Spork
Active member
I have not! I will look into it!
The story of Spork.
- Thread starter Spork
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I have not! I will look into it!
Hannahfluke
Member
Brandon Sanderson is the author who finished the wheel of time series after Robert Jordan's death. Everyone I've spoken to has really loved his work on that series also, even die hard fans. I tried to read the Wheel of Time series but got bogged down in book 3 or 4 and couldn't bring myself to even finish that book (which is rare for me), let alone finish the series. I just finished reading Mistborn and have started on the second book. I enjoyed it a lot.
Reverie
Active member
Sanderson is soooo good! I've started reading the Stormlight books but I'm not caught up. I fell into a Neil Gaiman hole recently, which has distracted me.
I got stuck on . . . maybe it was Book 10 of Wheel of Time? I loved the first few but Jordan started to drag there toward the end. Sanderson saved the series.
Stephen King is a favorite of mine, but I can see how his work could be unnerving sometimes. His time travel book 11/22/63 is still really violent in some places, but less so than a lot of his books. IMO, his MOST fantasy book is #4 in the Dark Tower series: Wizard and Glass. It's almost worth a read as a standalone because it's a flashback and doesn't refer too much to the earlier books.
opalescent
Active member
I tried to read the first Game of Thrones book and quit when I realized I didn't give a damn about any of the characters.
I also love Carey's books. Very original I thought. I've also enjoyed Sanderson's work too.
I also love Carey's books. Very original I thought. I've also enjoyed Sanderson's work too.
Spork
Active member
I'm right there with ya on Wheel of Time. It was YEARS ago, I was in high school, and I just got so fed up with:
- How every book seemed to begin with like at least 1/4 of the entire volume of the novel was a recap of the bullshit you already read about.
- Endless braid tugging foolishness.
- Constantly bringing in more and more plot elements without ever resolving stuff, leaving you like, "Yeah but what happened with that one guy!? DAMMIT."
It was, I think, around book 4 or so that I gave up.
Now if none of you have read her, I am a HUGE fan of Juliet Marillier. She is a brilliant storyteller, even her "young adult" fiction is marvelous. Hell, even her short stories...and usually short stories don't do much for me... She's got a standalone called "Heart's Blood" that is a decent place to start, to get a feel for her, and see if you like her style. In other series, she takes old fairy tales like The Frog Prince, or The Six Swans, and turns them into these haunting epics that just really pull you in. I consider it lighter and a bit more fantastical compared to Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel books.
Has anyone read Carey's "Agent of Hel" books? They seemed to me, like she was trying to prove that she could do the lighter, modern, hip style as easily as the "pretentious" thing, if she wants. Reminds me of the Anita Blake books by Laurell K. Hamilton...and I'm really not sure if that's a good thing. I think she ought to stick with the lofty prose, personally. But I confess, the same part of me that loved the show, "Lost Girl" also loved the Agent of Hel series. Guilty pleasures.
I'll check out Mistborn.
Thanks for mentioning Neil Gaiman. He's one I keep forgetting that I need to read. Can anyone recommend somewhere to start? Also, holy hot damn, do I have a thing for a man with silver in his hair...
Reverie
Active member
Since it's timely, maybe start with American Gods and its spinoff Anansi Boys?
I also dig the silver! A running theme among my exes (including Moss) was silvering early, and actually Jasper, at only 30, is getting some around the temples and RAWRRRR!
I'm different from many alternative kinky people in that I am not a fantasy fan. Can't stand Gaiman. I find him so twee. I feel he looks down on his audience, insults them.
I also tried Hitchhiker's Guide again recently and wanted to throw it against the wall. I also tried The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Heinlein (mostly just to read about line marriages) and it was too techy for me, like you have to have Asperger's to like it. I have a copy of Stranger in a Strange Land. I read it in college, remember enjoying it. I might try it again.
I do love Stephen King though. I like horror and don't mind some gore. I also just finished reading Rosemary's Baby and LOVED it. I read it when it first came out (I was 12 and probably too young for it!). I adore the movie, I've seen it a few times. The guy that wrote it also wrote The Stepford Wives. Ira Levin.
But my main favorite are classic writers from the early to mid 20th century. I read a lot of them in college and am back rereading W Somerset Maugham. Read The Razor's Edge and The Moon and Sixpence just recently. I've got a copy of Of Human Bondage to read, and I just scored a big hardcover 2 book boxed set of his short stories at my local thrift, which I was very excited to find.
One of my top favorite authors is F Scott Fitzgerald. Followed by Colette, who was so valued in France, she was the first woman in France to have a state funeral granted to her, also having received many awards, many firsts for women, in her lifetime. She wrote many wonderful, very French novels, sensitive, poetic, off kilter, including the famous Gigi, which was made into a play starring Audrey Hepburn and portrayed in film by Leslie Caron. My favorite book, though, is The Ripening Seed. Colette was kinda kinky, and just way ahead of her time, bisexual, also an actress, mime and journalist. I named one of my Burmese cats (now deceased) after her.
I also tried Hitchhiker's Guide again recently and wanted to throw it against the wall. I also tried The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Heinlein (mostly just to read about line marriages) and it was too techy for me, like you have to have Asperger's to like it. I have a copy of Stranger in a Strange Land. I read it in college, remember enjoying it. I might try it again.
I do love Stephen King though. I like horror and don't mind some gore. I also just finished reading Rosemary's Baby and LOVED it. I read it when it first came out (I was 12 and probably too young for it!). I adore the movie, I've seen it a few times. The guy that wrote it also wrote The Stepford Wives. Ira Levin.
But my main favorite are classic writers from the early to mid 20th century. I read a lot of them in college and am back rereading W Somerset Maugham. Read The Razor's Edge and The Moon and Sixpence just recently. I've got a copy of Of Human Bondage to read, and I just scored a big hardcover 2 book boxed set of his short stories at my local thrift, which I was very excited to find.
One of my top favorite authors is F Scott Fitzgerald. Followed by Colette, who was so valued in France, she was the first woman in France to have a state funeral granted to her, also having received many awards, many firsts for women, in her lifetime. She wrote many wonderful, very French novels, sensitive, poetic, off kilter, including the famous Gigi, which was made into a play starring Audrey Hepburn and portrayed in film by Leslie Caron. My favorite book, though, is The Ripening Seed. Colette was kinda kinky, and just way ahead of her time, bisexual, also an actress, mime and journalist. I named one of my Burmese cats (now deceased) after her.
Spork
Active member
Well, I will let you know what I think of Gaiman once I've tried reading some.
I love me some swords and sorcery and dragons...I just want a bit more depth and descriptiveness than a lot of fantasy authors have to give. I want my senses very engaged, in my imagination, I want to be able to believe the characters' motivations, see who they are and where they're coming from.
