about 1 cup of meat went into the pot)
1 1/4 c apple juice
1/3 c honey (gifted to my by Tinman!)
1 tbsp vanilla
1/2 tea cinnamon
1/8 tea clove
Put everything in the crock pot and cook on LOW for 6-8 hours.
I'll let you know the final vote, but MAN it smells good!
O-kay...well, naturally there is Google and there are recipes out there for Stoofperen, pear butter, pears with pork chops, baked pears, all kinds of pear recipes. None of them were quite the thing that I was looking for, nor did I have the ingredients for many of them. Thus, it is nearing midnight and I am stuck on what belongs in a pear stew.
For starters, I want to make it a breakfast thing. I want to have Boy come downstairs in the morning and be able to tell him that I made him pear stew. I want it to be sweet, but have a touch of savory. A good stew has a hearty grain in it. And then, there is the question of "what do I have that needs to be used up?" I pulled out the crock pot, selected a knife, and started opening the cupboards. Here's what I came up with:
Hearty Breakfast Pear Stew
Ingredients:
4 VERY crisp pears, cubed
1/4 butternut squash, peeled and cubed (yet another treat featuring squash from Rain's mother!)
1/2 vidalia onion, diced
1/4 c. steel cut oats
1 pkg bacon, diced (it was a disappointing pack...more fat than meat...after trimming I'd guess about 1 cup of meat went into the pot)
1 1/4 c apple juice
1/3 c honey (gifted to my by Tinman!)
1 tbsp vanilla
1/2 tea cinnamon
1/8 tea clove
Put everything in the crock pot and cook on LOW for 6-8 hours.
I'll let you know the final vote, but MAN it smells good!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
About September 11th...risking outrage
Over the next week or so, the American people are going to gather in various places to pay homage to the events of September 11, 2001. There are candlelit vigils, parades, speaker events. There are articles about the "9/11 kids" (those 10,000 babes born on that day) or just how we should explain the meaning of THAT day to little children.
Me? I say Bah! Humbug!
These memorials and gatherings are surface polish that do not carry any real meaning. I see the list of upcoming events, and I see thousands of people wallowing in self-pity. I see just how much the terrorists WON.
* People remain afraid to fly. Security measures have become such that air ports employ body scanners and parents won't allow children to fly because perverts can get naked pictures of the kids. We end up buying shampoo, toothpaste, and body lotion because we can't bring our own on board. Hell, we can't even bring a factory-sealed bottle of WATER on board.
*People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.
*People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."
* People are afraid, and they are reminded often that there is reason to fear. The massacres in Norway, Tucson, AR, Fort Hood, TX, NIU, Virginia Tech, Seattle, WA, Madrid, Spain, London, England, and on and on. We are no safer today than we were ten years ago. Terrorists are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. And they have succeeded in making us weak through isolation. The terrorists have won. We now live with the understand that there’s a level of danger even here.
So...what are you going to do to "memorialize" the tenth anniversary of 9/11?
If you think parading about with a candle is a great idea, think again. The lives lost on September 11, 2001 and those lost in the wars subsequent to that fateful day are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. I have some ideas for you.
* Plan a picnic in a park with your family.
* Start up a softball game at the corner lot.
* Knock on your neighbor's door and introduce yourself.
* Sign up to take a class about another language, culture, or religion.
* Give blood.
* Go to a museum, cultural center, or tour your neighborhood.
* Organize a creek clean-up.
* Make an old-fashioned apple pie.
* Visit someone in a nursing home and ask them their story.
* Unplug the fricken iPod, phone, computer and connect with an actual person!
These are the things that make a great people! It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?
Me? I say Bah! Humbug!
These memorials and gatherings are surface polish that do not carry any real meaning. I see the list of upcoming events, and I see thousands of people wallowing in self-pity. I see just how much the terrorists WON.
* People remain afraid to fly. Security measures have become such that air ports employ body scanners and parents won't allow children to fly because perverts can get naked pictures of the kids. We end up buying shampoo, toothpaste, and body lotion because we can't bring our own on board. Hell, we can't even bring a factory-sealed bottle of WATER on board.
*People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.
*People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."
* People are afraid, and they are reminded often that there is reason to fear. The massacres in Norway, Tucson, AR, Fort Hood, TX, NIU, Virginia Tech, Seattle, WA, Madrid, Spain, London, England, and on and on. We are no safer today than we were ten years ago. Terrorists are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. And they have succeeded in making us weak through isolation. The terrorists have won. We now live with the understand that there’s a level of danger even here.
So...what are you going to do to "memorialize" the tenth anniversary of 9/11?
If you think parading about with a candle is a great idea, think again. The lives lost on September 11, 2001 and those lost in the wars subsequent to that fateful day are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. I have some ideas for you.
* Plan a picnic in a park with your family.
* Start up a softball game at the corner lot.
* Knock on your neighbor's door and introduce yourself.
* Sign up to take a class about another language, culture, or religion.
* Give blood.
* Go to a museum, cultural center, or tour your neighborhood.
* Organize a creek clean-up.
* Make an old-fashioned apple pie.
* Visit someone in a nursing home and ask them their story.
* Unplug the fricken iPod, phone, computer and connect with an actual person!
These are the things that make a great people! It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Season of change...I hope...
It's late, so I'm probably not thinking clearly. Plus I have a headache. But I can't sleep, so here I am, zoning into the computer and writing to you.
It has been a bitch of a summer. Battling depression in the brutal heat is much worse than it is in the winter. In the winter, you can burrow under the blankets and hide. In the summer, you don't even have THAT small comfort. wry smile I tried, and overheating drove me here to try again to sort out my life. Maybe when I'm done, I will fold laundry and take out the trash.
There's no space between my thoughts to THINK, let alone gain a handle on what needs to be done next. I have been putting one foot in front of the other, head bowed, trying to get through the day. I *hate* being here, but I am afraid to stop because if I do, I might drown. It's like quicksand...it's hard NOT to struggle against it. With nothing being clear, it is so damnably easy to point at others for their lack of clarity. When there is no established plan, it is too easy to lay blame for changing the plan.
Tonight, I fought with Beloved this evening, complete with raised voices and harsh words. It's been building for a while, and we are both at fault. I want to be so much MORE than I am...than I have been. Where I normally feel compersion, I have been feeling tired and irritable. I told him earlier that I felt like Mrs. Cratchit, and I meant it. He works too hard for too little recognition. It makes me bitter about his work, my lack of work, the state of the house, the overwhelmed days with the kids, and the time that is spent with Rain, which is now confined to visits every couple of weeks. And I lashed out, claws outstretched, and swiped at Beloved, at ShadoKnight, at Rain. I feel bad for it and I apologized but it hasn't changed the confusion and frustration I feel inside.
"You try to find yourself in the abstractions of religion and the cruelty of everyone else. And you wake up to realize your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive...When you're standing in deep water and you're bailing yourself out with a straw..." ~Jewel
I am tired of being told that I'm worth it, or that it's good to be of service because it is hollow to me. I do not feel worthy and I want to regain my confidence and drive to make others happy and comfortable. But I don't know where to strike the balance. I want to please, but I want to remain sane. I want to serve without feeling used. I want to be both strong and vulnerable...but...
but...
sigh Does any of it make any sense? I doubt it. So much is in my own head, viewed through a kaleidoscope of emotion and mood. I trust in the bit of therapy of random association and free thought. And I rely on time. Healing time.
"this strange season of pain will come to pass when the healing hands of autumn cool me down" ~ Indigo Girls
Storms swept through this afternoon, and it is a soothing 68F. The frogs and crickets are singing their hearts out and the house is quiet. Blissfully quiet. I should sleep...but I am loathe to miss the opportunity to be alone. To dance, because at the moment nobody is watching, and maybe I will remember the steps...and maybe...just maybe...I'll remember them in the morning, too.
It has been a bitch of a summer. Battling depression in the brutal heat is much worse than it is in the winter. In the winter, you can burrow under the blankets and hide. In the summer, you don't even have THAT small comfort. wry smile I tried, and overheating drove me here to try again to sort out my life. Maybe when I'm done, I will fold laundry and take out the trash.
There's no space between my thoughts to THINK, let alone gain a handle on what needs to be done next. I have been putting one foot in front of the other, head bowed, trying to get through the day. I *hate* being here, but I am afraid to stop because if I do, I might drown. It's like quicksand...it's hard NOT to struggle against it. With nothing being clear, it is so damnably easy to point at others for their lack of clarity. When there is no established plan, it is too easy to lay blame for changing the plan.
Tonight, I fought with Beloved this evening, complete with raised voices and harsh words. It's been building for a while, and we are both at fault. I want to be so much MORE than I am...than I have been. Where I normally feel compersion, I have been feeling tired and irritable. I told him earlier that I felt like Mrs. Cratchit, and I meant it. He works too hard for too little recognition. It makes me bitter about his work, my lack of work, the state of the house, the overwhelmed days with the kids, and the time that is spent with Rain, which is now confined to visits every couple of weeks. And I lashed out, claws outstretched, and swiped at Beloved, at ShadoKnight, at Rain. I feel bad for it and I apologized but it hasn't changed the confusion and frustration I feel inside.
"You try to find yourself in the abstractions of religion and the cruelty of everyone else. And you wake up to realize your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive...When you're standing in deep water and you're bailing yourself out with a straw..." ~Jewel
I am tired of being told that I'm worth it, or that it's good to be of service because it is hollow to me. I do not feel worthy and I want to regain my confidence and drive to make others happy and comfortable. But I don't know where to strike the balance. I want to please, but I want to remain sane. I want to serve without feeling used. I want to be both strong and vulnerable...but...
but...
sigh Does any of it make any sense? I doubt it. So much is in my own head, viewed through a kaleidoscope of emotion and mood. I trust in the bit of therapy of random association and free thought. And I rely on time. Healing time.
"this strange season of pain will come to pass when the healing hands of autumn cool me down" ~ Indigo Girls
Storms swept through this afternoon, and it is a soothing 68F. The frogs and crickets are singing their hearts out and the house is quiet. Blissfully quiet. I should sleep...but I am loathe to miss the opportunity to be alone. To dance, because at the moment nobody is watching, and maybe I will remember the steps...and maybe...just maybe...I'll remember them in the morning, too.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
so what do you do when...
you have been "out" with a family member for years and years, and they suddenly take issue?
We were invited to hide from the heatwave back at my aunt's air-conditioned house in July. At the time, my cousin was also staying at the house. We asked and were told that it was fine to have a friend with us. We even explained the relationship to the cousin, who then revealed HE had a V-relationship himself.
We were very conscientious and there was no sex, no play, nothing we had to hide from the kids (or anyone else, so we thought). We DID share the master bedroom between the three adults, although a child was often added or an adult subtracted because what else do you do when the kids wake up in the middle of the night? After our stay, we stripped and washed all the linens, restocked the fridge, cleaned the bathrooms, watered the plants, and left things in better shape than when we had arrived.
Tonight, I got a complaint, not from my aunt or my cousin, but from my sister, who says we took advantage of hospitality and are sending mixed messages to the kids and it's wrong.
*raises eyebrow* I am going to resist the urge to turn tables and point at flaws. I'm frustrated and concerned that the claim is "others are uncomfortable". I *think* it's just her being uncomfortable, but it is hard to tell because...well, family talks, right? I don't know quite how to proceed. If I have asked permission of our host to bring a friend, am I "taking advantage"? I feel like I am being forced to choose between my blood-family and my poly-family. Beloved and I have always prided ourselves on being able to balance vanilla and non-vanilla flavors in our lives. Have we been kidding ourselves all along?
The whole thing makes me grumpy.
Bright side, in writing this, I got distracted by looking for poly-themed kids books. There aren't many, but the ones I did find look cute!
Six-Dinner Sid
Else-Marie and Her Seven Little Daddies
Two of Everything
If you happen to know of others, I'd love to know...
We were invited to hide from the heatwave back at my aunt's air-conditioned house in July. At the time, my cousin was also staying at the house. We asked and were told that it was fine to have a friend with us. We even explained the relationship to the cousin, who then revealed HE had a V-relationship himself.
