The Other Side of the Coin

Over the past two months or so I've lost approximately 20 pounds, which is rapid for any person. Other than the obvious health benefits I failed to consider the downsides. After 21 years I had become comfortable in my own skin, I knew what outside stimulants brought specific bodily reactions, I knew how to manipulate my body to get the responses I wanted, namely orgasms.

Of course it all boils down to sex. Sex is my physical outlet, often times through masturbation. Without that outlet there are noticeable and drastic changes both emotionally and physically. I get cranky, bitchy, and all number of other expletives, my back and neck tense more and more, like my whole body is under pressure until eventually I snap. Sex helps me relieve that pressure and keeps my mind clear and my body relaxed.

Logically speaking, losing weight should increase libido but I haven't found that yet. If anything, my libido has decreased. Granted, that could be due to intense emotional strain from the past few months, but typically under stress my sexual needs are more pronounced than anything. Not to mention, even when I do masturbate, my orgasms are a light pop where they used to be a roaring explosion. They're more difficult to bring about and I can't have them in rapid succession like I used to-- something that took years of time to develop for me.

Perhaps it's just because I haven't been as active in masturbation as I used to. Perhaps it's the medications I'm taking now, a slight change in body chemistry could alter any number of things. Or maybe it's just that my body is changing rapidly and it isn't the same long enough for me to figure it out again.

Every day I notice something new. My toes are thinner, and appear much longer and more gangly than they used to. My shoulders are more square and my arms are thinner, the bones in my ankles are more pronounced and my face is less round. I'm sure tomorrow morning I'll see something else I hadn't noticed.

I'm concerned because what if the things my body used to respond to, the things I really enjoy, don't feel the same as they had before? What if my body reacts differently, negatively even? I suppose I'll have to start from scratch again, re-exploring all of the things I had experimented with before. While a fresh start could lead somewhere even better than before, it's disheartening to know that I couldn't enjoy my 'old' self longer.

A few more months down the road and I'll be waking up as an entirely different person, physically anyway.

Well, here's to change, and all the paths of discovery it may open up.

For the Record...

I just want it stated that when I die, I want my toys buried with me. All of them. Namely the Hitachi Magic Wand.

If there is an afterlife, and if the things you are entombed with are the things you can take with you, I want to be prepared.

Ebb and Flow

As with all things, there is a natural and cyclical progression. In my experience, human relationships are no different. Whether we are relating to another person, or to an idea, an expression, a passion, a thing; there always seems to be a time when we need to withdraw, and other times when we need to push ahead. The length of the cycle can vary, a pianist may go years without playing, but eventually, in a long enough time line, they will play again.

Writing, for me, is no different. There is a strong ebb and flow that usually follows the same pattern. Inspiration comes from emotional upheaval, whether it be negative or positive emotions. I'll feel inspired for a few days, then it just won't come as naturally, and I'll settle back in to my normal routine. My words always convey how I'm feeling at the time.

Right now I'm feeling a bit lost. I know where I want to go but right now it's only an idea. I have no guidance, and no path that's been shown to me. It's a largely organic process but it's tiring. I'm 21 years old and I feel as if I have the weight of the world on my shoulders, when really all I have are the weight of my own expectations.

I'm also afraid. Of failure, of letting myself down, of not being the absolute best that I'm capable of. It's frustrating when you know you can do more, but there's a wall around you, and as hard as you search, you can't figure out what that wall is, let alone how to traverse it. I keep telling myself that things will happen in their own time, that forcing myself to do what is necessary when my heart isn't in it would be the worst thing I could do. But I simply don't know right now.

I want to learn, I want to make connections and relate things to each other. Peace for me comes from seeing those interrelated intricacies that seem to be overlooked, from being able to witness things come together, from accomplishing something that I set my mind to.