Magdlyn, have you tried any Jacqueline Carey? I'd be curious as to what you think. I read her before I ever got into the actual kink scene, though like so many kinksters I think I've always been kinky to some degree, deep down, in what I like and want. But she lays out this sacred culture of consent, and the concept of a sort of spiritual transcendence through pain, along with lovely themes of sensuality, bisexuality, love and romance...yet those things don't completely take over the story. It's still a grand tale of political intrigue and adventure. It's loosely based on the geography and cultural centers of Europe, like it's easy to recognize that her heroine's homeland is fictionalized France. The woo woo magic stuff is used sparingly and it's never too technical. "Kushiel's Dart" is the first book, if you ever decide to give it a go.
RE: Reverie and men going silver... Well, Zen is of an age to be silvering anyways, coming up on 60 here in a few years, but he's got the lovely dark hair with silver at the temples and in his beard, which he only grew because I suggested it, and I love it. But it's like...I find him extremely sexy exactly as he is, but since I really fell in love with him from the inside out, I think I always will. Won't matter if he loses his hair or it's all white one day, or what.
I'm starting to get silver hairs, myself. But they are completely random. I asked Zen the other night, if he had a preference as to what I did with my hair in the future as it begins to go silver/grey. I could dye it any color, the possibilities will be pretty limitless once the dark brown goes. (I don't like to bleach it, so bright colors, while I adore them, have been a no-go for a while. Seems to kill my hair pretty badly.) I have no desire to be a blonde, ever, but I could keep it dark, let it go silver, dye it blue or red or any color natural or unnatural in the long run. He said, of course, "whatever you want" or something to that effect. I thought men had hair color preferences! Or maybe he just doesn't want to tell me. I'm thinking the easiest thing will be to do as Fire has done, and use henna. I did that once, and it seemed better for my hair than most dyes, and it lasted a good long time with not much maintenance. Red is a good color. The bright box-dye or Manic Panic type reds just don't last long enough for me.
And I can henna it even before it goes all silver, I'll just have more and more "highlights" as it changes over time.
*********
So I had a lovely damned freakout this morning. When I got divorced, I changed my last name. And since my main email address was <my first initial, dot, last name, at provider dot thing> I also changed it to <first initial, dot, maiden last name, at provider dot thing>
To substitute not applicable information for the real thing, just to illustrate, if I'd changed from Jane Smith to Jane Jones (not real names) it would be:
j.smith @ whatever.com
changed to
j.jones @ whatever.com
And I attempted to change my paypal to the new email address, but...someone had already claimed it! Seems Comcast recycles email addresses and will let you claim one that was once someone else's, just like a phone number. mmkay...
So I changed it to a secondary gmail account that I have.
Unfortunately a while back, someone who was buying a poster from me sent the money to that wrong email address, and it went to this random person I don't know who previously had the email address...and they would not reverse or refund the money or anything. Wonderful.
So I wrote that off, as it wasn't much money, and sent the guy the poster anyhow.
Well today, my ex just tried to send his monthly support payment to that wrong email address. It IS my main email for communications, and it's an easy mistake to make for anyone who knows that...and my old (similar) email was on my paypal before. This is nearly $500. Panic time. Paypal won't let you reverse a transaction. They would do nothing for him. After some scrambling and a lot of stress, he got a hold of his bank and they put a stop payment on it, so he can resend me the money tomorrow. Cost him $31 to do the stop payment, but worth it.
I, on the other hand, have had bloody well ENOUGH of this mistaken identity nonsense. I have been able to ascertain that this person abandoned her Ebay which also has this email address, some time ago. I called Paypal and got through to a security guy. He was...mostly useless. Not only can Paypal not refund, stop, or reverse, or redirect a payment that has been made to the wrong recipient...they also cannot remove that email from that woman's account. *sigh*
All he could do, is send communication to the backup contact info he's got on file for her, note the heck out of the account, and put "some restrictions" on her account until she contacts Paypal to resolve the whole mess.
SO FRUSTRATING.
I really hope that the rest of my day is less stressful than this.
I love me some swords and sorcery and dragons...I just want a bit more depth and descriptiveness than a lot of fantasy authors have to give. I want my senses very engaged, in my imagination, I want to be able to believe the characters' motivations, see who they are and where they're coming from.
Magdlyn, have you tried any Jacqueline Carey? I'd be curious as to what you think. I read her before I ever got into the actual kink scene, though like so many kinksters I think I've always been kinky to some degree, deep down, in what I like and want. But she lays out this sacred culture of consent, and the concept of a sort of spiritual transcendence through pain, along with lovely themes of sensuality, bisexuality, love and romance...yet those things don't completely take over the story. It's still a grand tale of political intrigue and adventure. It's loosely based on the geography and cultural centers of Europe, like it's easy to recognize that her heroine's homeland is fictionalized France. The woo woo magic stuff is used sparingly and it's never too technical. "Kushiel's Dart" is the first book, if you ever decide to give it a go.
RE: Reverie and men going silver... Well, Zen is of an age to be silvering anyways, coming up on 60 here in a few years, but he's got the lovely dark hair with silver at the temples and in his beard, which he only grew because I suggested it, and I love it. But it's like...I find him extremely sexy exactly as he is, but since I really fell in love with him from the inside out, I think I always will. Won't matter if he loses his hair or it's all white one day, or what.
I'm starting to get silver hairs, myself. But they are completely random. I asked Zen the other night, if he had a preference as to what I did with my hair in the future as it begins to go silver/grey. I could dye it any color, the possibilities will be pretty limitless once the dark brown goes. (I don't like to bleach it, so bright colors, while I adore them, have been a no-go for a while. Seems to kill my hair pretty badly.) I have no desire to be a blonde, ever, but I could keep it dark, let it go silver, dye it blue or red or any color natural or unnatural in the long run. He said, of course, "whatever you want" or something to that effect. I thought men had hair color preferences! Or maybe he just doesn't want to tell me. I'm thinking the easiest thing will be to do as Fire has done, and use henna. I did that once, and it seemed better for my hair than most dyes, and it lasted a good long time with not much maintenance. Red is a good color. The bright box-dye or Manic Panic type reds just don't last long enough for me.
And I can henna it even before it goes all silver, I'll just have more and more "highlights" as it changes over time.
*********
So I had a lovely damned freakout this morning. When I got divorced, I changed my last name. And since my main email address was <my first initial, dot, last name, at provider dot thing> I also changed it to <first initial, dot, maiden last name, at provider dot thing>
To substitute not applicable information for the real thing, just to illustrate, if I'd changed from Jane Smith to Jane Jones (not real names) it would be:
j.smith @ whatever.com
changed to
j.jones @ whatever.com
And I attempted to change my paypal to the new email address, but...someone had already claimed it! Seems Comcast recycles email addresses and will let you claim one that was once someone else's, just like a phone number. mmkay...