We were very conscientious and there was no sex, no play, nothing we had to hide from the kids (or anyone else, so we thought). We DID share the master bedroom between the three adults, although a child was often added or an adult subtracted because what else do you do when the kids wake up in the middle of the night? After our stay, we stripped and washed all the linens, restocked the fridge, cleaned the bathrooms, watered the plants, and left things in better shape than when we had arrived.
Tonight, I got a complaint, not from my aunt or my cousin, but from my sister, who says we took advantage of hospitality and are sending mixed messages to the kids and it's wrong.
*raises eyebrow* I am going to resist the urge to turn tables and point at flaws. I'm frustrated and concerned that the claim is "others are uncomfortable". I *think* it's just her being uncomfortable, but it is hard to tell because...well, family talks, right? I don't know quite how to proceed. If I have asked permission of our host to bring a friend, am I "taking advantage"? I feel like I am being forced to choose between my blood-family and my poly-family. Beloved and I have always prided ourselves on being able to balance vanilla and non-vanilla flavors in our lives. Have we been kidding ourselves all along?
The whole thing makes me grumpy.
Bright side, in writing this, I got distracted by looking for poly-themed kids books. There aren't many, but the ones I did find look cute!
Six-Dinner Sid
Else-Marie and Her Seven Little Daddies
Two of Everything
If you happen to know of others, I'd love to know...
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Shattered
"The book is an attempt to reverse this flow of information, to find objective "evidence" for what she has discovered through private experience, that after the birth of her child a woman's equality is shown to be not the great evolutionary transformation of the modern era, but a kind of temporary, easily revoked passport into the world of men. In Shattered, the emotional becomes the factual and statistical; the private is refracted through the stories of others, elicited in interviews with parents up and down the country and abroad.
Why does a woman become angry when she has a baby? One answer is: because she has lost the power of autonomy and free will in her own life. From the first moment of her pregnancy, a woman finds herself subject to forces over which she has no control, not least those of the body itself. This subjection applies equally to the unknown and the known: she is her body's subject, her doctor's subject, her baby's subject, and in this biological work she has undertaken she becomes society's and history's subject too. But where she feels the subjection most is in the territories, whatever they are, that in her pre-maternal life she made her own. The threat to what made her herself, to what made her an individual: this is what the mother finds hardest to face down. Having been told all her life to value her individuality and pursue its aims, she encounters an outright contradiction, a betrayal – even among the very gatekeepers of her identity, her husband or colleagues or friends – in the requirement that she surrender it.
In fact, a woman is never more of an individual than in her response to the conformity of motherhood: it is her individuality, after all, that is being questioned. This is one of the things that makes the culture of motherhood so difficult to grapple with. Motherhood may look like a genre, but in reality it is an infinitesimal network of secret pacts and compromises, of private bargainings with the self. Beginning with pregnancy and birth, it is taxing in its solitude, as well as taxing of solitude; it takes away all the profit in being alone, and leaves mere loneliness. The new mother – and not just the new mother – is lonely, and yet never on her own.
Rebecca Asher is not wrong to see a general hazard in the adaptation of culturally equal, post-feminist woman to the time-honoured injustices of family life, but formulating a cri de coeur out of it is a delicate matter. Her own indignation has its genesis in the fact that after the birth of their son, the equality that she and her husband, both working professionals, believed they shared was proved to be artificial: with a newborn baby in the house, he was free to resume his old life and return to work, while she was not. Where, then, had this impression of equality come from? And who was responsible for its disappearance? Well, like many intelligent women of her age, no one ever told her that she wasn't equal: it was from outside that the impression came, from the attainments she was free to pursue, the liberties that were available to her, the achievements and jobs she was able to acquire. And no one ever told her husband that he was fettered by his biological destiny, that with the birth of his child his whole life would have to change. So while the old idea of woman had certainly been done away with, no one had thought to put anything in its place. The baby comes and everyone panics, looking for the woman who's going to take care of it, and like the doctor of philosophy summoned over the PA to attend a medical emergency, there's a case of mistaken identity. "Mother" and "woman" are at this stage still just words, but it's a crisis so she'll have to do. A year, three years, five years later she's become a mother, a woman, through hour after hour of experience – and now she really is different, different from her husband, and different from the person she was.
"The expectation that the mother is primarily responsible for the children and family home disfigures our relationships," Asher writes. It might have been better if she had said it had disfigured her relationships, for true as it might be, put so generally it is hard to know exactly what kind of truth it is. Among other things it is the truth of hindsight, of after-knowledge: it is knowledge born of experience. The lesson here is not about motherhood so much perhaps as about womanhood, womanhood not as something granted – and removed, should the necessity arise – by the cultural conditions, but as something personally realised.
The modern woman arrives in motherhood like a shellshocked tourist without a guidebook in a foreign land, and Shattered rails against the brutality of the transfer, the injustice of the new conditions."
Why does a woman become angry when she has a baby? One answer is: because she has lost the power of autonomy and free will in her own life. From the first moment of her pregnancy, a woman finds herself subject to forces over which she has no control, not least those of the body itself. This subjection applies equally to the unknown and the known: she is her body's subject, her doctor's subject, her baby's subject, and in this biological work she has undertaken she becomes society's and history's subject too. But where she feels the subjection most is in the territories, whatever they are, that in her pre-maternal life she made her own. The threat to what made her herself, to what made her an individual: this is what the mother finds hardest to face down. Having been told all her life to value her individuality and pursue its aims, she encounters an outright contradiction, a betrayal – even among the very gatekeepers of her identity, her husband or colleagues or friends – in the requirement that she surrender it.
In fact, a woman is never more of an individual than in her response to the conformity of motherhood: it is her individuality, after all, that is being questioned. This is one of the things that makes the culture of motherhood so difficult to grapple with. Motherhood may look like a genre, but in reality it is an infinitesimal network of secret pacts and compromises, of private bargainings with the self. Beginning with pregnancy and birth, it is taxing in its solitude, as well as taxing of solitude; it takes away all the profit in being alone, and leaves mere loneliness. The new mother – and not just the new mother – is lonely, and yet never on her own.
Rebecca Asher is not wrong to see a general hazard in the adaptation of culturally equal, post-feminist woman to the time-honoured injustices of family life, but formulating a cri de coeur out of it is a delicate matter. Her own indignation has its genesis in the fact that after the birth of their son, the equality that she and her husband, both working professionals, believed they shared was proved to be artificial: with a newborn baby in the house, he was free to resume his old life and return to work, while she was not. Where, then, had this impression of equality come from? And who was responsible for its disappearance? Well, like many intelligent women of her age, no one ever told her that she wasn't equal: it was from outside that the impression came, from the attainments she was free to pursue, the liberties that were available to her, the achievements and jobs she was able to acquire. And no one ever told her husband that he was fettered by his biological destiny, that with the birth of his child his whole life would have to change. So while the old idea of woman had certainly been done away with, no one had thought to put anything in its place. The baby comes and everyone panics, looking for the woman who's going to take care of it, and like the doctor of philosophy summoned over the PA to attend a medical emergency, there's a case of mistaken identity. "Mother" and "woman" are at this stage still just words, but it's a crisis so she'll have to do. A year, three years, five years later she's become a mother, a woman, through hour after hour of experience – and now she really is different, different from her husband, and different from the person she was.
"The expectation that the mother is primarily responsible for the children and family home disfigures our relationships," Asher writes. It might have been better if she had said it had disfigured her relationships, for true as it might be, put so generally it is hard to know exactly what kind of truth it is. Among other things it is the truth of hindsight, of after-knowledge: it is knowledge born of experience. The lesson here is not about motherhood so much perhaps as about womanhood, womanhood not as something granted – and removed, should the necessity arise – by the cultural conditions, but as something personally realised.
The modern woman arrives in motherhood like a shellshocked tourist without a guidebook in a foreign land, and Shattered rails against the brutality of the transfer, the injustice of the new conditions."
Friday, July 29, 2011
Bullets
* It's hot again. *grumbles* I got spoiled by a week with AC and a pool, and I miss it. (yeah, yeah...I know...I *could* probably get a window unit, but then the kids would want to sleep in our room and the electrical in this house would blow so then not only would I be hot, I'd be crowded and PO'ed...so...no.)
* The Wacky Pirate Cruise was fun. Rain and I took the kids for the day and we ALL dressed up as pirates, earning the huzzah from the crew.
* I love rain storm sex. You'll just have to imagine the details cause the kids and the heat totally kill my inspiration to write it up.
* It took three weeks, but I managed to score a single night vacation house rental in Michigan so we can catch up with some wonderful old friends whom we haven't seen in 6+ years. (Crimeee, why do people put nightly rates if they aren't licensed for single night stays???)
* I still am annoyed by my PRESENTATION...not by the topic or the paper, but by my performance, which was subpar by MY (damnably high)standards. Meh. I will find time to work on the project at some point...
* The community is awesome! I really do appreciate the encouragement and support and love...even the insistence that I'm perhaps too hard on myself and demands I take time for ME. You are so very important to me! I don't often have the time to go writing on everyone's wall individually, but your messages and comments mean so, so much to me!!! Thank you...!
* The Wacky Pirate Cruise was fun. Rain and I took the kids for the day and we ALL dressed up as pirates, earning the huzzah from the crew.
* I love rain storm sex. You'll just have to imagine the details cause the kids and the heat totally kill my inspiration to write it up.
* It took three weeks, but I managed to score a single night vacation house rental in Michigan so we can catch up with some wonderful old friends whom we haven't seen in 6+ years. (Crimeee, why do people put nightly rates if they aren't licensed for single night stays???)
* I still am annoyed by my PRESENTATION...not by the topic or the paper, but by my performance, which was subpar by MY (damnably high)standards. Meh. I will find time to work on the project at some point...
* The community is awesome! I really do appreciate the encouragement and support and love...even the insistence that I'm perhaps too hard on myself and demands I take time for ME. You are so very important to me! I don't often have the time to go writing on everyone's wall individually, but your messages and comments mean so, so much to me!!! Thank you...!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Dizzying speeds
This summer is slipping past and I am barely comprehending all that is happening. A brief summary of the last three weeks:http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
July 9th, ShadoKnight and I explored the Exxxotica Expo for an afternoon. My conclusion is that it really is for "straight, vanilla" types who want to spend a weekend being "extremely risque". *laughs* I don't think I even blushed much, but I did enjoy bantering with some of the vendors.
July 14th, the heat descended. This is the first year I can remember that being without air conditioning became an actual problem. For some ridiculous reason, people still *chose* to hang out at our place, but it was becoming real struggle to get through the day. The fact that the heat continued through the night was the final straw. We couldn't do it. My aunt and uncle lent us their home while they have been out of the country, so we have been off routine for about a week.
July 16th, Rain came back from Philly for two weeks. *smiles* She is a real Mary Poppins! She just makes the most extraordinary things happen. At the same time, she has been ALWAYS here, ALWAYS present. Beloved and I have shared the king bed for the last week. Beloved mentioned/complained that he's "lost connection" with me, and I think it is more that we just haven't had alone time in the last three weeks.
July 16th I also went out with Rabbit for the first time in a year. I don't know what will come of that. I suspect I know what SHE hopes to come of that, I just don't know if I am comfortable moving beyond the flirty teasing and delve into a realm I have little experience.
July 20th was the final class for the Presenters Skill Building Series with Sarah Sloane. That also meant it was presentation day for me. I had asked Sir for a lifestyle topic he would like to see me present on, and he immediately came back with "finding self-worth through service". Serious? In a 15 minute time-slot? *wry smile* He always offers a challenge. I spent nearly four weeks researching and reading articles, and then a week agonizing over making the presentation. The day before, I finally got a first draft paper written, and I was pretty happy with it...but it was much, much more than 15 minutes! *sigh* I tried to reframe it, but there just wasn't enough undistracted time. End result, I flubbed Understanding Service: an in-depth exploration of the motivations for service in D/s lifestyles. The group was fairly gentle with their critique in my opinion, but when I saw Beloved's text about "you'll do great", I burst into tears. I *knew* I could have done better, I *knew* I should have had it all done earlier, I *knew* that this was spiraling out of 15-minutes from the beginning. *soft sigh* I haven't given up or tossed the idea. In fact, I have smoothed out a second draft...