I know what I have to do. I have to keep moving. I have to let go of what I have here and find somewhere where I can immerse myself in my passions, completely surrounded by what inspires me. I'm just not sure if I'm ready. I'll probably never know when I'm ready. I just hope that I'm not paralyzed where I am. I have come so far, and changed so much to be who I am now. I've sought out what I wanted to learn in order to grow and become what I think I can be, but again, what I want is still so far away.

I'm not doubting my abilities, I'm not doubting who I am. I know what I'm capable of and I know how far I'll go to reach for something. I just wish I didn't have to wait.

Flash!

So, I had to stop masturbating long enough to say some things about the BiMiNi Flash...

I'm not kidding, the porn is still going and everything.

It's this adorable little toy from FunFactory that packs quite a punch, with 9 different intensities from light rumble to full-on bumble and three varying patterns of pulses, it's a rabbit-style design with dual motors and it's rechargeable. No joke, I'm in love.

It's tiny, the whole thing fits on my hand (and I have small hands) and it may look a bit wimpy, but the insertable length is just enough to stimulate all of my goodies, and my clit is happy to boot. Not to mention it's made out of silicone, it's waterproof, and oh yea, it has a super-chic design that just screams German engineering.

I could throw this little toy into any bag, purse included, and not only is it small enough to not cause a scene, but you have to press the on button for two seconds before it starts getting it's groove on, so you don't have to worry about it going off at random times because your chapstick got all up in it's business. I'm half tempted to take it to work, I'm quite serious.

Now it's not the most quiet toy I've ever heard, but it's certainly more discreet than most. At the highest speed setting, it creates quite a buzz, but the lower settings are fairly quiet. It certainly doesn't make the loud noise that a Hitachi produces (well, at least the motors don't make a loud noise) and in all honesty until you get into the higher range of settings, it sounds like an electric toothbrush (so lock yourself in the bathroom with it?).

I love it! It's just too cute and really I can't think of any negatives from my perspective. Now if you're a gal who doesn't like any clitoral stimulation or needs a lot of vaginal fullness for satisfaction, this may not be the toy for you, but with it's wide range of speeds and settings, I'm pretty sure just about anyone could use it and be quite happy with it.

And fellas! I haven't forgotten you. I haven't tested it yet (yet being the operative word) but I'm fairly certain this would make a great buzzy butt toy. It's long enough to reach your prostate but slim enough to not crack open your piggy bank. Oh, and on the lower settings, it would make a great ball massager too. Just saying.

Here's a pic!

Isn't it cute?

Mirror

I've always been the girl that never quite fit, the oddball of oddballs, and while my ideas aren't radical (to me at least) they aren't common. It's been like that as long as I can remember. Where most girls in grade school drew their personal foundations from Barbie and their mothers, I drew from strong feminine historical figures. My mother wasn't overly pushy about what I should do or who I should be, she went overboard on how I should be independent and self-sufficient starting way back before I was even walking. It took, and now I'm more stubborn and proud than most men. My thoughts and ideas are pretty much androgynous, I'm a feminist, a little femmy, a little more butchy, and just a little odd.

I've struggled with that for most of my life. I didn't understand how I was different, or why I was different, why I would be the one overjoyed about a new book when any other girl would be overjoyed about a new doll or bow or ribbon. It took me years to understand that there really is no reason. I'm different. Not better, just different.

I'm the girl who will have to be dragged, forcibly, down an aisle to be married. I'm the girl who likes children, in small doses, but don't really want any of my own. I'm the girl who will choose a career and a passion for sex and the world and culture over the white picket fence and raising a family any day. I'm perfectly content being the spinster with too many cats and even more stories to tell. I'll have more lovers over time than I will serious committed relationships, and even those relationships won't be the 'traditional' set-up.

There has always been this pressure to do the "woman thing" and set your goals to be a wife and mother. Even among all of the leaps and bounds that feminism has had over the decades, that pressure is still there, stoked by traditionalists and also by people that simply believe that a woman's place is in the kitchen, raising a family. While that may work for some, while being a homemaker may be their fulfillment, it would be my shackles.