So I changed it to a secondary gmail account that I have.
Unfortunately a while back, someone who was buying a poster from me sent the money to that wrong email address, and it went to this random person I don't know who previously had the email address...and they would not reverse or refund the money or anything. Wonderful.
So I wrote that off, as it wasn't much money, and sent the guy the poster anyhow.
Well today, my ex just tried to send his monthly support payment to that wrong email address. It IS my main email for communications, and it's an easy mistake to make for anyone who knows that...and my old (similar) email was on my paypal before. This is nearly $500. Panic time. Paypal won't let you reverse a transaction. They would do nothing for him. After some scrambling and a lot of stress, he got a hold of his bank and they put a stop payment on it, so he can resend me the money tomorrow. Cost him $31 to do the stop payment, but worth it.
I, on the other hand, have had bloody well ENOUGH of this mistaken identity nonsense. I have been able to ascertain that this person abandoned her Ebay which also has this email address, some time ago. I called Paypal and got through to a security guy. He was...mostly useless. Not only can Paypal not refund, stop, or reverse, or redirect a payment that has been made to the wrong recipient...they also cannot remove that email from that woman's account. *sigh*
All he could do, is send communication to the backup contact info he's got on file for her, note the heck out of the account, and put "some restrictions" on her account until she contacts Paypal to resolve the whole mess.SO FRUSTRATING.
I really hope that the rest of my day is less stressful than this.
Reverie
Active member
Ah! You should totally do henna if super bright doesn't last well on you! I did henna for about a year. Mine turned out almost the exact shade of auburn that my sister's is naturally (which I always envied) and it seemed to last indefinitely, other than growing roots out. The red in the long part got more intense every time I touched up the roots. I LOVED IT, but I just eventually got bored of it and wanted to switch back to bright colors again. Here's what it looked like (cropped from a family photo in 2013).
My natural color is like . . . ashy medium-to-dark brown. Like dark at the roots and then gets lighter as it grows to the point where it is literally the same color as a mouse. Hence why I am always dyeing it.
Spork
Active member
I like my hair dark...I've done other stuff with it in the past, but if I bleach and/or box dye it, then I end up with dead, dry hair. My hair is always at risk of that, probably due to thyroid issues too. I can't use heat in my hair and I use 3 different conditioners.
I keep hoping that if at some point they decide to medicate my thyroid hormone levels maybe I'll see some relief from certain things like dry skin, dry hair, being cold all the damn time, getting fatigued rather easily...
Who knows?
But meanwhile... At one point, I had a woman who was going to a fancy stylist school do a cool thing to my hair. She took up the top layers of it, and dyed those black, and the layers beneath were a gradient of red to orange to yellow. So it was fire under black. And it was gorgeous...for like a couple of weeks. The red faded fast. I went and, for simplicity's sake, just dyed the whole underneath layer all bright red after that. Eventually it faded out to a coppery orange color under the dark, and I actually liked that alright. I kept the copper under black/brown for a long time, until it grew out. But it was far more dry and brittle than the natural hair coming in and replacing it.
I liked my hair looking glossy and healthy, more than changing its color.
But I am NEVER ok with having to dye it in any way, like once a week. That is way, way too much hassle.
At one point last year, Fire and I had a sort of girl date where she henna'ed my hair and we watched movies together. I was unimpressed at first, as it didn't seem to add much to the brown, for all that I sat with it on my head for hours. But later, in different light, the red highlights were nice, and more importantly, it seemed to last forever. I still, many months later, find long hairs that were probably silver/grey to begin with but got hit with the henna, in the shower, and are still red.
So...it's probably the way to go for me, long term. And I guess you can use different kinds, or different additives to get different colors. So that's cool.
I keep hoping that if at some point they decide to medicate my thyroid hormone levels maybe I'll see some relief from certain things like dry skin, dry hair, being cold all the damn time, getting fatigued rather easily...
Who knows?
But meanwhile... At one point, I had a woman who was going to a fancy stylist school do a cool thing to my hair. She took up the top layers of it, and dyed those black, and the layers beneath were a gradient of red to orange to yellow. So it was fire under black. And it was gorgeous...for like a couple of weeks. The red faded fast. I went and, for simplicity's sake, just dyed the whole underneath layer all bright red after that. Eventually it faded out to a coppery orange color under the dark, and I actually liked that alright. I kept the copper under black/brown for a long time, until it grew out. But it was far more dry and brittle than the natural hair coming in and replacing it.
I liked my hair looking glossy and healthy, more than changing its color.
But I am NEVER ok with having to dye it in any way, like once a week. That is way, way too much hassle.
At one point last year, Fire and I had a sort of girl date where she henna'ed my hair and we watched movies together. I was unimpressed at first, as it didn't seem to add much to the brown, for all that I sat with it on my head for hours. But later, in different light, the red highlights were nice, and more importantly, it seemed to last forever. I still, many months later, find long hairs that were probably silver/grey to begin with but got hit with the henna, in the shower, and are still red.
So...it's probably the way to go for me, long term. And I guess you can use different kinds, or different additives to get different colors. So that's cool.
Spork
Active member
Oh. Also. It's been a night and day of freaking out.
Last night, I was gathering the last of the things I needed for my bankruptcy. I needed to have my social security card handy, to take to the creditors' meeting in a couple weeks. I went to retrieve it from the "Important!" file in my cabinet, where it belongs. I...did not find it there.
So I tore apart my purse, my bedroom, and finally my vehicle, looking for the damn thing. Last time I remember having it to hand, I'd had it in my purse for a reason but decided I didn't want to be carrying it once I'd done what I needed to with it, so I "took it out and put it somewhere safe." Oh...Christ on a bike...I put it in the dreaded "somewhere safe" which means I've hidden it from myself BUT WHERE?? By 9:00, I'm frantic. I've looked everywhere. I decide...ok...I am going to calm down, and carefully, slowly, look in the most logical places. I am a logical person. I don't just put things wherever. I began with the "Important!" file folder. I carefully opened it, and carefully handled each piece of paper, one at a time... Kid's birth certificate...kid's shot record...marriage certificate...divorce decree...other kid's birth certificate...etc... And at the very end, under all the other things, was my bedamned social security card. In the first freakin' place I checked, but somehow did not see it.
Right. I'm ready to beat my head on a desk at this point.
I go out to my van to smoke a cigarette (yes, I am a bit off the quitwagon right now. Sue me.) and as I go to lock it, and walk away, the alarm starts to go off. I hit buttons on my fob. It does not stop. I let myself into the beeping, flashing, loud stupid behemoth, and start the engine. It stops. *sigh* I turn off the engine, remove the key, lock the door, and exit and walk away. It starts again. I go back, turn the engine on again. It takes it a few seconds this time, but it stops. I turn off the engine and remove the key. It starts again.