July 22nd was Girl's second birthday. I had originally planned quite a gala at our house on July 24th, but the heatwave refused to let up! We ended up cancelling the festivities and hiding in the AC through a thunderstorm. Grumpduh and Aunt B came out for cake and ice cream, but it was very low-key. While everyone had a good time visiting quietly, I feel it is just another disappointment.
In response to a joke last month, I offered her a mock-collar, and I was surprised at the cynical reactions from Beloved. I removed the collar immediately. While making Girl's birthday cake, I was challenged to stop her from eating marshmallows...which I did by threatening a spanking. It was a joke, but she very deliberately defied the directive, forcing the issue. I gave her the spanking and played with the Dommy-headspace a little, but now Rain has also taken it into her head to call me "Miss Pixie"...a vanilla-friendly version of "Mistress". I don't know what to do about this.
This summer has been full of challenges, and none of them have been in my control. Our first camping trip failed when Beloved's mom died suddenly. Our second trip failed due to a hail storm that closed down the campground. The video Beloved made of me and Shado turned out very hot, but exposed emotional experiences that have led to uncomfortable feelings. My service presentation. My daughter's birthday. The complete upheaval of our daily routine. Rain. It's all culminating in time flying past and I am not sure about my footing...
July 9th, ShadoKnight and I explored the Exxxotica Expo for an afternoon. My conclusion is that it really is for "straight, vanilla" types who want to spend a weekend being "extremely risque". *laughs* I don't think I even blushed much, but I did enjoy bantering with some of the vendors.
July 14th, the heat descended. This is the first year I can remember that being without air conditioning became an actual problem. For some ridiculous reason, people still *chose* to hang out at our place, but it was becoming real struggle to get through the day. The fact that the heat continued through the night was the final straw. We couldn't do it. My aunt and uncle lent us their home while they have been out of the country, so we have been off routine for about a week.
July 16th, Rain came back from Philly for two weeks. *smiles* She is a real Mary Poppins! She just makes the most extraordinary things happen. At the same time, she has been ALWAYS here, ALWAYS present. Beloved and I have shared the king bed for the last week. Beloved mentioned/complained that he's "lost connection" with me, and I think it is more that we just haven't had alone time in the last three weeks.
July 16th I also went out with Rabbit for the first time in a year. I don't know what will come of that. I suspect I know what SHE hopes to come of that, I just don't know if I am comfortable moving beyond the flirty teasing and delve into a realm I have little experience.
July 20th was the final class for the Presenters Skill Building Series with Sarah Sloane. That also meant it was presentation day for me. I had asked Sir for a lifestyle topic he would like to see me present on, and he immediately came back with "finding self-worth through service". Serious? In a 15 minute time-slot? *wry smile* He always offers a challenge. I spent nearly four weeks researching and reading articles, and then a week agonizing over making the presentation. The day before, I finally got a first draft paper written, and I was pretty happy with it...but it was much, much more than 15 minutes! *sigh* I tried to reframe it, but there just wasn't enough undistracted time. End result, I flubbed Understanding Service: an in-depth exploration of the motivations for service in D/s lifestyles. The group was fairly gentle with their critique in my opinion, but when I saw Beloved's text about "you'll do great", I burst into tears. I *knew* I could have done better, I *knew* I should have had it all done earlier, I *knew* that this was spiraling out of 15-minutes from the beginning. *soft sigh* I haven't given up or tossed the idea. In fact, I have smoothed out a second draft...
July 22nd was Girl's second birthday. I had originally planned quite a gala at our house on July 24th, but the heatwave refused to let up! We ended up cancelling the festivities and hiding in the AC through a thunderstorm. Grumpduh and Aunt B came out for cake and ice cream, but it was very low-key. While everyone had a good time visiting quietly, I feel it is just another disappointment.
In response to a joke last month, I offered her a mock-collar, and I was surprised at the cynical reactions from Beloved. I removed the collar immediately. While making Girl's birthday cake, I was challenged to stop her from eating marshmallows...which I did by threatening a spanking. It was a joke, but she very deliberately defied the directive, forcing the issue. I gave her the spanking and played with the Dommy-headspace a little, but now Rain has also taken it into her head to call me "Miss Pixie"...a vanilla-friendly version of "Mistress". I don't know what to do about this.
This summer has been full of challenges, and none of them have been in my control. Our first camping trip failed when Beloved's mom died suddenly. Our second trip failed due to a hail storm that closed down the campground. The video Beloved made of me and Shado turned out very hot, but exposed emotional experiences that have led to uncomfortable feelings. My service presentation. My daughter's birthday. The complete upheaval of our daily routine. Rain. It's all culminating in time flying past and I am not sure about my footing...
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Pixies and Fairies
They are NOT the same thing.
The legend of the pixie (also piskies, pisgies, pigsies and west country fairies) is unique to Britain, particularly concentrated in the areas of Devon, Somerset and Cornwall in southern England, suggesting a Celtic origin for the belief and the name.
Some believe them to be the earliest inhabitants of England, drawing on possible relations to the Picts. One British scholar took pixie myth seriously enough to state his belief that “pixies were evidently a smaller race, and, from the greater obscurity of the...tales about them, I believe them to have been an earlier race.”
In Devon, pixies are said to be “invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man.” Others say they are no larger than a human hand but can change their size at will. In yet other legends and accounts they are presented as having near human stature.
They are fond of music and dancing. They dance in the shadows of the standing stones, or gambol on the edges of tumbling stream. Their bells can be heard deep in the heart of the many tors on the moor.
In Somerset, it is said that pixies and fairies are antagonists and fought a huge battle at Buckland St. Mary. The pixies were victorious and still visit the area. The fairies are said to have left after their loss.
Dartmoor tales include a passion for horses. Pixies steal horses or ponies at night, riding them across the moor for pleasure, twisting their manes to spur them on. The horses are back before dawn, leaving only the tangled ringlets in the manes as evidence.
Before the mid 19th Century pixies and fairies were taken seriously in much of Cornwall and Devon. Books devoted to the homely beliefs of the peasantry are filled with incidents of pixie manifestations.
In some areas, belief in pixies has endured into contemporary times. During the construction of Hinkley Point nuclear power station, anything that went wrong was blamed on "the Pixy," with the station being built near Wick's Barrow, an Iron Age burial mound called "Pixies Mound" by the locals.
Still, pixies' contact with "normal humans" is greatly diminished. One Cornish author by the name of Drew wrote, "The age of Pixies, like that of Chivalry, is gone. There is, perhaps, at present hardly a house they are reputed to visit. Even the fields and lanes which they formerly frequented seem to be nearly forsaken. Their music is rarely heard." If you know me, you can appreciate that sometimes I am hard to find.
Though pixies and faeries seem to have much in common, and are often viewed as interchangeable, they are two distinct species. Pixies enjoy a human origin and “partake of human nature”. They love humans, taking some for mates. Fairies, on the other hand, have origins traced to immaterial spirit forces.
Traditionally, pixies are nearly ageless and uncommonly beautiful, though there are some called "pixie" who have a distorted and strange appearance. In art they are often depicted wearing a green outfit and pointed hat. These are Victorian Era conventions and not part of the older mythology. In reality, pixies generally enjoy loose, flowing garments or go unclothed, though they are sensitive to human need for covering. They do have a weakness for bits of finery, and "pretty things" are highly prized by them.
The debate as to whether or not pixies have wings is again based on the confusion between pixies and fairies. Pixies don't have wings, although personally, I envy fairies for them!
Pixies are conscientious of their human counterparts and reward consideration and punish neglect. Some believe that pixies are natural spirits, generally benign and sometimes helpful to humans, such as helping needy widows and others with housework (which links them with other household elves such as brownies.) By their presence they bring blessings to those who are fond of them. Even within living memory, some rural families left small gifts, such as bowls of food or saucers of milk, for the pixies in order to placate them.
However, their curiosity and not-quite-mortal facets lead them to mischief. Some pixies are said to steal children. They are also known for being malicious tricksters who enjoy playing pranks on people if they feel such attentions have been earned. Sometimes pixies may confuse mortals so thoroughly that they never recover and wander aimlessly through the countryside singing or talking a mysterious language. This condition is known as being "pixie-led".
The term "pixie-led" has been transformed into the modern word pixilated, which has nothing to do with computer images at all but instead means: behaving as if mentally unbalanced, very eccentric, whimsical, prankish, bemused, intoxicated or drunk.
The legend of the pixie (also piskies, pisgies, pigsies and west country fairies) is unique to Britain, particularly concentrated in the areas of Devon, Somerset and Cornwall in southern England, suggesting a Celtic origin for the belief and the name.
Some believe them to be the earliest inhabitants of England, drawing on possible relations to the Picts. One British scholar took pixie myth seriously enough to state his belief that “pixies were evidently a smaller race, and, from the greater obscurity of the...tales about them, I believe them to have been an earlier race.”
In Devon, pixies are said to be “invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man.” Others say they are no larger than a human hand but can change their size at will. In yet other legends and accounts they are presented as having near human stature.
They are fond of music and dancing. They dance in the shadows of the standing stones, or gambol on the edges of tumbling stream. Their bells can be heard deep in the heart of the many tors on the moor.
In Somerset, it is said that pixies and fairies are antagonists and fought a huge battle at Buckland St. Mary. The pixies were victorious and still visit the area. The fairies are said to have left after their loss.
Dartmoor tales include a passion for horses. Pixies steal horses or ponies at night, riding them across the moor for pleasure, twisting their manes to spur them on. The horses are back before dawn, leaving only the tangled ringlets in the manes as evidence.
Before the mid 19th Century pixies and fairies were taken seriously in much of Cornwall and Devon. Books devoted to the homely beliefs of the peasantry are filled with incidents of pixie manifestations.
In some areas, belief in pixies has endured into contemporary times. During the construction of Hinkley Point nuclear power station, anything that went wrong was blamed on "the Pixy," with the station being built near Wick's Barrow, an Iron Age burial mound called "Pixies Mound" by the locals.
Still, pixies' contact with "normal humans" is greatly diminished. One Cornish author by the name of Drew wrote, "The age of Pixies, like that of Chivalry, is gone. There is, perhaps, at present hardly a house they are reputed to visit. Even the fields and lanes which they formerly frequented seem to be nearly forsaken. Their music is rarely heard." If you know me, you can appreciate that sometimes I am hard to find.
Though pixies and faeries seem to have much in common, and are often viewed as interchangeable, they are two distinct species. Pixies enjoy a human origin and “partake of human nature”. They love humans, taking some for mates. Fairies, on the other hand, have origins traced to immaterial spirit forces.
Traditionally, pixies are nearly ageless and uncommonly beautiful, though there are some called "pixie" who have a distorted and strange appearance. In art they are often depicted wearing a green outfit and pointed hat. These are Victorian Era conventions and not part of the older mythology. In reality, pixies generally enjoy loose, flowing garments or go unclothed, though they are sensitive to human need for covering. They do have a weakness for bits of finery, and "pretty things" are highly prized by them.
The debate as to whether or not pixies have wings is again based on the confusion between pixies and fairies. Pixies don't have wings, although personally, I envy fairies for them!
Pixies are conscientious of their human counterparts and reward consideration and punish neglect. Some believe that pixies are natural spirits, generally benign and sometimes helpful to humans, such as helping needy widows and others with housework (which links them with other household elves such as brownies.) By their presence they bring blessings to those who are fond of them. Even within living memory, some rural families left small gifts, such as bowls of food or saucers of milk, for the pixies in order to placate them.
However, their curiosity and not-quite-mortal facets lead them to mischief. Some pixies are said to steal children. They are also known for being malicious tricksters who enjoy playing pranks on people if they feel such attentions have been earned. Sometimes pixies may confuse mortals so thoroughly that they never recover and wander aimlessly through the countryside singing or talking a mysterious language. This condition is known as being "pixie-led".
The term "pixie-led" has been transformed into the modern word pixilated, which has nothing to do with computer images at all but instead means: behaving as if mentally unbalanced, very eccentric, whimsical, prankish, bemused, intoxicated or drunk.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
How was YOUR Fourth of July?