Aside from marriage and child-rearing, women are also traditionally boxed-in sexually as well. Culturally we are told as a gender that we should be delicate, and submissive to our male partner's desires. Our needs come last, if our needs are even recognized at all.

I'm not saying a woman's needs should come first in a relationship, far from it. Whatever genders come together in an encounter, there is always a symbiotic balance in which both people can be entirely satisfied without compromising the other's position. We are all puzzle pieces with many different sides, varying appendages, varying indentations, and it's all constantly changing. Human sexuality, especially female sexuality, is very fluid and organic. No two people are exactly alike in the same way that no two people are exactly complimentary.

Again, though, society leads us to believe otherwise. There is an unwritten standard of what is normal and acceptable and we are pushed to attain that standard instead of simply finding our own way. Female-born bodies are pushed to be feminine and maternal, while male-born bodies are pushed to be strong and masculine, with an unyielding emphasis on machismo. That pattern just doesn't work for some people.

It has taken me years to stop trying to be that standard of what is believed to be the feminine ideal. It's still a struggle, I still have to recognize when I'm trying to push myself into a box that I just won't fit in to, but my personal choice is to not be that standard unless it's something I'm contented with, unless it's something that I choose for myself. I enjoy my fluidity, I enjoy being able to float between delicate and aggressive, between power and submission, between feminine and masculine, and anywhere else I choose to go.

I used to use the world as a mirror. A reflection of what I should be based on the opinions of society and specifically those around me. I would reflect what they wanted to see, and it showed. I still didn't fit because I can't change who I am to fit someone else's idea of who I should be. I need to be happy to change. I need to want that change for myself and once I attain that change I have to be content with it.

I will change, over time, in a slow process of learning and doing, but it will be the lessons I choose to learn, and the things I choose to do. I will be my own mirror.

Predicament...

Now this might not sound like the end of the world to most of the world, but I'm running low on lube.

I'm getting into the red zone of my favorite lube to date, the pump-action 8.45 fluid ounce bottle of Maximus lube. You can call it Wonder Lube or Magic Lube, if you like.

I got it some time in June, so roughly 6 months to drain this sucker, and while that may seem like a long time, I didn't start vigorously using it until a few months ago.

It's sort of that accomplished feeling that you get after you extinguish a bottle of toothpaste.

Anywho, luckily I ordered two new bottles (one Maximus, one Liquid Silk) and they're on their way, but the bleak question is, will they make it here in time?

I'll elaborate... I masturbate, a lot. A lot, a lot. It keeps me sane. It keeps me happy. It keeps me from being an outright snarky sarcastic cranky bitch with no verbal filter. It therefore keeps the world a happier place.

Now do we see the importance of lube?

SexForums.com

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Positively Speechless

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All I have to say...

Is that I'm pretty sure I have a new neighbor. I'm pretty sure they're quite redneck. I'm also pretty sure I'm going to have a lot of fun making a lot of fun noises. Nothing says 'Welcome to the building.' quite like kinky sex noises.

My poor neighbors.

Overcoming Catholicism

Now coming from a strongly Irish-Italian family there were always two constants in my childhood- lots of cousins and church. Any kinky person is well aware of where they stand in the eyes of the devout Catholics (that would be either in the second or seventh circle of hell depending on how you interpret violence against God, nature, art, etc.) and I was told from a very young age that sex and sexuality were for married people only, any interest of mine was off limits until I had husband supervision and approval from the Pope.

You would think after hundreds of years of sexually repressed Catholic teenagers getting drugged up, drunk, and knocked up (usually in the same night) that someone would have had the bright idea that maybe this abstinence thing just isn't natural. Nothing burns my toast more than someone insisting that you have to save yourself until marriage because it's important to enter into matrimony as a pure naive person, clean in all things spiritual, mental, and emotional.

Let's be real.