I hate my new van. I miss my old van.
After a few rounds of this bullshit I finally, like creeping away from a sleeping infant I have just put in a crib, manage to walk away from the stupid, STUPID thing without it going inscrutably bananas on me.
Fast forward to 2AM. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP...
I think, "Oh shit, that's my van!" and get out of bed, and go running outside in my shorts and tanktop (brr!) barefoot in the wet, halfway across the parking lot...and... Nope. It isn't my van at all. It's another vehicle at the other apartment complex across the street. Apparently the vehicular derp is contagious, gods help us. Grumbling, I go back to bed. (EDIT: The beeping continues, on and off, for hours, periodically pulling me out of sleep. I curse the day that mankind invented the car alarm.)
This, is my life right now.
Thank god I get to go love on my Zen tomorrow. I could really use some Zen in me about right fucking now.
Last night, I was gathering the last of the things I needed for my bankruptcy. I needed to have my social security card handy, to take to the creditors' meeting in a couple weeks. I went to retrieve it from the "Important!" file in my cabinet, where it belongs. I...did not find it there.
So I tore apart my purse, my bedroom, and finally my vehicle, looking for the damn thing. Last time I remember having it to hand, I'd had it in my purse for a reason but decided I didn't want to be carrying it once I'd done what I needed to with it, so I "took it out and put it somewhere safe." Oh...Christ on a bike...I put it in the dreaded "somewhere safe" which means I've hidden it from myself BUT WHERE?? By 9:00, I'm frantic. I've looked everywhere. I decide...ok...I am going to calm down, and carefully, slowly, look in the most logical places. I am a logical person. I don't just put things wherever. I began with the "Important!" file folder. I carefully opened it, and carefully handled each piece of paper, one at a time... Kid's birth certificate...kid's shot record...marriage certificate...divorce decree...other kid's birth certificate...etc... And at the very end, under all the other things, was my bedamned social security card. In the first freakin' place I checked, but somehow did not see it.
Right. I'm ready to beat my head on a desk at this point.
I go out to my van to smoke a cigarette (yes, I am a bit off the quitwagon right now. Sue me.) and as I go to lock it, and walk away, the alarm starts to go off. I hit buttons on my fob. It does not stop. I let myself into the beeping, flashing, loud stupid behemoth, and start the engine. It stops. *sigh* I turn off the engine, remove the key, lock the door, and exit and walk away. It starts again. I go back, turn the engine on again. It takes it a few seconds this time, but it stops. I turn off the engine and remove the key. It starts again.
I hate my new van. I miss my old van.
After a few rounds of this bullshit I finally, like creeping away from a sleeping infant I have just put in a crib, manage to walk away from the stupid, STUPID thing without it going inscrutably bananas on me.
Fast forward to 2AM. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP...
I think, "Oh shit, that's my van!" and get out of bed, and go running outside in my shorts and tanktop (brr!) barefoot in the wet, halfway across the parking lot...and... Nope. It isn't my van at all. It's another vehicle at the other apartment complex across the street. Apparently the vehicular derp is contagious, gods help us. Grumbling, I go back to bed. (EDIT: The beeping continues, on and off, for hours, periodically pulling me out of sleep. I curse the day that mankind invented the car alarm.)
This, is my life right now.
Thank god I get to go love on my Zen tomorrow. I could really use some Zen in me about right fucking now.
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Spork
Active member
Zen has given me a copy of Paul Simon's "Rhythms of the Saints" and I've been listening to that, it's so beautiful and calming. After all the crazy with missing social security card, car alarms, PayPal mishaps...I needed something nice and relaxing. Though I've observed a bit of "Tell me about it" when I'm stuck in slow traffic, worried about being late to work, and Paul Simon is singing, "I can't run, but I can walk much faster than this." over and over.
Yesterday evening, I got into it on Facebook with (joy!) two of the last trump supporters left in my life, my ex and a friend of his named Mark. I posted a silly article about how GWAR was mad at Kathy Griffin for stealing their bit, with the beheaded trump photo, since not only have GWAR beheaded and maimed rubber effigies of every president and candidate since forever, but they also beheaded one of trumpo before he was ever even elected. Also, there have been shirts and other things out there since he was elected showing him blowing his brains out or beheaded, this really is not an original idea.
So I was like, in my post, "Are you people even serious, being shocked about this? She is a comedian who did a thing once a year for a news station. And she's going to get probably a career boost from this publicity. Even before we get to the whole, righties did worse to effigies of Obama and Hillary argument...there are so many reasons why this whole matter is a non-thing worth no fucks being given. And on that note, who is a snowflake now? Come. On."
My ex said that he's only mad because an 11 year old was traumatized, and if someone had done similar to his kids with an effigy of his head, and upset them, he'd owe them a punch in the face. This...drops my jaw to the floor. Among the points I had to make, in response:
1. You have repeatedly expressed a complete lack of care, for children harmed by various kinds of warfare, and you hate the refugees and you don't give a damn if their kids die. Is it because Barron Trump is white, not brown?
2. You didn't care when Chelsea Clinton was called horrible things, about how that might be affecting her self esteem or her sensibilities. You didn't care how Obama's daughters might feel when people were hanging effigies of him. Is it because Barron Trump is male?
3. During your years of actively parenting your own kids, the biggest threat to their mental, physical and emotional wellbeing, was YOU. No one made them cry more, so you can spare me the "I'm protective because I'm a Dad" bullshit, son.
4. Our younger son attended his first GWAR show at age 11. An eleven year old kid, unless he is both stupid and absurdly delicate, should be able to tell a poorly crafted rubber effigy from the real thing, and not shed dramatic tears over it. First off, I call shenanigans. I suspect highly that this is just a way for them to garner sympathy. Secondly, if he's really that sensitive, then maybe Natasha could more carefully control the media he is exposed to in his ivory freakin' tower.
Oh, and along the lines of "you don't seem to care about traumatized people if they are female" how about all of the women and girls who wept and felt unsafe when a man who bragged about sexual assault got elected fucking president? He will never understand how much of a betrayal that felt like. It felt like my country collectively turned to me and said, "You know. Rape just isn't really a big deal. We should not only let rapists off the hook, we ought to maybe celebrate them."
My ex, and his friend, were all "She crossed a line." And I was all, "No. She didn't." She exercised her freedom of speech, and if she loses work because of it, that's within the rights of her employers, but otherwise...she had every right to do what she did.