ShadoKnight's wife accepted an internship out in Washington State for the summer, so he is kind of at loose ends. Yesterday, he ended up joining us...kids, Beloved, and me...for dinner and fireworks
There was a bit of joking about how the rest of the night might proceed, but no promises. We went to the fireworks and used a ton of bug spray...we avoided the mosquitoes but everyone desperately needed a shower when we got home.
We got the kids to bed, Beloved went and showered first, and I decided 'fuck it' and went to the master bath to use the tub. Shado watched me strip, and then somewhat awkwardly hung out in the bedroom, talking to me, trying not to leer...*laughs*
Beloved came walking down the hall, buck naked (cause he doesn't have ANY reserves about nudity!) and told Shado that the shower was free, realized Shado was trying to watch me without watching me, and walked into the bathroom very deliberately to get Shado a towel, kinda like saying "Yeah, I know, and it's cool". Shado went off and showered, Beloved washed my hair and checked in..we were okay, so...
When Shado came back to the bedroom, Beloved suggested that we do a video for his collection...he has been building a collection of me giving BJs for a while now. There was some blushing and giggling, but we decided that would be a start... and a bit of frantic "pickup-n-shove-into-the-closet" and Shado was then sitting on the trunk at the end of the bed, kissing me...all three of us naked...Beloved using Shado's iPhone to record...
Shado and I necked for a minute or two before I knelt down and took his cock in my mouth...(he is rather large for me *shrug*) I got him all hot and bothered, panting, really making a tease show for the camera...
He finally grabbed my by the hair (totally *not* a Shado thing to do) and pulled me up, kissing me frantically, and then while I was off balance, shoved me onto the bed. Shado practically pounced me, a hand on a breast, the other pressing my thighs open as his tongue found my clit.
Beloved lasted maybe a minute of this before HE climbed on the bed and pushed his cock into my mouth. It was fucking HAWT!!! I tried to keep focus, but there was no way...Shado teased an orgasm from me, and I lost Beloved because of gasping, crying, panting
They both cuddled up to me, kissing me, petting me. Kind of like a eye of a hurricane, the break gave them the chance to check the damage. I was a little la-la, but we were all kinda joking...Beloved said something, and I play slapped him on the face.
You know when you can SEE the sadist come into your Owner's eyes? yeah... Beloved was all..."Oh, really?"
He grabbed my legs and swung them over his, made me count 5 swats...not HARD, but kind of showy...It kind of unnerved Shado to actually SEE it...he's been a friend for years and years, knows we play a bit in the BDSM realm, but has never seen it....ya know?
So Saul had come put to play...puts on a little bit more of a show...like I was peeking through my fingers, and he said something like, "Oh, I could show Shado another thing you like..." and pressed slightly on my hand, making it harder to breathe. My mild fight brought the suggestion of my new cuffs (bought 'em from Elegant as SJW this year). Little bits like that...all the while, Shado is playing the angel to Saul's devil...it was unnerving but fun.
Shado decided to break the mood and suckled my breast, commenting to Saul that I have awesome boobies, who cheerfully agreed and grabbed my other breast...Saul's hand slipped between my legs, teasing my clit, and the two of them started kissing down my ribs and sides...until I had one tongue on my clit and another fucking me...
I was...not coherent? *laughs* Beloved said that he's never seen me so wet so fast...It was just mind-blowing...Perhaps in part because I never in a million years even imagined such an experience. Beloved slid back up, whispering in my ear, telling me to cum for him...and I did...hard.
Then Shado was next to me too, petting me, and looking up at the two of them...both so loving and protective...It was breath-taking. I couldn't really put a sentance together anymore, but they decide Beloved was going to sleep on the couch and Shado in the bed with me...
They were getting cleaned up and I came back enough to find my jammies. Shado grabbed his computer and the guys tinkered with getting the video off the phone...There was some rational bit of my mind that registered my two lovers were sitting side-by-side, naked, watching a video of what we had just done....
*giggles and blushes*
Beloved then tucked me into bed, Shado curled up next to me and whispered how amazing I am and how awesome that was to share...it was about 2am at that point, and I just shut down...slept pretty well until about 6:45 when alarms started going off and the guys had to get to work...
There was a bit of joking about how the rest of the night might proceed, but no promises. We went to the fireworks and used a ton of bug spray...we avoided the mosquitoes but everyone desperately needed a shower when we got home.
We got the kids to bed, Beloved went and showered first, and I decided 'fuck it' and went to the master bath to use the tub. Shado watched me strip, and then somewhat awkwardly hung out in the bedroom, talking to me, trying not to leer...*laughs*
Beloved came walking down the hall, buck naked (cause he doesn't have ANY reserves about nudity!) and told Shado that the shower was free, realized Shado was trying to watch me without watching me, and walked into the bathroom very deliberately to get Shado a towel, kinda like saying "Yeah, I know, and it's cool". Shado went off and showered, Beloved washed my hair and checked in..we were okay, so...
When Shado came back to the bedroom, Beloved suggested that we do a video for his collection...he has been building a collection of me giving BJs for a while now. There was some blushing and giggling, but we decided that would be a start... and a bit of frantic "pickup-n-shove-into-the-closet" and Shado was then sitting on the trunk at the end of the bed, kissing me...all three of us naked...Beloved using Shado's iPhone to record...
Shado and I necked for a minute or two before I knelt down and took his cock in my mouth...(he is rather large for me *shrug*) I got him all hot and bothered, panting, really making a tease show for the camera...
He finally grabbed my by the hair (totally *not* a Shado thing to do) and pulled me up, kissing me frantically, and then while I was off balance, shoved me onto the bed. Shado practically pounced me, a hand on a breast, the other pressing my thighs open as his tongue found my clit.
Beloved lasted maybe a minute of this before HE climbed on the bed and pushed his cock into my mouth. It was fucking HAWT!!! I tried to keep focus, but there was no way...Shado teased an orgasm from me, and I lost Beloved because of gasping, crying, panting
They both cuddled up to me, kissing me, petting me. Kind of like a eye of a hurricane, the break gave them the chance to check the damage. I was a little la-la, but we were all kinda joking...Beloved said something, and I play slapped him on the face.
You know when you can SEE the sadist come into your Owner's eyes? yeah... Beloved was all..."Oh, really?"
He grabbed my legs and swung them over his, made me count 5 swats...not HARD, but kind of showy...It kind of unnerved Shado to actually SEE it...he's been a friend for years and years, knows we play a bit in the BDSM realm, but has never seen it....ya know?
So Saul had come put to play...puts on a little bit more of a show...like I was peeking through my fingers, and he said something like, "Oh, I could show Shado another thing you like..." and pressed slightly on my hand, making it harder to breathe. My mild fight brought the suggestion of my new cuffs (bought 'em from Elegant as SJW this year). Little bits like that...all the while, Shado is playing the angel to Saul's devil...it was unnerving but fun.
Shado decided to break the mood and suckled my breast, commenting to Saul that I have awesome boobies, who cheerfully agreed and grabbed my other breast...Saul's hand slipped between my legs, teasing my clit, and the two of them started kissing down my ribs and sides...until I had one tongue on my clit and another fucking me...
I was...not coherent? *laughs* Beloved said that he's never seen me so wet so fast...It was just mind-blowing...Perhaps in part because I never in a million years even imagined such an experience. Beloved slid back up, whispering in my ear, telling me to cum for him...and I did...hard.
Then Shado was next to me too, petting me, and looking up at the two of them...both so loving and protective...It was breath-taking. I couldn't really put a sentance together anymore, but they decide Beloved was going to sleep on the couch and Shado in the bed with me...
They were getting cleaned up and I came back enough to find my jammies. Shado grabbed his computer and the guys tinkered with getting the video off the phone...There was some rational bit of my mind that registered my two lovers were sitting side-by-side, naked, watching a video of what we had just done....
*giggles and blushes*
Beloved then tucked me into bed, Shado curled up next to me and whispered how amazing I am and how awesome that was to share...it was about 2am at that point, and I just shut down...slept pretty well until about 6:45 when alarms started going off and the guys had to get to work...
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Moontimes stink
Yup, I have to share...rant...complain...about still having a menstrual cycle. I mean, seriously, I've done my thing and reproduced. Can't I be done with the friggin' moontimes, too?
I dunno. It's not like I hide the fact that I bleed monthly. I complain about it here often enough. The kids know about it (That's not exactly by choice, but there is an awkward dilemma about closing the bathroom door on two VERY smart, VERY curious kids or having them waltz into the bathroom to find me dealing with my body's functions. Boy has asked about the blood and I've explained that it means I'm not going to have another baby, which mostly satisfies him; he likes Girl, but she's still too little be really be fun). I use a Keeper, so I have TMI about what exactly I am losing every month. *shrug* That doesn't bother me. Much.
But mix moontime and sex, and I get a little squirrely. I've had talks with some of my lovers, and they don't have a problem with my cycle. No, it's not a hot fetish thing, but it doesn't *matter* either. It really is just me fretting. I get too embarrassed to enjoy the sex, and that is on top of my usual quirks. So...yeah. Moontimes stink.
I dunno. It's not like I hide the fact that I bleed monthly. I complain about it here often enough. The kids know about it (That's not exactly by choice, but there is an awkward dilemma about closing the bathroom door on two VERY smart, VERY curious kids or having them waltz into the bathroom to find me dealing with my body's functions. Boy has asked about the blood and I've explained that it means I'm not going to have another baby, which mostly satisfies him; he likes Girl, but she's still too little be really be fun). I use a Keeper, so I have TMI about what exactly I am losing every month. *shrug* That doesn't bother me. Much.
But mix moontime and sex, and I get a little squirrely. I've had talks with some of my lovers, and they don't have a problem with my cycle. No, it's not a hot fetish thing, but it doesn't *matter* either. It really is just me fretting. I get too embarrassed to enjoy the sex, and that is on top of my usual quirks. So...yeah. Moontimes stink.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Another day
I haven't been sleeping much. Up until 1 or 2 in the morning, and then struggling regain some semblance of consciousness by 7:30am. My body is betraying my needs, but my mind is restless and weary.
I wander from room to room, moving piles, but not really making progress. Bags of non-perishables from her apartment remain on the kitchen floor where they were put two weeks ago. My plants are wilting, dying, and still I can't bring myself into enough FOCUS to water them. My daughter managed to escape the house while I was in the bathroom and was found around the block and was returned by a kind neighbor. I am not functioning. It scares me.
Is this grief? It feels so empty. Maybe I am in denial about how much she meant. Or maybe the loss of his mother rewakened the aches of the loss of my mother. Or maybe I am just losing it. Can you lose marbles if you never had them?
Beloved fell asleep lying on my arm, our breath intermixed, our closeness somehow more intimate than anything you can imagine. I wanted to stay there forever. So why did I wake him? Why did I get up and come downstairs under the pretense of picking up and creating peace when instead I am wandering, lost and falling to pieces?
Driving home from the zoo today...yesterday..., we past a cemetery. Boy wanted to go in to look at "the beautiful stones." I'm struck both by his innocence and his sudden fascination with death. He wants me to take him to my mother's stone. Why am I reluctant? Why am I scared?
I should go upstairs, curl into Beloved's arms, let sleep cover me, renew me. If only I could shake the sense of impending chaos. It's lessened now that the storm has blown past, but I still dread sunrise...
Another day.
I wander from room to room, moving piles, but not really making progress. Bags of non-perishables from her apartment remain on the kitchen floor where they were put two weeks ago. My plants are wilting, dying, and still I can't bring myself into enough FOCUS to water them. My daughter managed to escape the house while I was in the bathroom and was found around the block and was returned by a kind neighbor. I am not functioning. It scares me.
Is this grief? It feels so empty. Maybe I am in denial about how much she meant. Or maybe the loss of his mother rewakened the aches of the loss of my mother. Or maybe I am just losing it. Can you lose marbles if you never had them?
Beloved fell asleep lying on my arm, our breath intermixed, our closeness somehow more intimate than anything you can imagine. I wanted to stay there forever. So why did I wake him? Why did I get up and come downstairs under the pretense of picking up and creating peace when instead I am wandering, lost and falling to pieces?