Arguably most romantic relationships nowadays are sexual in nature and not only is a sexual connection with your partner essential to sustain a happy relationship, being on the same page sexually is also a huge plus. In my opinion, a lack of sexual connection or communication is a valid deal breaker. I can't sustain a relationship without having my sexual needs met and I don't expect the other person to put up with it either. I like knowing my parter's (or potential partner's) likes and dislikes up front because it takes out a lot of the guesswork. I enjoy having the option of taking someone out for a test drive to see if we're compatible. I don't like the idea of having one shot at choosing a life-long partner before I even know what I enjoy, let alone what they might enjoy.

Now granted, you can point to happy couples who have been together for decades and have made their marriage work even after they came into it being virginal and essentially naive, but what people don't point to is the sacrifices that they have had to make to sustain that relationship, or the many other failed marriages that came because people only matched on the surface and later on realized they didn't fit together at all.

Abstinence doesn't work folks.

Education has the distinct benefit of being all-inclusive and multi-leveled. You can determine your own level of involvement while still learning about what's out there. If someone chooses to abstain but still educate themselves then that's an informed personal choice, not simply the only choice that was presented to them. On the opposite side if someone chooses to be sexually active after being educated on safe-sex practices then that's an informed personal choice that is still healthy and responsible.

It took me years to be okay with the fact that I'm a sexual being, it took me years to overcome the idea that what I feel is normal and natural, and that the idea of abstinence was the real perversity. It will also take me many more years to be able to tell my mother exactly what my philosophies are on sex and relationships (I don't particularly enjoy having things thrown at me) and even that might never happen.

Maybe this post is a little disorganized, but if you have to really read any part of this message, here it is: abstinence doesn't work. Tell everyone, anyone who will listen, because the only way education spreads is if people share what they know.

Until next time...

Put down that breadstick mister or it's going in your ass...

So today was rough.

Almost two weeks on this diet and I feel like crawling the walls. I guess it struck me that I can either be miserable and not enjoy the food that I really like, or I can basically be a ticking time bomb and wind up like my father.

Now granted, I won't be on this particular diet forever (I better not be, or I'm holding up a bread store) but there are still some major changes to be made that would have to be permanent. Like no more Rice Krispies! Apparently they have a glycemic index of 50, which is completely and utterly depressing on so many levels. Oh, and no more stuff like white rice, white bread, seeing the pattern? It'll be all hippie crunchy granola from here on out, which is a bit depressing.

On a happier note: Winter Fire is about three and a half months away. I'll be there come hell or high water. I need a good beating. I also need to move to a city, to get more therapy, ya know. Not to mention that beating on people is equally cathartic. Just saying.

Until next time...

Maso-Christ just hit me already

So I've pretty much nailed down why I'm so masochistic, it's pretty much the only way I can completely destress and relax. I have a compulsion for picking at mosquito bites and such, and it's always worst when I'm stressed. Why do I have this compulsion, you may wonder? I like the little bit of pain.

That's pretty much what it is. It's my yoga.

Now as for my sadistic side...

I'm still not quite sure how to explain that, but it sure is fun.

Fine...

Here's just one picture.

My boob- Courtesy of Alexander

More later, of course.

I know...

I promised more about the adult arts and crafts time.

Call it sadism, but you'll just have to wait a bit longer.

Getting naked and jumping into bed and curling up under the blankets just sounds so much better right now.

Penny on the Track

I need to get my shit together. I have a building laundry list of things to do (but laundry isn't on the list) and I'm not accomplishing anything. Just coasting. Amazing how one tiny little thing can derail your whole life.

Tired?

No, exhausted.

Arts and Crafts Time?

Yes please. More to come...

Decide What It Is You Hate: Them or Yourself

Today a writer for Marie Claire magazine posted up a fat-bashing blog about a new TV show featuring an intimate couple of the obese variety. Needless to say the blog went viral, spreading across every social-networking site with individuals expressing both rage and concern. Today Marie Claire had pushed out a tweet stating that the writer had edited the blog with an apology and retraction, and after reading both I'm simply confused.

Now this is what really got me...