That said, I do feel a sort of general sense of disgust at the complete lack of dignity and decorum that things have sunk to. She is yet another symptom of it in this. But it goes back to having to hear details I never wanted to know about Bill and Monica's sexual shenanigans, and it encompasses a hundred things since then for me. I feel like politics, media, social media, Hollywood...it's all become more of a middle school playground full of fart jokes and dick pics. At least Obama could behave in ways that conveyed intelligence and civility. At least he spoke in ways that I could respect. A little fucking dignity, is it really too much to ask, of adult humans in America in general, starting with the Great Covfefe himself? Apparently, yes. So if that's how it is...let the rubber heads roll. Let the entitled whiteboy tears fall. I've used up all of my outrage already.
Oh and meanwhile, he's apparently pulled us out of a global climate agreement and everyone thinks that this is the end of the world. OK, I believe in climate change, I do think we have an obligation to work on lessening our impact and sciencing up any possible solutions. What I'm not sure about, is if the initiatives that were part of this particular agreement were the things to save us, or if it was more a matter of big-business/global-politics circle jerkery that was meant to LOOK like it was "for the planet." I won't knee jerk to scream about how pulling out of Paris (which sounds like something that happened on a sex tape) means that NOBODY CARES ABOUT MOTHER GAIA and we're ALL GONNA DIE! Like maybe we could do better, than the particulars of that agreement, even? Unfortunately what DOES concern me, is that I strongly suspect that under this administration, better actions WON'T be taken. Whatever good is done, will be up to the states and the businesses. So perhaps we, as citizens, need to work harder to vote with our dollars, and to vote with our votes, to do whatever part we can.
So I did what I do, when I'm about damned fed up with social media.
I told stories about my cat instead. About how, as I sat tinkering with spreadsheets at home last night and listening to Paul Simon, he came dashing in, announced loudly to my bedroom, "Mao-rau-ROO!" and then went zooming off down the hallway again. Then he came running back in and hissed at my purse, and gave me a weird look. When I tried to pet him, he shook his head at me and scampered off. I speculated that perhaps he did not like Paul Simon.
Then the Worm King commented to ask if he rolled his "R"s. Said that his cats do that when the see a ghost. I said, Why yes, he did. Perhaps my musical choices summoned the spirit of Carrie Fisher.
Too soon?
Well today is a new day. It's Friday, it's payday, I go drop off the last of my legal stuff (I think/hope) and tonight I hope to get some much needed sexual affection from my lover. And maybe we'll go out, as there's fun stuff going on at the club tonight...but sex is my priority. Hopefully his, too.
And a much loved but rarely talked to friend has the next week off and she says she will call me, and I want VERY MUCH to talk to her, but I have so much going on. I'm busy busy busy from now until ... Wednesday? God. Well I will have to make the time.
Yesterday evening, I got into it on Facebook with (joy!) two of the last trump supporters left in my life, my ex and a friend of his named Mark. I posted a silly article about how GWAR was mad at Kathy Griffin for stealing their bit, with the beheaded trump photo, since not only have GWAR beheaded and maimed rubber effigies of every president and candidate since forever, but they also beheaded one of trumpo before he was ever even elected. Also, there have been shirts and other things out there since he was elected showing him blowing his brains out or beheaded, this really is not an original idea.
So I was like, in my post, "Are you people even serious, being shocked about this? She is a comedian who did a thing once a year for a news station. And she's going to get probably a career boost from this publicity. Even before we get to the whole, righties did worse to effigies of Obama and Hillary argument...there are so many reasons why this whole matter is a non-thing worth no fucks being given. And on that note, who is a snowflake now? Come. On."
My ex said that he's only mad because an 11 year old was traumatized, and if someone had done similar to his kids with an effigy of his head, and upset them, he'd owe them a punch in the face. This...drops my jaw to the floor. Among the points I had to make, in response:
1. You have repeatedly expressed a complete lack of care, for children harmed by various kinds of warfare, and you hate the refugees and you don't give a damn if their kids die. Is it because Barron Trump is white, not brown?
2. You didn't care when Chelsea Clinton was called horrible things, about how that might be affecting her self esteem or her sensibilities. You didn't care how Obama's daughters might feel when people were hanging effigies of him. Is it because Barron Trump is male?
3. During your years of actively parenting your own kids, the biggest threat to their mental, physical and emotional wellbeing, was YOU. No one made them cry more, so you can spare me the "I'm protective because I'm a Dad" bullshit, son.
4. Our younger son attended his first GWAR show at age 11. An eleven year old kid, unless he is both stupid and absurdly delicate, should be able to tell a poorly crafted rubber effigy from the real thing, and not shed dramatic tears over it. First off, I call shenanigans. I suspect highly that this is just a way for them to garner sympathy. Secondly, if he's really that sensitive, then maybe Natasha could more carefully control the media he is exposed to in his ivory freakin' tower.
Oh, and along the lines of "you don't seem to care about traumatized people if they are female" how about all of the women and girls who wept and felt unsafe when a man who bragged about sexual assault got elected fucking president? He will never understand how much of a betrayal that felt like. It felt like my country collectively turned to me and said, "You know. Rape just isn't really a big deal. We should not only let rapists off the hook, we ought to maybe celebrate them."
My ex, and his friend, were all "She crossed a line." And I was all, "No. She didn't." She exercised her freedom of speech, and if she loses work because of it, that's within the rights of her employers, but otherwise...she had every right to do what she did.
That said, I do feel a sort of general sense of disgust at the complete lack of dignity and decorum that things have sunk to. She is yet another symptom of it in this. But it goes back to having to hear details I never wanted to know about Bill and Monica's sexual shenanigans, and it encompasses a hundred things since then for me. I feel like politics, media, social media, Hollywood...it's all become more of a middle school playground full of fart jokes and dick pics. At least Obama could behave in ways that conveyed intelligence and civility. At least he spoke in ways that I could respect. A little fucking dignity, is it really too much to ask, of adult humans in America in general, starting with the Great Covfefe himself? Apparently, yes. So if that's how it is...let the rubber heads roll. Let the entitled whiteboy tears fall. I've used up all of my outrage already.
Oh and meanwhile, he's apparently pulled us out of a global climate agreement and everyone thinks that this is the end of the world. OK, I believe in climate change, I do think we have an obligation to work on lessening our impact and sciencing up any possible solutions. What I'm not sure about, is if the initiatives that were part of this particular agreement were the things to save us, or if it was more a matter of big-business/global-politics circle jerkery that was meant to LOOK like it was "for the planet." I won't knee jerk to scream about how pulling out of Paris (which sounds like something that happened on a sex tape) means that NOBODY CARES ABOUT MOTHER GAIA and we're ALL GONNA DIE! Like maybe we could do better, than the particulars of that agreement, even? Unfortunately what DOES concern me, is that I strongly suspect that under this administration, better actions WON'T be taken. Whatever good is done, will be up to the states and the businesses. So perhaps we, as citizens, need to work harder to vote with our dollars, and to vote with our votes, to do whatever part we can.