Driving home from the zoo today...yesterday..., we past a cemetery. Boy wanted to go in to look at "the beautiful stones." I'm struck both by his innocence and his sudden fascination with death. He wants me to take him to my mother's stone. Why am I reluctant? Why am I scared?
I should go upstairs, curl into Beloved's arms, let sleep cover me, renew me. If only I could shake the sense of impending chaos. It's lessened now that the storm has blown past, but I still dread sunrise...
Another day.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
GAH!!!! Ewwww!!! Gross!!!
I don't squick easily. Honest! But some times, things just are gross, and guess what?! I'm gunna share my pain with you! :D
Tuesday night is trash night. I finally got the kids down and cleared the fridge of week-old leftovers and got the recycling together. I grabbed the last bag to go out, walked out the front door, around the side of the house, reached for the handle of the garbage can...
And stopped cold.
Everything...the can, the trash in the can, the ground...EVERYTHING is covered in maggots. I have never seen such a mass! It was just...eeeewww!!!
I went back in the house and got some latex gloves (thank goodness for the lifestyle! hahaha!), tucked up my skirts, and dutifully dragged the cans out to the curb. I am not quite sure if I can convey the mixed feelings I had when I saw the neighbors' cans were also coated in maggots...more squicky yuck but a definite sense of relief that it wasn't JUST my household that had them.
I'm torn between just trying to ignore them...after all, maggots mature and become flies and fly away...or pulling out something to spray the area with. Boiling water or insecticide or something. The problem is the plants I've worked so hard to establish are on the other side of the picket fence. *sigh*
So...I will probably just leave well enough alone. Although I think the need for screen-repair just got highlighted on the priority list!
Tuesday night is trash night. I finally got the kids down and cleared the fridge of week-old leftovers and got the recycling together. I grabbed the last bag to go out, walked out the front door, around the side of the house, reached for the handle of the garbage can...
And stopped cold.
Everything...the can, the trash in the can, the ground...EVERYTHING is covered in maggots. I have never seen such a mass! It was just...eeeewww!!!
I went back in the house and got some latex gloves (thank goodness for the lifestyle! hahaha!), tucked up my skirts, and dutifully dragged the cans out to the curb. I am not quite sure if I can convey the mixed feelings I had when I saw the neighbors' cans were also coated in maggots...more squicky yuck but a definite sense of relief that it wasn't JUST my household that had them.
I'm torn between just trying to ignore them...after all, maggots mature and become flies and fly away...or pulling out something to spray the area with. Boiling water or insecticide or something. The problem is the plants I've worked so hard to establish are on the other side of the picket fence. *sigh*
So...I will probably just leave well enough alone. Although I think the need for screen-repair just got highlighted on the priority list!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
A woman is like a tea bag
A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt
*soft smile* I have liked this quote for years, and I believe there is much truth to it. We will rise to the occasion if the need is real. However, there is another bit of truth to this saying. Like tea that is seeped too long and the tannin causes a bitter taste, a body needs to be careful not to become embittered by the challenges.
I am aware of this. I am trying to be careful of it. The family needs will continue to run very high through this weekend as we undertake the task of the apartment. Unfortunately, it must be faced immediately as RedVulpes and Beloved both have rigid work requirements to navigate.
I believe I can carry them through it, with the help of some close friends and family...rest assured I am not taking it on by myself!...but I am rather "planning" to fall apart in a week; to be selfish and needy and demanding for my heart and loss. I am blessed with the net of friends waiting in the wings for that necessary release...I promise to call on you when I am ready.
*soft smile* I have liked this quote for years, and I believe there is much truth to it. We will rise to the occasion if the need is real. However, there is another bit of truth to this saying. Like tea that is seeped too long and the tannin causes a bitter taste, a body needs to be careful not to become embittered by the challenges.
I am aware of this. I am trying to be careful of it. The family needs will continue to run very high through this weekend as we undertake the task of the apartment. Unfortunately, it must be faced immediately as RedVulpes and Beloved both have rigid work requirements to navigate.
I believe I can carry them through it, with the help of some close friends and family...rest assured I am not taking it on by myself!...but I am rather "planning" to fall apart in a week; to be selfish and needy and demanding for my heart and loss. I am blessed with the net of friends waiting in the wings for that necessary release...I promise to call on you when I am ready.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Tomorrow is not a promise
The sun will come up tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar there'll be sun...
We spend so much of our lives waiting for tomorrow, next week, next year. I'll get to it when there's more.... I'll take care of that after.... It's great to hear from you, but I have to run.....
But tomorrow is not a promise. There is no guarantee that there will be a next time, next week, next year. Some times, that reality comes at you from out of the blue, and it is enough to take your breath away.
We strive for a balance. Plan to go to school, to have a baby, to go on vacation, to retire. Plan for tomorrow with the faith that the sun will come up and the world will continue to exist.
But LIVE for today. Live in this moment, live in joy and heartache, live in relief and the hope. Live today, because tomorrow is not a promise.
We spend so much of our lives waiting for tomorrow, next week, next year. I'll get to it when there's more.... I'll take care of that after.... It's great to hear from you, but I have to run.....
But tomorrow is not a promise. There is no guarantee that there will be a next time, next week, next year. Some times, that reality comes at you from out of the blue, and it is enough to take your breath away.
We strive for a balance. Plan to go to school, to have a baby, to go on vacation, to retire. Plan for tomorrow with the faith that the sun will come up and the world will continue to exist.
But LIVE for today. Live in this moment, live in joy and heartache, live in relief and the hope. Live today, because tomorrow is not a promise.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Damn it...I'm TIRED!
I'm tired, damn it. I just want to slip into the oblivion of sleep.
Having no real success in the job market, I have been considering school. The one I settled on costs $20K and is one year. I don't *have* $20K, let alone money for childcare for a year of study. Yes, there's financial aid, but to be perfectly honest, Beloved's salary is in the doughnut hole...too little to pay outright, too much to qualify...
So, I signed up for a class at the community college. One about "career exploration strategies." Not knowing *what* career I'd actually enjoy, it sounded useful. I got a call the day before class was to start...that the class was canceled due to low enrollment. This has happened to me five or six times since I've tried taking classes in the Aurora area. I wonder what that says about my interests verse the rest of the community's. I wonder if that's the Universe's way of telling me to have patience...that my role of "suburban mom" isn't to be abandoned yet...
Since class is canceled, I have an unexpected free couple of hours. I *should* have just planned on my own time. However, I ended up chatting in the wee hours and was invited to lunch, but now I have to explain that I didn't sleep, I would be a true hazard if I drove and therefore I won't make lunch and I'm so sorry cause I know you won't be back in town until January...
Which led to my peering at the mountain of laundry and wondering if I should go take a shower and then start a load...or start a load in the hopes of going to SLEEP and grabbing a shower in the morning in the hopes that coffee will keep me awake enough to manage the drive...and I could probably squeeze two to three loads of laundry in during the day, even if I DID go for lunch...
But I was told specifically *by this friend* that I should manage my expectations better, and isn't expecting to be able to do the laundry, drop the kids, get to lunch, enjoy lunch, pick up the kids, and then have company for dinner just a *little* crazy if I have had no sleep?
And isn't that rather a negative ESFP shadow kind of thing to do? *"acting very impulsively, perhaps starting off more projects than the INTJ could hope to accomplish"*? HA!
Now I'm wondering what extreme stress, fatigue or illness I might be facing. I admit that in my childish happiness I disappointed someone important to me. And there's the gnat. And it's been really hot, so maybe heat stress counts? Or could it just be the drain of always being ON? Why did I agree to have company for dinner tonight...well, I didn't...they asked if we were available and I said yes. That means I won't have tomorrow evening free, so should I close the computer and do the laundry...but the shower sounds really good...but maybe I should e-mail the school and see if I can get Boy enrolled in summer camp after all because I just don't have the energy and inspiration to keep him active all summer and if I'm not taking that afternoon class I really *should* tell the sitter I don't need those hours but I could see if the Spanish class was still open because learning Spanish might help in that job search and if I had a job I might not get myself so overextended by helping others, but isn't that one of the reasons I'm interested in mortuary sciences...to help others in times of chaos and loss? And I really *should* go up into the attic now, while it is cool(er), and see what baby boy clothes I have to offer to another friend in need and I wonder what ShadoKnight did with his daughter's 5T cast-offs and I need to remember to call him about the camping trip this weekend...
Damn it...I'm TIRED! Please...please, can I have the oblivion of sleep???
Having no real success in the job market, I have been considering school. The one I settled on costs $20K and is one year. I don't *have* $20K, let alone money for childcare for a year of study. Yes, there's financial aid, but to be perfectly honest, Beloved's salary is in the doughnut hole...too little to pay outright, too much to qualify...
So, I signed up for a class at the community college. One about "career exploration strategies." Not knowing *what* career I'd actually enjoy, it sounded useful. I got a call the day before class was to start...that the class was canceled due to low enrollment. This has happened to me five or six times since I've tried taking classes in the Aurora area. I wonder what that says about my interests verse the rest of the community's. I wonder if that's the Universe's way of telling me to have patience...that my role of "suburban mom" isn't to be abandoned yet...
Since class is canceled, I have an unexpected free couple of hours. I *should* have just planned on my own time. However, I ended up chatting in the wee hours and was invited to lunch, but now I have to explain that I didn't sleep, I would be a true hazard if I drove and therefore I won't make lunch and I'm so sorry cause I know you won't be back in town until January...
Which led to my peering at the mountain of laundry and wondering if I should go take a shower and then start a load...or start a load in the hopes of going to SLEEP and grabbing a shower in the morning in the hopes that coffee will keep me awake enough to manage the drive...and I could probably squeeze two to three loads of laundry in during the day, even if I DID go for lunch...
But I was told specifically *by this friend* that I should manage my expectations better, and isn't expecting to be able to do the laundry, drop the kids, get to lunch, enjoy lunch, pick up the kids, and then have company for dinner just a *little* crazy if I have had no sleep?
And isn't that rather a negative ESFP shadow kind of thing to do? *"acting very impulsively, perhaps starting off more projects than the INTJ could hope to accomplish"*? HA!
Now I'm wondering what extreme stress, fatigue or illness I might be facing. I admit that in my childish happiness I disappointed someone important to me. And there's the gnat. And it's been really hot, so maybe heat stress counts? Or could it just be the drain of always being ON? Why did I agree to have company for dinner tonight...well, I didn't...they asked if we were available and I said yes. That means I won't have tomorrow evening free, so should I close the computer and do the laundry...but the shower sounds really good...but maybe I should e-mail the school and see if I can get Boy enrolled in summer camp after all because I just don't have the energy and inspiration to keep him active all summer and if I'm not taking that afternoon class I really *should* tell the sitter I don't need those hours but I could see if the Spanish class was still open because learning Spanish might help in that job search and if I had a job I might not get myself so overextended by helping others, but isn't that one of the reasons I'm interested in mortuary sciences...to help others in times of chaos and loss? And I really *should* go up into the attic now, while it is cool(er), and see what baby boy clothes I have to offer to another friend in need and I wonder what ShadoKnight did with his daughter's 5T cast-offs and I need to remember to call him about the camping trip this weekend...
Damn it...I'm TIRED! Please...please, can I have the oblivion of sleep???
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Complications of my mind
More than two years ago, Chef_Lecter asked if I was looking to re-experience my rape...if that was a part of what I was looking for. The question was horrific to me. I vehemently denied any part of that fantasy. Yet, the question has lingered in the back of my mind all of this time.
Last night, a chat with ShadoKnight reminded me that I *strive* for the vixen slut...The persona of Pixie is carnal and base. I am the one that drives men wild, satisfies and sates fantasies, enslaves their desire and leaves them wanting more. I am a drug. I inspire possession. I crave it.
I want men to get turned on when they walk by me, to have to turn away and adjust their crotches. I want women to cream their panties at the touch of my skin, the smell of my hair. I want to be the object of desire, up on a pedestal, a truly magical mixture of femininity, nobility, sophistication,...and then I want to be dragged off that pedestal and ravished.
But I don't actually want the sex. I don't want to give up MY pleasure...it isn't about me...it's about YOU....YOUR pleasure and base desire. I *want* you to lose control and *take* me. But...rape is horrific. I don't want that...Do I???