In the initial article Maura Kelly wrote that she would "be grossed out if [she] had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other." and also that " I have a few friends who could be called plump. I'm not some size-ist jerk."


I'd like to meet these friends, for one. I would wager their waist size is smaller than my thigh. Secondly, other than being completely uncalled for, to say that she wasn't being a "size-ist jerk" makes me wonder what it is she was really thinking. Would a woman who is a size 6 make her gag while a size 18 would induce a full-on wretch?


Throughout the whole column she implies that all fat people are working to lose weight and that they're unhappy with themselves and unhealthy, but never once does she mention that there are people who are happy with themselves exactly as they are, fat rolls and all, and that those people are within range of being healthy and active. I think the overwhelming deluge of comments is proof-positive that these people do in fact exist.


Something this careless could only have come from someone who was broken themselves. There's a bliss that comes with not being overly concerned with weight and body image, namely that when you look in a mirror, you're content with what you see. This is opposed to feeling that social pressure so acutely that you dissect yourself to the point where all you see are flaws. Ms. Kelly admitted in her retraction that she did struggle with anorexia and body image, and that her over-reaction came from those issues that she has with herself.


In all honesty, I pity her. I believe the insecurity that she has is all-too common with many varying forms. (Personally, I'm insecure about my mental acumen and strive to be as intelligent as I possibly can, I hate feeling stupid or belittled in that way and that's something I struggle with. No one is perfect, afterall) I also believe though that this is how prejudices and stigmas are born. Luckily today, the general population stood up and said differently, someday I hope this is the case for any similar situation. 


In short, while no one is perfect, that doesn't mean you air out your insecurities by backlashing against the other side of the spectrum. And for heavens sake, fire the editor who allowed that to be published.


To read the full article by Maura Kelly: http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/dating-blog/overweight-couples-on-television

Take Care...

Just a little personal side-note for tonight,

Today I went to the doctor for the first time in a few years, he suspects I may have insulin resistance which is basically a short hop away from being a diabetic. Normally I'd say okay, no big deal, except that my father passed away due to complications from diabetes less than two months ago. I've seen what it can reduce someone to, and it's nothing short of terrifying.

It's a shock. I know if I don't turn this around soon, I'll be dead within about 20 years. I'd be in my early 40s.

In short, don't ignore something because you're afraid of what it might mean, it will happen anyway. Take care of yourself and those around you, and if something arises, confront it head-on.

Until next time...

Warm Up Already...

It takes a while for me to warm up to someone. A long, long while.

A big part of that is because I question people's motives, I want to be able to give without question, ask nothing in return, but still feel like what I'm giving is reciprocated in some way. It doesn't have to be sexual, far from it, telling me about yourself works wonders. Telling me what you don't want other people to know works even better. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine, or show you.

Getting to the point where I can be fully open with someone takes months, if not longer. It's an effort, it's letting someone into my most private thoughts, and there are only a handful of people who have ever had that kind of access. I'd like to shorten the time, but at this point I'm not sure how. I'll leap, I'll give you a chance, but that doesn't mean I'll be comfortable.

It's something to work on, I'd like to be open with people from the start, but it's probably my best defense mechanism, so I'm not quite sure how that will work. I'd like to be able to approach people and be comfortable starting conversations without them having to approach me. I'd like to not be so awkward.

Just some thoughts from tonight...

Hetero-norma-what???

Just so there's no confusion (because my definition may be different from yours) here is how I define heteronormative: An individual (male or female) who has a heterosexual orientation, their sexual identity matches that of their biological gender, and they fall into socially-defined gender roles.

As I've been roaming around the LGBTQ and Kink communities there seems to be such a stigma attached to being heterosexual or heteronormative and not only does it confuse me, but it's really quite disheartening. I don't understand how a community can stress tolerance and understanding of 'their own kind' and be active in pushing for equal rights and then turn around and box in the very people they're trying to win over. Shouldn't our very situation give us the empathy necessary to accept that not everyone is born or desires to be gay, lesbian, trans, queer, bisexual, poly, swinging, or kinky?