So I did what I do, when I'm about damned fed up with social media.
I told stories about my cat instead. About how, as I sat tinkering with spreadsheets at home last night and listening to Paul Simon, he came dashing in, announced loudly to my bedroom, "Mao-rau-ROO!" and then went zooming off down the hallway again. Then he came running back in and hissed at my purse, and gave me a weird look. When I tried to pet him, he shook his head at me and scampered off. I speculated that perhaps he did not like Paul Simon.
Then the Worm King commented to ask if he rolled his "R"s. Said that his cats do that when the see a ghost.
I said, Why yes, he did. Perhaps my musical choices summoned the spirit of Carrie Fisher.Too soon?
Well today is a new day. It's Friday, it's payday, I go drop off the last of my legal stuff (I think/hope) and tonight I hope to get some much needed sexual affection from my lover. And maybe we'll go out, as there's fun stuff going on at the club tonight...but sex is my priority. Hopefully his, too.
And a much loved but rarely talked to friend has the next week off and she says she will call me, and I want VERY MUCH to talk to her, but I have so much going on. I'm busy busy busy from now until ... Wednesday? God. Well I will have to make the time.
Shaya
New member
I'll never understand the politics of Donald. I can only attribute his success to the fact that by the definition of IQ, half the world has an IQ below 100.
Gotta somehow invent a democracy that can circumvent that flaw in society - the flaw where experts and layman alike get equal vote and by extension, somehow feel that gives them an equal voice on all issues.
Gotta somehow invent a democracy that can circumvent that flaw in society - the flaw where experts and layman alike get equal vote and by extension, somehow feel that gives them an equal voice on all issues.
FallenAngelina
Well-known member
We did that in 1788 and that failsafe is part of our electoral process. Unfortunately, we continue to choose not to honor this aspect of the founding fathers' intentions.
Spork
Active member
Bleh. Politics are so gross.
Oddly even after the FB blowup, my ex called me and we did not so much as mention that, which is good, because I was past wanting to talk about it. His call was to discuss matters with our son, but as usual it went into the area of where he is at in his mental state and what he thinks about relationships and all.
He keeps saying that he has lost his faith in relationships because nothing lasts forever. That everything he believed about relationships is false, after all, even if you don't break up, someone will eventually die, leaving someone behind, therefore all relationships are only a temporary thing and there is no security in them. So from now on, he'll treat every one as something not worth investing in. He'll make sure he never combines his living arrangements or financial affairs with another person. If he ever lives with a woman again, it will be in a place he owns with only his name on it, so that when it's over, he can kick her out.
And that he is learning in therapy and in group, that he cannot look to another person to save him, he's got to pull himself out of this.
I asked at one point if he'd gotten around to watching Game of Thrones. I know he would like it, or at least the man I was married to for nearly two decades would have enjoyed it, and he said, "No, maybe one day when I have someone to watch it with, I'll worry about getting into some TV show." After telling me that the vet center loaned out movies and he borrowed a copy of Blackhawk Down and was going to watch that. I guess the difference is that he has already seen it. So he'll rewatch things he's seen before, again and again, until he has a woman in his life, and ONLY THEN can he experience new media of any kind. Until then, he's resistant to seeing any new movies or TV.
But he is pulling himself out of this and he don't need nobody.
And if he cannot have a guarantee that they will cleave and cling to his side for all eternity, well then what is the point?
And he told me recently that what he really wants, is a woman who will fight for him. One who will get jealous in bars and fight other women to prove that he is HER MAN. And I was like, well, this unfortunately is not only asking too much, it's also part of how you sabotage your relationships. You don't believe that you're good enough to be loved or that women (abandoners, in the role of your bio mom) can be trusted to love you, so you push them away and make them fight their way back to your side again and again, and no one wants to live with that kind of constant punishment in a relationship. It's this constant demand that a woman prove and prove and prove, by suffering all kinds of hostility and showing a willingness to fight for it, that she REALLY loves you... And it's just going to be too much to ask of anyone, in the long run.
I tried to explain that to him, at some point in the middle of last week. But it didn't sink in very well, or maybe like 3 out of 10 words did and then he twisted them to suit his own narrative of how fucked up everyone else is and how he's the victim and his life is doomed to suffering and misery.
I'm to the point where I don't even waste my breath trying to explain to him how kooky he sounds to me anymore, or at least I felt that way yesterday. I just remind myself that my care is misplaced, and this man is not my problem now. Like I am coming out of a phase where I wished him well enough to hope he could "get it" and try to enjoy his life in some way, but now I just don't even have the energy for that. I'm running out of steam. And he's got counselors and group up there...what scares me is that what he seems to be taking from "self esteem group" is more and more "I realize now that I'm a Good Guy and you didn't appreciate me, nothing was my fault and I'm right that no woman can meet my completely realistic needs and expectations, but I deserve better. So if women are such shit, I'll just use them and discard them, it's all they deserve from someone as amazing as me."
He told me yesterday, "There are some really good things about me that you never appreciated. Were you ever afraid I'd just start roughing you up? Beating on you? A lot of men, turns out, are woman beaters. You ever think of that? At least I didn't hit you."
I could have said so many things to this...anything from talking about BDSM, which he is aware that I'm into now and all, to saying something about how NOT being an abuser doesn't make you a great guy, it's kind of a minimum requirement, jackass. But then, BDSM makes no sense to him. When I talk about consent culture, he actually recoils. To him, violence has its place in anger and destruction, and violence without anger and destruction is "sick." But if you get angry and do actual violent harm, that is something worth bragging about.
I doubt if he could comprehend that I feel safer BY FAR with the man who hurts me, but does not harm me, that I completely believe that Zen would not lose control in anger and do something terrible to me...than I ever felt with him, even though he never raised a hand to me. He does not understand the difference between what is healthy and what isn't.
I am very much better off with him out of my life, and away from my life.
And I find myself more favorably disposed to the idea of moving to Phoenix with Zen one day in the years to come, because Old Wolf has been saying a lot that his goal, after he gets a job up in Oregon and gets his finances in order and such, is to come move back to Colorado. He also says he's waiting for his old battle buddy's girlfriend (of many years) to either die or move out, so he can live with his friend. I wonder if his friend really wants him bunking down with him. And although I said before that if my younger son, Q, wanted to live with his Dad then I'd respect that choice...I am really thinking now that even if he sounds "calmer" some of the things he is saying now are just as toxic as ever, and I don't want my son around him. I don't know if I have a right to actually DENY them a relationship, but if I can gently let life keep them apart until he is older and less impressionable, that might be a wise choice.
The kid forgets how his Dad treated him. I don't.