My childhood heroes were Robin Hood and King Arthur. I used to imagine making over the world...convincing the Vatican to ordain me, curing cancer, achieving political stature Camelot-style.
Instead, I find myself a stay-at-home mom in suburbia. If there is any area where I can hope that there is something that sets me apart, that makes me a little bit more than I perceive myself to be, it is in my submissive nature. The dark fantasies, some which I have shared here...the thrill of Beloved's hand cutting off air...Chef_Lecter's undoubtable statement that if I didn't submit, I would be raped.
And that scares me. As a woman, something of a feminist and a good liberal, I should be disturbed to find myself admitted a desire to be objectified, that this is allowing myself to be co-opted into my rapists' victim.
I was nine. I didn't have the knowledge OR the subtle skills of the submissive geisha. That wasn't want those boys wanted from me. In fact, I doubt they wanted ME at all. I was just some hapless victim. They wanted...and took...all of the control, power, and pleasure. They stole that from me...and at some core level, taught me to *want* that.
I find myself tangled up in the emotional aftermath. I envy women I know who orgasm without a care. I cannot imagine what that is like, and I actively sabotage my lovers' attempts to draw me there.
Without restraints, without force, without that exchange, receiving is challenging. It isn't dramatic...except when I am surprised by a forced orgasm that triggers all sorts of revolutions and fears. But I'm supposed to *want* that orgasm...so do I want all that baggage too?
Back in the 90s, the preview of The General's Daughter had a quote that I've remembered because it cut so close to home: What's worse than rape?
For years, I have been struggling with the dichotomy of desire and fear. I think I have arrived at an honest answer.
I do not want to relive my childhood experience.
I want to inspire what was lacking when I was nine years old. I want something with my lover that is powerful and demanding and fulfilling. I want to be something so far above "hapless victim" that my lover cannot dream of anything better than me. I want them to know ME in entirety. To forgive me for being insecure. To terrorize me. To permit me to surrender my fear to them, that I might reclaim control and power and pleasure that is rightfully mine.
Last night, a chat with ShadoKnight reminded me that I *strive* for the vixen slut...The persona of Pixie is carnal and base. I am the one that drives men wild, satisfies and sates fantasies, enslaves their desire and leaves them wanting more. I am a drug. I inspire possession. I crave it.
I want men to get turned on when they walk by me, to have to turn away and adjust their crotches. I want women to cream their panties at the touch of my skin, the smell of my hair. I want to be the object of desire, up on a pedestal, a truly magical mixture of femininity, nobility, sophistication,...and then I want to be dragged off that pedestal and ravished.
But I don't actually want the sex. I don't want to give up MY pleasure...it isn't about me...it's about YOU....YOUR pleasure and base desire. I *want* you to lose control and *take* me. But...rape is horrific. I don't want that...Do I???
My childhood heroes were Robin Hood and King Arthur. I used to imagine making over the world...convincing the Vatican to ordain me, curing cancer, achieving political stature Camelot-style.
Instead, I find myself a stay-at-home mom in suburbia. If there is any area where I can hope that there is something that sets me apart, that makes me a little bit more than I perceive myself to be, it is in my submissive nature. The dark fantasies, some which I have shared here...the thrill of Beloved's hand cutting off air...Chef_Lecter's undoubtable statement that if I didn't submit, I would be raped.
And that scares me. As a woman, something of a feminist and a good liberal, I should be disturbed to find myself admitted a desire to be objectified, that this is allowing myself to be co-opted into my rapists' victim.
I was nine. I didn't have the knowledge OR the subtle skills of the submissive geisha. That wasn't want those boys wanted from me. In fact, I doubt they wanted ME at all. I was just some hapless victim. They wanted...and took...all of the control, power, and pleasure. They stole that from me...and at some core level, taught me to *want* that.
I find myself tangled up in the emotional aftermath. I envy women I know who orgasm without a care. I cannot imagine what that is like, and I actively sabotage my lovers' attempts to draw me there.
Without restraints, without force, without that exchange, receiving is challenging. It isn't dramatic...except when I am surprised by a forced orgasm that triggers all sorts of revolutions and fears. But I'm supposed to *want* that orgasm...so do I want all that baggage too?
Back in the 90s, the preview of The General's Daughter had a quote that I've remembered because it cut so close to home: What's worse than rape?
For years, I have been struggling with the dichotomy of desire and fear. I think I have arrived at an honest answer.
I do not want to relive my childhood experience.
I want to inspire what was lacking when I was nine years old. I want something with my lover that is powerful and demanding and fulfilling. I want to be something so far above "hapless victim" that my lover cannot dream of anything better than me. I want them to know ME in entirety. To forgive me for being insecure. To terrorize me. To permit me to surrender my fear to them, that I might reclaim control and power and pleasure that is rightfully mine.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Every Day...Amazing
Day 30 - May 30
I made it though the 30-Day challenge! “everyday for 30 days… write something kind about yourself.. something that you like about yourself… that has nothing to do with your outer shell.”
My thirty days are posted, beginning on May 1, but my summary is that I am amazing!
I am a gardener, a lover, an accountant. I am real and I am magical. I am a servant and a cook. I am a mother. I am strong and considerate, thrifty and organized. I have weaknesses and I am educated. I am beautiful, open-minded and clever. I loyal and I am blessed. I can make it through miserable days. I create connections and negotiate compromises. I am charismatic, empathetic, and a leader. I am 35 years old and crowing about the fact. I am patient and determined. I am a partner. **I AM AMAZING!**
I made it though the 30-Day challenge! “everyday for 30 days… write something kind about yourself.. something that you like about yourself… that has nothing to do with your outer shell.”
My thirty days are posted, beginning on May 1, but my summary is that I am amazing!
I am a gardener, a lover, an accountant. I am real and I am magical. I am a servant and a cook. I am a mother. I am strong and considerate, thrifty and organized. I have weaknesses and I am educated. I am beautiful, open-minded and clever. I loyal and I am blessed. I can make it through miserable days. I create connections and negotiate compromises. I am charismatic, empathetic, and a leader. I am 35 years old and crowing about the fact. I am patient and determined. I am a partner. **I AM AMAZING!**
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Every Day...Partner
Day 29 - May 29
For my birthday, Rain and AM gave me a card that read:
"You're not exactly high maintenance. Most of the time, it's not that much about you."
The thing is, I don't want it to be ALL about others, either. I am definitely aware that I need and deserve recognition for my efforts and contributions. In that way, I am a partner.
I share what I have, and as Jethro says, “When all you’ve got is nothing, there’s a lot to go around.” I think that is part of the gift of polyamory in my life. I am partnered with many people in many ways, and we all share what we have...time, energy, support, expertise, love.
*soft smile* I hope that you know I give as good as I get, and vice versa. That is what it means to be my partner.
For my birthday, Rain and AM gave me a card that read:
The thing is, I don't want it to be ALL about others, either. I am definitely aware that I need and deserve recognition for my efforts and contributions. In that way, I am a partner.
I share what I have, and as Jethro says, “When all you’ve got is nothing, there’s a lot to go around.” I think that is part of the gift of polyamory in my life. I am partnered with many people in many ways, and we all share what we have...time, energy, support, expertise, love.
*soft smile* I hope that you know I give as good as I get, and vice versa. That is what it means to be my partner.
Every Day...Determined
Day 28 - May 28
I am determined. *wry smile* I am GOING to get through these thirty days! hahaha.
There are things that I have given up on, but the ones that really click, that are really important, that become a defining factor of who I am...those I am determined to see to the end. This 30-Day exercise is a part of that, joking aside, because it's important for ME to remember my values and good points.
Yesterday, Beloved agreed to watching the kids so I could get the summer wardrobes exchanged. It happened to be the hottest day of the year (so far) and by the time I'd finished Boy's, Girl's, and Beloved's clothes, I was drenched in sweat and tired of the attic. Beloved nudged me on, and not only did I get though my own clothes, but I also sorted two wardrobe boxes that I haven't gone through since Boy was born! I was determined to knock that out, once I started. It felt sooooo good to actually eliminate a whole box!
I'm also determined to celebrate: holidays, birthdays, friendships. Sometimes, I put it out that "Hey, it would be cool to do ABC!" and someone will pick it up and run with it. Sometimes, I get feedback that "Yeah, it would be cool..." and I make it happen. Almost every year, I get an agast reaction to my baking my own birthday cake. *laughs* I don't mind...as long as I have friends who are willing to EAT it with me! And if it takes baking a cake to coerce people into the house to sing that silly birthday song, it's a small price to pay! *wink* Same with stockings or baskets or fireworks or camping trips. If you build it, they will come. At least, if I am determined enough to make it happen!
I am determined. *wry smile* I am GOING to get through these thirty days! hahaha.
There are things that I have given up on, but the ones that really click, that are really important, that become a defining factor of who I am...those I am determined to see to the end. This 30-Day exercise is a part of that, joking aside, because it's important for ME to remember my values and good points.
Yesterday, Beloved agreed to watching the kids so I could get the summer wardrobes exchanged. It happened to be the hottest day of the year (so far) and by the time I'd finished Boy's, Girl's, and Beloved's clothes, I was drenched in sweat and tired of the attic. Beloved nudged me on, and not only did I get though my own clothes, but I also sorted two wardrobe boxes that I haven't gone through since Boy was born! I was determined to knock that out, once I started. It felt sooooo good to actually eliminate a whole box!
I'm also determined to celebrate: holidays, birthdays, friendships. Sometimes, I put it out that "Hey, it would be cool to do ABC!" and someone will pick it up and run with it. Sometimes, I get feedback that "Yeah, it would be cool..." and I make it happen. Almost every year, I get an agast reaction to my baking my own birthday cake. *laughs* I don't mind...as long as I have friends who are willing to EAT it with me! And if it takes baking a cake to coerce people into the house to sing that silly birthday song, it's a small price to pay! *wink* Same with stockings or baskets or fireworks or camping trips. If you build it, they will come. At least, if I am determined enough to make it happen!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Every Day...Patience
Day 27 - May 27
I am learning patience. This is a virtue I was definitely NOT born with, but I am picking it up a little at a time. Patience with reading "Whhhooo's That?" for the millionth time. Patience in reading my own books a paragraph at a time. Patience with getting bare-root plants and nurturing them for a couple of years into garden beauties. Patience with gradually improving the quality of things.
I am so guilty of the perfectionist trap...that if it can't be spectacular NOW, then I can't do it. There are plenty of areas that I still have to work on this. :-S That is okay. I vaguely remember a small cross-stitch sampler in my bedroom when I was just a kid...
Please have patience with me...God isn't finished yet!
I used to think that was a reminder for Mom and Dad. Now, I think it might be a more important reminder for me. I need to have patience with MYSELF...I am still learning.
I am learning patience. This is a virtue I was definitely NOT born with, but I am picking it up a little at a time. Patience with reading "Whhhooo's That?" for the millionth time. Patience in reading my own books a paragraph at a time. Patience with getting bare-root plants and nurturing them for a couple of years into garden beauties. Patience with gradually improving the quality of things.
I am so guilty of the perfectionist trap...that if it can't be spectacular NOW, then I can't do it. There are plenty of areas that I still have to work on this. :-S That is okay. I vaguely remember a small cross-stitch sampler in my bedroom when I was just a kid...
I used to think that was a reminder for Mom and Dad. Now, I think it might be a more important reminder for me. I need to have patience with MYSELF...I am still learning.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Every Day...35
Day 26 - May 26
I am 35. Today is my birthday, and I have never felt the need to fudge or hide my age. More candles on the cake means more light in my life. Since it's MY day, I can and will claim the right to make my own birthday day, or make an outrageous request (like the homemade cherry amaretto cake with white chocolate frosting...Beloved is amazingly patient with me!). I'll plan my own party, not because I don't have to do it, but because I LIKE planning parties.
So, yeah. I'm thirty-five and have nothing to hide. It's a good day.
I am 35. Today is my birthday, and I have never felt the need to fudge or hide my age. More candles on the cake means more light in my life. Since it's MY day, I can and will claim the right to make my own birthday day, or make an outrageous request (like the homemade cherry amaretto cake with white chocolate frosting...Beloved is amazingly patient with me!). I'll plan my own party, not because I don't have to do it, but because I LIKE planning parties.