Don't get me wrong, I'll convert people to kink and whatever else I can faster than any preacher can drag someone to church, but at a certain point some people just don't feel that it's a part of them, and what is honestly wrong with that? We feel we have the right to say 'No, thank you.' when someone tries to push us into a heterosexual vanilla relationship, so shouldn't someone who desires that lifestyle have the option to say 'No, thank you.' to us? (To clarify, I'm not referring to homophobia or queer-bashing individuals. In my opinion there is no such thing as homophobia, just ignorance and intolerance of something someone doesn't understand, and as far as the bashing, I boil that down to fear. I know it exists, I've seen it, but that's not what I'm discussing today.)

Absolutely we still live in a world where the traditional and accepted relationship is heterosexual, and there are most certainly social pressures for women to behave in a feminine, delicate manner, and for men to adopt a masculine machismo, but how many people naturally fall into that category? I mean really... take a moment to consider how many people you know intimately who fall into those categories 100% of the time.

If you know one person, just one person... then you don't know them well enough.

If you had to paint a portrait of the scope of human sexuality, it wouldn't be crisp and defined lines, it would be blurred and foggy. There is no black and white, there are no hard and straight lines. We are all, at one time or another, breaking those gender-defined rules, it's just that some of us do it more often (and more effectively) than others. I will be the first to admit that I have a very divided personality when it comes to gender. A lot of my thoughts and actions can be very masculine, while others can be very feminine, and more often than not they are simply gender neutral. Certainly there are varying degrees depending on the person, but I would wager everything I have that no one can ever be defined as 'heteronormative'. Appearances especially tend to be misleading. A couple who appear to be the mainstream accepted carbon-copy of heterosexuality could, at home, be entirely different. Mrs. Hetero may drop the kids off at soccer practice and then go home, tie up Mr. Hetero when he walks through the door with his briefcase, and tell him he's a good little slut while she ties ribbons in his hair as a warm-up before their swinger party. You really can't know.

You always hear that everyone is different, and that's because it's true. It's not because each of us is a unique snowflake, but instead because each of us is simply just different. No one can live up to the idea of Normal, and if you ask me, no one should have to.

All I ask is that you keep an open mind no matter where you stand in the sexual spectrum. This isn't a lesson for any specific group, it's a lesson for everyone as human beings. It all boils down to having respect for other people's choices and acknowledging their right to make those choices for themselves.

If you're offended because Joe and Chris decide to get married in Iowa and buy a home and raise a family, get over it. Their choice doesn't change any part of your life.

If you're offended because Barbie and Ken decide to get married in Florida and they buy a mini-van and won't come to your poly-party-orgy, get over it. Their choice doesn't change any part of your life.

No where is it us versus them. Every little detail of human sexuality is all part of the same spectrum. We all fit together into one scope, there is no division and there are no borders.

No where is there a definition of normal.

TGIF

In celebration of Friday, I'm continuing my lazy-streak by posting this video. I made no contribution to it except maybe a thousand views, and simply find a very raw and inspirational truth in it.

Enjoy. 




Doll Face by Andrew Thomas Huang
More credit info on YouTube Page.

Family Ties

You always here the expression 'you can't choose your family', and they would be absolutely right. Biologically, we are bound to those who bring us into the world, for better or for worse. Except there are no vows, no choice to be made, no first meeting jitters or comfortable rut three years later. You're born, you're there, you're stuck.

That's probably why I find the bonds of biologically unrelated families so attractive. It's a chosen family, people you have chosen to open yourself up to. For better or for worse comes with a question mark instead of a period,  and while there are still arguments and rough patches, there is very little you can't work out.

I'm not saying this can't occur in biological families, but as I'm sure everyone has experienced at one point or another, sometimes you're just different. The plus-side is that there will always be somewhere where you fit just right, you just have to go looking for it.

Apologies for the cheesy business, there's just a lot going on upstairs.