On a happier note, my weekend was WONDERFUL. Friday night, I got the sex I needed and craved from my beloved Zen, and we went out to Voodoo for the First Fridays jam night. Then Saturday, we woke up and he worked on pleasing me, a couple of sessions...stimulation and overstimulation, to the point where my muscles were all spazzy and I was unsteady on my feet, and fine and achy and sore in all my parts. Then we went to a play party and did a lovely impact scene where he gave some instruction to a friend who is new to the community. I am surprised I could even walk after all of that. Yesterday, I ran some errands, and got a good start on a new art piece, and then watched Rocky Horror with Zen and had dinner at my apartment. He had not seen it, without the audience involvement, which does tend to overwrite the content of the film and make it hard to enjoy for its own merits.
Tim Curry is so freakin' cool. Just saying. I'm not normally that awed by celebrities, but I have loved that man in every role he's ever played.
Oddly even after the FB blowup, my ex called me and we did not so much as mention that, which is good, because I was past wanting to talk about it. His call was to discuss matters with our son, but as usual it went into the area of where he is at in his mental state and what he thinks about relationships and all.
He keeps saying that he has lost his faith in relationships because nothing lasts forever. That everything he believed about relationships is false, after all, even if you don't break up, someone will eventually die, leaving someone behind, therefore all relationships are only a temporary thing and there is no security in them. So from now on, he'll treat every one as something not worth investing in. He'll make sure he never combines his living arrangements or financial affairs with another person. If he ever lives with a woman again, it will be in a place he owns with only his name on it, so that when it's over, he can kick her out.
And that he is learning in therapy and in group, that he cannot look to another person to save him, he's got to pull himself out of this.
I asked at one point if he'd gotten around to watching Game of Thrones. I know he would like it, or at least the man I was married to for nearly two decades would have enjoyed it, and he said, "No, maybe one day when I have someone to watch it with, I'll worry about getting into some TV show." After telling me that the vet center loaned out movies and he borrowed a copy of Blackhawk Down and was going to watch that. I guess the difference is that he has already seen it. So he'll rewatch things he's seen before, again and again, until he has a woman in his life, and ONLY THEN can he experience new media of any kind. Until then, he's resistant to seeing any new movies or TV.
But he is pulling himself out of this and he don't need nobody.
And if he cannot have a guarantee that they will cleave and cling to his side for all eternity, well then what is the point?
And he told me recently that what he really wants, is a woman who will fight for him. One who will get jealous in bars and fight other women to prove that he is HER MAN. And I was like, well, this unfortunately is not only asking too much, it's also part of how you sabotage your relationships. You don't believe that you're good enough to be loved or that women (abandoners, in the role of your bio mom) can be trusted to love you, so you push them away and make them fight their way back to your side again and again, and no one wants to live with that kind of constant punishment in a relationship. It's this constant demand that a woman prove and prove and prove, by suffering all kinds of hostility and showing a willingness to fight for it, that she REALLY loves you... And it's just going to be too much to ask of anyone, in the long run.
I tried to explain that to him, at some point in the middle of last week. But it didn't sink in very well, or maybe like 3 out of 10 words did and then he twisted them to suit his own narrative of how fucked up everyone else is and how he's the victim and his life is doomed to suffering and misery.
I'm to the point where I don't even waste my breath trying to explain to him how kooky he sounds to me anymore, or at least I felt that way yesterday. I just remind myself that my care is misplaced, and this man is not my problem now. Like I am coming out of a phase where I wished him well enough to hope he could "get it" and try to enjoy his life in some way, but now I just don't even have the energy for that. I'm running out of steam. And he's got counselors and group up there...what scares me is that what he seems to be taking from "self esteem group" is more and more "I realize now that I'm a Good Guy and you didn't appreciate me, nothing was my fault and I'm right that no woman can meet my completely realistic needs and expectations, but I deserve better. So if women are such shit, I'll just use them and discard them, it's all they deserve from someone as amazing as me."
He told me yesterday, "There are some really good things about me that you never appreciated. Were you ever afraid I'd just start roughing you up? Beating on you? A lot of men, turns out, are woman beaters. You ever think of that? At least I didn't hit you."
I could have said so many things to this...anything from talking about BDSM, which he is aware that I'm into now and all, to saying something about how NOT being an abuser doesn't make you a great guy, it's kind of a minimum requirement, jackass. But then, BDSM makes no sense to him. When I talk about consent culture, he actually recoils. To him, violence has its place in anger and destruction, and violence without anger and destruction is "sick." But if you get angry and do actual violent harm, that is something worth bragging about.
I doubt if he could comprehend that I feel safer BY FAR with the man who hurts me, but does not harm me, that I completely believe that Zen would not lose control in anger and do something terrible to me...than I ever felt with him, even though he never raised a hand to me. He does not understand the difference between what is healthy and what isn't.
I am very much better off with him out of my life, and away from my life.
And I find myself more favorably disposed to the idea of moving to Phoenix with Zen one day in the years to come, because Old Wolf has been saying a lot that his goal, after he gets a job up in Oregon and gets his finances in order and such, is to come move back to Colorado. He also says he's waiting for his old battle buddy's girlfriend (of many years) to either die or move out, so he can live with his friend. I wonder if his friend really wants him bunking down with him. And although I said before that if my younger son, Q, wanted to live with his Dad then I'd respect that choice...I am really thinking now that even if he sounds "calmer" some of the things he is saying now are just as toxic as ever, and I don't want my son around him. I don't know if I have a right to actually DENY them a relationship, but if I can gently let life keep them apart until he is older and less impressionable, that might be a wise choice.
The kid forgets how his Dad treated him. I don't.
On a happier note, my weekend was WONDERFUL. Friday night, I got the sex I needed and craved from my beloved Zen, and we went out to Voodoo for the First Fridays jam night. Then Saturday, we woke up and he worked on pleasing me, a couple of sessions...stimulation and overstimulation, to the point where my muscles were all spazzy and I was unsteady on my feet, and fine and achy and sore in all my parts. Then we went to a play party and did a lovely impact scene where he gave some instruction to a friend who is new to the community. I am surprised I could even walk after all of that. Yesterday, I ran some errands, and got a good start on a new art piece, and then watched Rocky Horror with Zen and had dinner at my apartment. He had not seen it, without the audience involvement, which does tend to overwrite the content of the film and make it hard to enjoy for its own merits.
Tim Curry is so freakin' cool. Just saying. I'm not normally that awed by celebrities, but I have loved that man in every role he's ever played.
Spork
Active member
I am tired today.