So, yeah. I'm thirty-five and have nothing to hide. It's a good day.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Every Day...Leader
Day 25 - May 25
"leadership is the ability to successfully integrate and maximize available resources within the internal and external environment for the attainment of organizational or societal goals." ~ Ken Ogbonnia
"Submissive leadership requires a kind and gentle honesty that will attend to others' needs and win their love and loyalty." ~D. De Haan
I am a leader. While I offer my services to others, I frequently am the one who takes the actual initiative action. Deciding the plan, choosing the date, making the reservation, assigning the necessary tasks. The last piece is the most important...being able to delegate is something I've learned the hard way.
It isn't always comfortable. There are times when I'd much rather bury my brain and "just" scrub dishes or follow the list. But when you are placed "in charge"...be it of children, team members, or a business...you have to provide parameters for others. I see it as a service, because I relieve others of the responsibility of planning. They can give me yes/no answers to choices I present, but I am still providing leadership through defining what the choices are. Leadership is a part of my service.
"leadership is the ability to successfully integrate and maximize available resources within the internal and external environment for the attainment of organizational or societal goals." ~ Ken Ogbonnia
"Submissive leadership requires a kind and gentle honesty that will attend to others' needs and win their love and loyalty." ~D. De Haan
I am a leader. While I offer my services to others, I frequently am the one who takes the actual initiative action. Deciding the plan, choosing the date, making the reservation, assigning the necessary tasks. The last piece is the most important...being able to delegate is something I've learned the hard way.
It isn't always comfortable. There are times when I'd much rather bury my brain and "just" scrub dishes or follow the list. But when you are placed "in charge"...be it of children, team members, or a business...you have to provide parameters for others. I see it as a service, because I relieve others of the responsibility of planning. They can give me yes/no answers to choices I present, but I am still providing leadership through defining what the choices are. Leadership is a part of my service.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Every Day...Empathetic
Day 24 - May 24
This is a hard one, because it's not exactly socially acceptable.
Beloved's grandmother is dying. She is old and in the haze of dementia and recently fell and broke her tailbone. She's stopped eating and drinking in favor of sleep and pain meds. Basically, she no longer wants to be in this life. Understandably, it is a hard time for the family.
Socially, I should say something like, "This is just terrible! You must feel awful. I wish there was something I could do."
But I can't. I am not sympathetic. My feelings are that when it's time, it's time, and the kindest thing is to let go. There is nothing I can do to "fix" the "problem", and I don't feel I should if there was. Sympathy, while highly valued in our culture, is very disempowering. It lends the air of "I'm fine and you have a problem." Expressing sympathy this way can accentuates a victim state of mind.
Makes me sound like a cold-hearted, jaded bitch, doesn't it? *sigh* Maybe. It's not supposed to. I understand what they are feeling, maybe all too well, but I don’t have to go there with them. I don't have to be swallowed up in the loss. Instead, I know there is hurt, and I want to provide what is needed. I'm empathetic.
I will empathize with them. I will let them feel their feelings, express their concerns, and shed their tears. I will help provide what they need to take their next step, if they are open to seeing it and receiving it. I will be with them with my heart open. I hope they find strength in my quiet witness and find peace through their mourning.
This is a hard one, because it's not exactly socially acceptable.
Beloved's grandmother is dying. She is old and in the haze of dementia and recently fell and broke her tailbone. She's stopped eating and drinking in favor of sleep and pain meds. Basically, she no longer wants to be in this life. Understandably, it is a hard time for the family.
Socially, I should say something like, "This is just terrible! You must feel awful. I wish there was something I could do."
But I can't. I am not sympathetic. My feelings are that when it's time, it's time, and the kindest thing is to let go. There is nothing I can do to "fix" the "problem", and I don't feel I should if there was. Sympathy, while highly valued in our culture, is very disempowering. It lends the air of "I'm fine and you have a problem." Expressing sympathy this way can accentuates a victim state of mind.
Makes me sound like a cold-hearted, jaded bitch, doesn't it? *sigh* Maybe. It's not supposed to. I understand what they are feeling, maybe all too well, but I don’t have to go there with them. I don't have to be swallowed up in the loss. Instead, I know there is hurt, and I want to provide what is needed. I'm empathetic.
I will empathize with them. I will let them feel their feelings, express their concerns, and shed their tears. I will help provide what they need to take their next step, if they are open to seeing it and receiving it. I will be with them with my heart open. I hope they find strength in my quiet witness and find peace through their mourning.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Every Day...Charismatic
Day 23 - May 23
I am charismatic.
This is NOT how I would describe myself ordinarily. Ordinarily, I protest that I am "just me" or "nothing special." I regularly try to brush aside what I do, who I am. I am more self-critical than anything.
But I am learning that maybe I AM someone. I can can walk into a room and instantly be the center of attention. Apparently, people think highly of me and what I have to say.
I think that part of that is that no matter to whom I am talking to, I try to treat them as an equal. *wry smile* When I was in politics, I used to comment that even the powers of the world put on their pants one leg at a time. I want to know your opinions, and I believe what I have to say has real value. Most of the time. :-P Sometimes, I still get stunned and awed and it takes some doing to level the pedestal.
I suppose I first became aware of it in high school, although I generally thought it was bizarre that people *wanted* to hang out with me. I've struggled in setting my standards and abilities professionally, but it got to where I could hold people's attention and was invited to speak on issues. Today, Beloved and I share something that people watch and want to be a part of. That is charismatic, and I have that.
I am charismatic.
This is NOT how I would describe myself ordinarily. Ordinarily, I protest that I am "just me" or "nothing special." I regularly try to brush aside what I do, who I am. I am more self-critical than anything.
But I am learning that maybe I AM someone. I can can walk into a room and instantly be the center of attention. Apparently, people think highly of me and what I have to say.
I think that part of that is that no matter to whom I am talking to, I try to treat them as an equal. *wry smile* When I was in politics, I used to comment that even the powers of the world put on their pants one leg at a time. I want to know your opinions, and I believe what I have to say has real value. Most of the time. :-P Sometimes, I still get stunned and awed and it takes some doing to level the pedestal.
I suppose I first became aware of it in high school, although I generally thought it was bizarre that people *wanted* to hang out with me. I've struggled in setting my standards and abilities professionally, but it got to where I could hold people's attention and was invited to speak on issues. Today, Beloved and I share something that people watch and want to be a part of. That is charismatic, and I have that.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Every Day...Diplomatic
Day 22 - May 22
I am gracious. I'm working with the Merriam-Webster definition: 3 : : employing tact and conciliation especially in situations of stress
In general, I try to mediate differences and frustrations. I try to see the point of view, offer alternative communications, interpret the deeper issues. I can usually straddle the fence and understand both sides. Such a talent was both helpful and devisive when I was in politics, but among friends, it is a blessing.
Sometimes, it is more a demonstrative action, like last night. When we retired, Beloved and Rain were "in the mood" and I just wasn't. Despite the protests that we could all just be good and go to sleep, I deliberately fired each of them up and then cheerfully exited the room in favor of the couch. *grins* I waited long enough to be satisfied that my little mischief worked and then dirfted off to sleep. At some point, Beloved came and brought me back to bed and the three of us cuddled into DreamTime... *smiles*
I don't know that Rain really understood before that I really am 100% okay with the relationship. Today, it was as if we were sisters shopping...lounging in a Cuddler recliner, getting a pedicure (my first one ever!), and talking about boys (specifically AM and Beloved). She seemed much more at ease today.
I worry about both Rain and Beloved. She is officially moving to Pennsylvania in June, taking her place at AM's side, which is what Beloved and I have both pushed for. At the same time, Beloved's currying a sad heart for losing the close relationship, and she's scared of moving so far from the familiar. I wish I could offer an alternative, but there really aren't any midpoints for this situation. *sigh* Sometimes, there are no good answers.
I am gracious. I'm working with the Merriam-Webster definition: 3 : : employing tact and conciliation especially in situations of stress
In general, I try to mediate differences and frustrations. I try to see the point of view, offer alternative communications, interpret the deeper issues. I can usually straddle the fence and understand both sides. Such a talent was both helpful and devisive when I was in politics, but among friends, it is a blessing.
Sometimes, it is more a demonstrative action, like last night. When we retired, Beloved and Rain were "in the mood" and I just wasn't. Despite the protests that we could all just be good and go to sleep, I deliberately fired each of them up and then cheerfully exited the room in favor of the couch. *grins* I waited long enough to be satisfied that my little mischief worked and then dirfted off to sleep. At some point, Beloved came and brought me back to bed and the three of us cuddled into DreamTime... *smiles*
I don't know that Rain really understood before that I really am 100% okay with the relationship. Today, it was as if we were sisters shopping...lounging in a Cuddler recliner, getting a pedicure (my first one ever!), and talking about boys (specifically AM and Beloved). She seemed much more at ease today.
I worry about both Rain and Beloved. She is officially moving to Pennsylvania in June, taking her place at AM's side, which is what Beloved and I have both pushed for. At the same time, Beloved's currying a sad heart for losing the close relationship, and she's scared of moving so far from the familiar. I wish I could offer an alternative, but there really aren't any midpoints for this situation. *sigh* Sometimes, there are no good answers.
For Stay-At-Home Parents
This was sent to me by a good friend and I HAD to share...
My husband always asks how my day went. And he really wants to know. He’s nice like that. As we slowly push the girls around in the stroller, he shares what went right during his day at the office, and I share funny things the kids said. On bad days we vent stresses and offer support and advice.
But lately I can’t help wondering if when I mention that my day was sort of stressful, he mentally thinks, “Yeah, my days are like that too.” Because I really don’t think that our days have the same sort of stresses.
When you decide to become a stay-at-home parent, you enter into a different realm — one ruled by illogical two-year-old dictators, school schedules, and choosing the correct color yogurt. As much as I can explain this to my husband, I don’t know that I’m getting through. Now I’ve done the next best thing: creating a list of questions that will help him and other office-bound parents gauge how (cough, cough) similar their days are to ours.
When you walked into work this morning and pleasantly greeted your co-worker Jim, was his first reaction to scream “NO! WANT JASON!" followed by an office supply being thrown at you?
Has a colleague ever climbed up on your lap while you were using your computer and slammed the keyboard with both fists until the up arrow no longer worked?
Do you have to lock yourself in the supply closet or bathroom on a regular basis in order to make phone calls?
Did you finish a complete thought at any time during the day?
When you went out to lunch with your fellow workers, did you have to pack a diaper/juice/extra outfit for them? Did you have to wipe their faces? Smile an apology and leave an extra tip for the waiter on their behalf?
When a co-worker needed you for something, did she sit at her desk with her head tilted back toward the ceiling and repeatedly scream “SEAN! SEEEEANNNN! SEAAAAAAN!” until you came to find him?
When you needed a specific colleague, did you search all over for him, only to finally find him giggling in the cabinet under the sink? Did you also find six pairs of your church shoes under there with him?
Have you had to come to an associate’s aid because she fell off her desk after trying to climb on top of it using a rolling chair?
When you reached for the report a co-worker was handing you, did he snatch them away at the last second and scream “MINE!” while shoving you backwards?
Does your colleague lift up her shirt and pick things out of her belly button every time she comes over to ask a question?
While you are using the restroom, do various co-workers come in the stall and ask you to settle a disagreement or open a packet of fruit snacks?
During a board meeting when everyone is present, do you notice a smell and then have to check all your colleagues’ pants to locate it? In fact, at ANY point in your day do you have to deal with another person's feces?
If the answer to most of these questions is no, it’s a safe bet to assume you’re in an office. That said, if your answer to most of these questions is yes, and you know you’re in an office, it’s safe to assume you might need a new job.
My husband always asks how my day went. And he really wants to know. He’s nice like that. As we slowly push the girls around in the stroller, he shares what went right during his day at the office, and I share funny things the kids said. On bad days we vent stresses and offer support and advice.
But lately I can’t help wondering if when I mention that my day was sort of stressful, he mentally thinks, “Yeah, my days are like that too.” Because I really don’t think that our days have the same sort of stresses.