Flogging: Because When in Rome...

I love the sound as leather falls against skin. It's a symphony in a second, the light rustle of leather, the quick humming as it circles around, then the thwacking crescendo, a sigh and a moan, and the ebbing scrape as the leather slips over skin.

I met TT through Dark Odyssey's Summer Camp. We were both rooming in Incriminating Polaroids, organized by a group of very artistic and creative individuals. TT was attending with his partner and sub, B, and introduced himself before camp, via online messages. I couldn't have asked for a warmer person to speak with, and when camp finally rolled around, I felt almost instantly comfortable with him. B was a spirited woman with a friendly smile and deliciously curvy figure that gave her an all-around aura of pleasantness, and together they made quite a pair.

Later that evening, I watched my first dungeon session. TT and B were working-over a heavy bottom, S, her moans and screams just echoed the force of what she was feeling. It was nothing short of beautiful. Her face was glowing with what only can be described as absolute bliss, while TT's and B's faces reflected an intense concentration and focus. You could see them taking in all of S's movements, her twitches and her writhing, monitoring her every sound for the slightest sign of trouble. I knew halfway through I wanted to try.

After their session with S, we moved to a table towards the front of the dungeon, in front of the stage. It was late, and cold, but I was quite determined. After stripping down to just my underwear, I hopped up on the massage table, laying face down, arms outstretched in front of me. TT warmed me up slowly, feeling and spanking, before he pulled out the flogger. He started with a light suede that felt like air. I was surprised at the feeling, the sting was mild but radiated over my skin. I felt everything, down to the smallest movement of air around me. B assisted, checking on me regularly, keeping a watchful eye since this was my first time. TT moved to heavier floggers, checking in with me to see pain levels. I felt a taste of the bliss S had experienced. My mind was quiet (which rarely happens) and I just had this sensation of simply existing. TT discovered a distinct fondness for my ass, which turns all shades of pink and red easily, and after what felt like 20 minutes, nearly an hour had passed. The session was over, and I already wanted more.

Summer camp was comparable to swimming in warm water after standing in the wind, it was comfortable and safe; like realizing you have gills instead of lungs and finding your own kind. Kink requires that you turn yourself inward and dissect what it is that makes you who you are, why you enjoy the things you do. In my experience I've found that people who have a lot of self-reflection are more grounded and stable, because you need that grounding to explore the darker sides of yourself. It was incredible being around so many different people, all with very different and distinct tastes, but still having that uniting thread of commonality. For me it really was like being home. I didn't have to be concerned with how someone would react, because odds were very much in my favor that they had already experienced it. It was a comfort, and while I'm eternally grateful to my local friends who are kinky and/or kink friendly, summer camp was on a much greater scale and I hope to show my friends that as well. It galvanized my desire to live in an urban area, and I can't wait to experience more.

Until next time...

Concerns

This blogging thing will get personal, and steamy, but I have a lot of thinking to do.

Living in the buckle of the Bible Belt leaves little room for anything other than complete anonymity, and while my experiences are limited, they do involve other people whose lives could be negatively impacted by what I write here. I'm kinky, and while I don't see a problem with it, local culture seems to think that any kinkster embodies the purest of evils. If supposed kinkster makes it out of a religious intervention alive without at least one attempt at being exorcised or converted, well they are one lucky individual. People who aren't monogamous and heterosexual and therefore 'different' are stigmatized to the point where you travel in tight circles, unable to trust just about everyone.

I will absolutely conceal their identities as much as possible, aliases and limited personal information are a given, but I'm not sure that's enough and that's a struggle for me. I've heard stories of blogger-drama and outings and would much rather stay out of it. If someone ever does care enough to read my blog and get offended, I want the lash-back on me, the responsible party, not my friends and acquaintances. Even though I've asked if I can mention certain people in detail, I can't be sure that they fully understand the gravity of public opinion if things do turn sour. Rednecks are ignorant, with deep-roots in both stigma and hypocrisy, and you simply can't stop stupid. 