When you decide to become a stay-at-home parent, you enter into a different realm — one ruled by illogical two-year-old dictators, school schedules, and choosing the correct color yogurt. As much as I can explain this to my husband, I don’t know that I’m getting through. Now I’ve done the next best thing: creating a list of questions that will help him and other office-bound parents gauge how (cough, cough) similar their days are to ours.
When you walked into work this morning and pleasantly greeted your co-worker Jim, was his first reaction to scream “NO! WANT JASON!" followed by an office supply being thrown at you?
Has a colleague ever climbed up on your lap while you were using your computer and slammed the keyboard with both fists until the up arrow no longer worked?
Do you have to lock yourself in the supply closet or bathroom on a regular basis in order to make phone calls?
Did you finish a complete thought at any time during the day?
When you went out to lunch with your fellow workers, did you have to pack a diaper/juice/extra outfit for them? Did you have to wipe their faces? Smile an apology and leave an extra tip for the waiter on their behalf?
When a co-worker needed you for something, did she sit at her desk with her head tilted back toward the ceiling and repeatedly scream “SEAN! SEEEEANNNN! SEAAAAAAN!” until you came to find him?
When you needed a specific colleague, did you search all over for him, only to finally find him giggling in the cabinet under the sink? Did you also find six pairs of your church shoes under there with him?
Have you had to come to an associate’s aid because she fell off her desk after trying to climb on top of it using a rolling chair?
When you reached for the report a co-worker was handing you, did he snatch them away at the last second and scream “MINE!” while shoving you backwards?
Does your colleague lift up her shirt and pick things out of her belly button every time she comes over to ask a question?
While you are using the restroom, do various co-workers come in the stall and ask you to settle a disagreement or open a packet of fruit snacks?
During a board meeting when everyone is present, do you notice a smell and then have to check all your colleagues’ pants to locate it? In fact, at ANY point in your day do you have to deal with another person's feces?
If the answer to most of these questions is no, it’s a safe bet to assume you’re in an office. That said, if your answer to most of these questions is yes, and you know you’re in an office, it’s safe to assume you might need a new job.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Every Day...Connections
Day 21 - May 21
I connect people. A compliment I received once was that I always brought someone new to events. *chuckles* Maybe you don't see the compliment, but to me, it is about sharing experiences with people who might not otherwise reach out. It's about introducing ideas, activities, dreams. It's about re-connecting the world, one person at a time.
"We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other...If we share with caring, lightheartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other, and this moment will have been worthwhile." - Deepak Chopra
There is the popular notion that we are all connected within six degrees. What if everyone brought one person one step closer? Could we possibly connect and create a better place?
I connect people. A compliment I received once was that I always brought someone new to events. *chuckles* Maybe you don't see the compliment, but to me, it is about sharing experiences with people who might not otherwise reach out. It's about introducing ideas, activities, dreams. It's about re-connecting the world, one person at a time.
"We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other...If we share with caring, lightheartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other, and this moment will have been worthwhile." - Deepak Chopra
There is the popular notion that we are all connected within six degrees. What if everyone brought one person one step closer? Could we possibly connect and create a better place?
Friday, May 20, 2011
Every Day...TGIF!
Day 20 - May 20
It's Friday and I MADE IT! *smiles* We made it. It's been a rough week! Beloved has worked every day for the last 19 days. Boy and I have survived the last three days with no television. Girl is actually signing things and I am understanding her. It's Friday. There's promises of storms tomorrow, and I hope to dance in the rain and drum louder than the thunder!
I made it though today!
It's Friday and I MADE IT! *smiles* We made it. It's been a rough week! Beloved has worked every day for the last 19 days. Boy and I have survived the last three days with no television. Girl is actually signing things and I am understanding her. It's Friday. There's promises of storms tomorrow, and I hope to dance in the rain and drum louder than the thunder!
I made it though today!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Every Day...Blessed
Day 19 - May 19
I am blessed. It seems like so much of my time and focus is on the negative...on what frustrates me, angers me, depresses me. The truth is, I am blessed beyond measure. I have love and health. I have friends and family. I have a home of my own. I have a garden and a library and a fantastic cast-iron bathtub to retreat to.
Yes, I have a wishlist, mostly for stability and happiness in the future, but I think we all hope for that. Albert Einstein said, There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is. I am blessed and live among miracles.
I am blessed. It seems like so much of my time and focus is on the negative...on what frustrates me, angers me, depresses me. The truth is, I am blessed beyond measure. I have love and health. I have friends and family. I have a home of my own. I have a garden and a library and a fantastic cast-iron bathtub to retreat to.
Yes, I have a wishlist, mostly for stability and happiness in the future, but I think we all hope for that. Albert Einstein said, There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is. I am blessed and live among miracles.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Every Day...Loyal
Day 18 - May 18
I am not a fair-weather friend. It doesn't really matter what the circumstances are, I'll do what I can to move mountains, flatten hills, and raise forests. Heck, I'm more likely to wade in to the disaster, often dragging help along with me. I am loyal to my friends and my friends' friends.
Truthfully, I think sometimes it drives people nuts sometimes...as if they didn't know what they were signing on for! HA!...but I love you so much for dancing along side me!
I am not a fair-weather friend. It doesn't really matter what the circumstances are, I'll do what I can to move mountains, flatten hills, and raise forests. Heck, I'm more likely to wade in to the disaster, often dragging help along with me. I am loyal to my friends and my friends' friends.
Truthfully, I think sometimes it drives people nuts sometimes...as if they didn't know what they were signing on for! HA!...but I love you so much for dancing along side me!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
There may be a drought coming...
Boy and I had a pretty big fight today about "shows". It's been brewing for a couple of weeks, and I've been putting it off in exchange for the opportunity to blog, read, and otherwise steal time for myself. Unfortunately, I made the ultimatum that there will not be any more shows for a while.
That means no television, no video games, no computer.
It's at least as much punishment for me as it is for him, but I created the situation. *sigh* Not much I can do but keep my word and muster on. We'll figure it out, but with a better rationing plan. Besides, the weather is semi-reliably warm now and time should be spent at parks and such anyway.
Still...I'm going to have a bit of withdrawal, even if I DO manage to nab a few minutes to check in...
That means no television, no video games, no computer.
It's at least as much punishment for me as it is for him, but I created the situation. *sigh* Not much I can do but keep my word and muster on. We'll figure it out, but with a better rationing plan. Besides, the weather is semi-reliably warm now and time should be spent at parks and such anyway.
Still...I'm going to have a bit of withdrawal, even if I DO manage to nab a few minutes to check in...
Every Day...Clever
Day 17 - May 17
I am clever. I can find short-cuts or substitutions for things that I want to accomplish. If I don't have baking powder, I can combine 2 parts cream of tartar with 1 part baking soda. I found a split spigot so I can run a hose under the fence for the backyard AND have a hose available for the front yard (total cost was $12 for a new hose and spigot, vs. well over $100 to move the water source). I come up with re-use ideas that help keep the budget manageable. It takes a little creativity and some stubbornness, but sometimes doing it the "hard way" actually IS pretty clever.
I am clever. I can find short-cuts or substitutions for things that I want to accomplish. If I don't have baking powder, I can combine 2 parts cream of tartar with 1 part baking soda. I found a split spigot so I can run a hose under the fence for the backyard AND have a hose available for the front yard (total cost was $12 for a new hose and spigot, vs. well over $100 to move the water source). I come up with re-use ideas that help keep the budget manageable. It takes a little creativity and some stubbornness, but sometimes doing it the "hard way" actually IS pretty clever.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Every Day...Open-Minded
Day 16 - May 16
I am open-minded. I honestly do not think there is much in lifestyle choices that would rock me. Shock me, disturb me...sure...but I believe I am able to separate myself enough to accept that "your kink is not my kink."
People think I am a tender spirit because I don't bulwark my emotions. It's kind of funny because if I express myself, it is a sure sign that I AM comfortable enough doing so.
*wry smile* I remember a play party early at which I ended up crying in the corner. My tears were interpreted by those who didn't know me as being squicked by the needle play. HA! I've cut up bodies and gotten intimate with the blood donor center. I admit, I do not understand needle play, but hey, have a blast! No, my tears were because I had tried to escape to the kitchen to wash dishes, to be of service, but was gently told I was a guest and didn't need to do that. I had no recourse for the feelings inside. Having later explained myself to the Hostess, I was promised that if I ever came back, She would ensure I had the opportunity to serve as much as the other girls played.
But it is that sort of situation that I am misunderstood.
In general, I am fascinated by things in the lifestyle. I've tried to work out my own depravity in stories and talks, seeking to wrap my mind around what is inside ME. Learning about others' explorations is intriguing and tantalizing. Muggles might label me as sick, but I think that makes me open-minded.
I am open-minded. I honestly do not think there is much in lifestyle choices that would rock me. Shock me, disturb me...sure...but I believe I am able to separate myself enough to accept that "your kink is not my kink."
People think I am a tender spirit because I don't bulwark my emotions. It's kind of funny because if I express myself, it is a sure sign that I AM comfortable enough doing so.
*wry smile* I remember a play party early at which I ended up crying in the corner. My tears were interpreted by those who didn't know me as being squicked by the needle play. HA! I've cut up bodies and gotten intimate with the blood donor center. I admit, I do not understand needle play, but hey, have a blast! No, my tears were because I had tried to escape to the kitchen to wash dishes, to be of service, but was gently told I was a guest and didn't need to do that. I had no recourse for the feelings inside. Having later explained myself to the Hostess, I was promised that if I ever came back, She would ensure I had the opportunity to serve as much as the other girls played.
But it is that sort of situation that I am misunderstood.
In general, I am fascinated by things in the lifestyle. I've tried to work out my own depravity in stories and talks, seeking to wrap my mind around what is inside ME. Learning about others' explorations is intriguing and tantalizing. Muggles might label me as sick, but I think that makes me open-minded.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Every Day...Beautiful
*smiles* I am beginning to think that the reason for THIRTY days is because you start having to dig a little deeper than might be comfortable...
I am beautiful. *gulps* Yes, this has to do with my "outer shell", but it is a hard statement to make or accept.
For me as a survivor, it is dangerous to be beautiful. It can bring unwanted and painful attention. For a long, long time, I hid in tent-sized clothing and long hair. Being beautiful was something I avoided!
Over the years, I have learned that
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.' We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? ~ Marianne Williamson
I have had to learn that hiding is not a service and not even a protection to myself. While I have grumbles...my tummy isn't flat, my breasts sag, my flubbies...I have also learned that isn't all that others see (or if it IS, then I don't want their shallowness in my life). I've learned that I DO turn others on with my body and my mind and my spirit. I've learned that it is okay to be beautiful.
I am beautiful. *gulps* Yes, this has to do with my "outer shell", but it is a hard statement to make or accept.
For me as a survivor, it is dangerous to be beautiful. It can bring unwanted and painful attention. For a long, long time, I hid in tent-sized clothing and long hair. Being beautiful was something I avoided!
Over the years, I have learned that
I have had to learn that hiding is not a service and not even a protection to myself. While I have grumbles...my tummy isn't flat, my breasts sag, my flubbies...I have also learned that isn't all that others see (or if it IS, then I don't want their shallowness in my life). I've learned that I DO turn others on with my body and my mind and my spirit. I've learned that it is okay to be beautiful.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Every Day...School
Day 14 - May 14
I have applied for admission to a local college. *raises eyebrow* Does that count? *laughs* My argument is that while I love school and love learning, I have put it OFF for...years. Excuses abound...I already have two degrees and a couple of certificates. I don't have the childcare. I don't have the money. I don't know what I'd study.
Excuses.
So, I took the first step and applied for admission. I plan to take 1-2 classes this summer and see how it goes.
I have applied for admission to a local college. *raises eyebrow* Does that count? *laughs* My argument is that while I love school and love learning, I have put it OFF for...years. Excuses abound...I already have two degrees and a couple of certificates. I don't have the childcare. I don't have the money. I don't know what I'd study.
Excuses.
So, I took the first step and applied for admission. I plan to take 1-2 classes this summer and see how it goes.
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