Granted, the chances are slim to none, but knowledge is power. If someone knows that I love nipple torture, both giving and especially receiving, I could care less. But would the other party involved care that their participation is not only public, but that they've been identified?

Something to think about. Because even though this is the internet, it involves real people. 

The Mission

I'm going to try (try being the operative word) to post something once a day for the remainder of the year. I'd love to commit myself to something more challenging, like a year, but let's be real. I have commitment issues with motivation. It may strike me six months through that I want to be a hippie with no cell phone and no Internet, unlikely, but you never know.

So, it may be a story or a photo that I find interesting, it may be an outlook or just a word, but once a day at least, through the remainder of 2010, it's a date with my computer.

Cube

Remember elementary school, where on the first day you played silly games to break the ice and get to know everyone? This is something like that.


The Cube is a Kokology game meant to reflect your personality in an image. The different things, as they are added, create a portrait of yourself without actually considering yourself. I have shared my Cube with only a few people, but in an effort to break the ice, here it is.


The Desert:
A warm area at sunset, the sand is an intense terracotta with creams and siennas blending effortlessly together. The landscape gently slopes and the sand ripples in the wind, like a fluid entity that’s living of it’s own accord. Mountains rise in the distance, a soft purple color, dwarf-like on the horizon. Behind it is a canvas of pulsing streaks of blues, purples, reds and oranges, soft violet clouds that are barely wisps. Everything radiates color in it’s purest and most concentrated hue, and the sun sets as a blot of rust fading off the page. Shadows are cast by the mountains, failing to reach the place where I’m standing. There are no signs of life, no plants, no animals, just the desert.


The Cube: 
My cube is approximately 3 feet in height and hovers above the sand maybe 6 feet from my perspective to the right. It’s made of a blue metallic material that doesn’t sparkle or shimmer, but shines where the light hits it, almost a glossy finish that makes it look liquid instead of solid. The blue color is a vivid electric hue, neither light nor dark, but balanced. The cube doesn’t spin, or move, it simply floats with nothing to support it or connect it to anything.


The Ladder:
When the ladder is added the perspective changes, I’m standing on the ladder looking down at the cube. The ladder is a simple wooden A-frame that’s old and worn not from use, but by weather and time. By the looks of it, it wouldn’t be someones first choice of ladder if they had to use one but it serves it’s purpose. The grain is a sand-blasted brown with a grey patina, similar to an old fence or barn.


The Horse:
The horse, once added, races across the horizon, entering in from the right and arcing around the area where the cube is located. It’s far away, but not so far that you can’t pick up the details. It’s a glazed chestnut in color, a white streak down its face along it’s nose. Eighteen hands tall and musculature obviously pristine, the shadows and highlights can be seen as it runs, the dips and crests and movement as its muscles press the horse onward.


The Storm:
A storm broods over the mountains, clouds dark and ominous, lighting streaking across the sky, forking and dividing numerous times. The storm doesn’t move closer, and doesn’t effect the immediate surroundings from my perspective, the wind whistles through the area but other than that there is no change.


The Flowers:
I hold flowers in my hand, the angle that I’m looking down shows my arm up to my elbow, hand clutching at a tightly bunched bouquet. Made up of hyacinths, tiger lilies, hibiscuses, and little bits of plumeria at the perimeter, dozens are bound together, wound up with floral wire and tape.


As with all psychological games, all of the items correspond to a different element of your life. The desert represents the player's outlook on life, the cube relates to how the player views themselves, the ladder is indicative of family and friends or relationships, the horse represents lovers or passions, the storm indicates stresses and how it relates to the player's life, and the flowers relate to children or accomplishments.


You can find more information on the game here: The Cube


Although it can be interpreted thousands of ways, it gives a fairly accurate image of someone. I'm showing this so maybe you can get an idea of how I view the world. 


This blog is simply an outlet. After having made introductions, we can get to the more eventful things.


Until another time...