I had coffee yesterday which I should not have done, just to keep myself going through the evening, and I went to a "Leather Philosophy Discussion Group." Which is the woman who used to run the club getting a core group together once a month, and I feel very good to be included in that. I was sad to think, when she parted ways with Voodoo, that I might not see her much anymore. She does do tea dates and such with people, if you get a hold of her and set it up, but my free time (aside from activities I've penciled in and scheduled) is rare and when it happens I often just want to chill at home. The obvious question is why I don't pencil a date with her in somewhere, but I'm also concerned about my need to make my son top priority in the next couple of months as he works on his summer school work...so there is always that fear that I'd arrange to meet with someone and then have to change my plans last minute and let them down. It's easier to cancel my attendance at a big social event where I've only RSVP'ed "maybe" than it is to cancel a specific plan to spend time with a specific person.
So anyhow, we met up at a park, 14 of us, and had our talk, and then some of us lingered for a while...I got home shortly after 10. Unfortunately between the warm temperatures (blanket on...blanket off...blanket on...blanket off...foot out...foot in...etc) and the remaining caffeine in my system, and later the cat who wanted me up at 3AM for some damn reason, the little asshole, I just did not sleep well at all. So I'm tired today, but I don't expect any relief from that. I have to go after work, and get my son from the friends' house he's been staying with. Pack up a minimal amount of his belongings and get him moved in onto my couch, his computer set up so that he can do his classes and everything.
However, today, I believe, I will be getting to have lunch with Zen, so that is very good. I always look forward to seeing him.
I've had some fears and doubts and insecurities yesterday and today but they are...I dunno, not worth going into detail about I guess. Part of it is just life and the general uncertainties that surround me. Part of it is being a "words of affirmation" person in a relationship with someone who isn't....I'm prone to making these elaborate love declarations, and there are times they fall into what feels (to me) like a sightly awkward space, and then I question if I have gone too far, made a fool of myself, said the wrong things, or too much... Yeah, that's what it is to be too sensitive to words, not only words spoken but how my words are received. And I am just very tired and feeling a little fragile today anyhow. But last night, as I drove up the highway in the dark...a simple phrase drifted through my mind, one that just floated up when I was not trying too hard to order my thoughts around...
"Be easy with it."
Just relax, is what this phrase says, just live, just go on and put your one foot in front of the other and on to the next step and the next, and don't worry so much about tomorrow...just...be easy with it. Take your happiness today, be here now, and don't fear for the future and quit trying to plan and just... Just relax, it's fine. Things are ok. Not even, "things will BE ok"...I need to find a place where I'm just not even thinking about how anything is going to be. Only how things ARE, right now in whatever moment that I inhabit.
And that is probably very good advice for me to give myself, because I feel right now, too tired to take on the world. The world isn't going anywhere. And for the moment, neither is Zen. I need to simply, be easy with it, for today.
I had coffee yesterday which I should not have done, just to keep myself going through the evening, and I went to a "Leather Philosophy Discussion Group." Which is the woman who used to run the club getting a core group together once a month, and I feel very good to be included in that. I was sad to think, when she parted ways with Voodoo, that I might not see her much anymore. She does do tea dates and such with people, if you get a hold of her and set it up, but my free time (aside from activities I've penciled in and scheduled) is rare and when it happens I often just want to chill at home. The obvious question is why I don't pencil a date with her in somewhere, but I'm also concerned about my need to make my son top priority in the next couple of months as he works on his summer school work...so there is always that fear that I'd arrange to meet with someone and then have to change my plans last minute and let them down. It's easier to cancel my attendance at a big social event where I've only RSVP'ed "maybe" than it is to cancel a specific plan to spend time with a specific person.
So anyhow, we met up at a park, 14 of us, and had our talk, and then some of us lingered for a while...I got home shortly after 10. Unfortunately between the warm temperatures (blanket on...blanket off...blanket on...blanket off...foot out...foot in...etc) and the remaining caffeine in my system, and later the cat who wanted me up at 3AM for some damn reason, the little asshole, I just did not sleep well at all. So I'm tired today, but I don't expect any relief from that. I have to go after work, and get my son from the friends' house he's been staying with. Pack up a minimal amount of his belongings and get him moved in onto my couch, his computer set up so that he can do his classes and everything.
However, today, I believe, I will be getting to have lunch with Zen, so that is very good. I always look forward to seeing him.
I've had some fears and doubts and insecurities yesterday and today but they are...I dunno, not worth going into detail about I guess. Part of it is just life and the general uncertainties that surround me. Part of it is being a "words of affirmation" person in a relationship with someone who isn't....I'm prone to making these elaborate love declarations, and there are times they fall into what feels (to me) like a sightly awkward space, and then I question if I have gone too far, made a fool of myself, said the wrong things, or too much... Yeah, that's what it is to be too sensitive to words, not only words spoken but how my words are received. And I am just very tired and feeling a little fragile today anyhow. But last night, as I drove up the highway in the dark...a simple phrase drifted through my mind, one that just floated up when I was not trying too hard to order my thoughts around...
"Be easy with it."
Just relax, is what this phrase says, just live, just go on and put your one foot in front of the other and on to the next step and the next, and don't worry so much about tomorrow...just...be easy with it. Take your happiness today, be here now, and don't fear for the future and quit trying to plan and just... Just relax, it's fine. Things are ok. Not even, "things will BE ok"...I need to find a place where I'm just not even thinking about how anything is going to be. Only how things ARE, right now in whatever moment that I inhabit.
And that is probably very good advice for me to give myself, because I feel right now, too tired to take on the world. The world isn't going anywhere. And for the moment, neither is Zen. I need to simply, be easy with it, for today.
Spork
Active member
Was thinking about some sex stuff...ideas, positions I like, additional things to be done in those positions, etc. Zen knows what I'm talking about here as I sent him a big long message about it. But I'm contemplating, "doggy" position or most any that is face down for me, I should really consider toning my lower abdominal muscles. Seems...and I'll try to describe this without being excessively graphic...that when gravity operates on that area, my meat and muscle sort of hangs down in those positions, which makes a particular spot a lot harder to get to and also I am thinking, opens things up inside to perhaps an undesirable degree. I'm sitting here thinking, so...in the meantime, because even if I found the right exercises to tone those areas, I wonder if I could get like a small basketball or something and strap it tightly in place to press inwards from the lower belly? I need a semi-hard object about the size of two fists held together, ideally. I mean, I know that when he is doing stuff with his hands, putting pressure there like right above the bone allows for better stimulation for me. And now I wonder if anyone has already made some kind of an apparatus for this, or if maybe I should, to include perhaps even strong vibration or something, and if that might be interesting... Just thinking.
I think of all kinds of things I'd like to build onto furniture for us one day. I have a creative mind...just unfortunate that I also have two teenagers to wrangle for a few more years, and limited time and money and space and energy. C'est la vie, I suppose.
So yesterday Zen and I went to HuHot Mongolian Grill again, which is yum, and I stuffed myself, as one does at such a place, and spent the rest of the afternoon fighting off a food coma. I did manage to go fetch my son, and get him installed on the couch. He seems enthusiastic about his summer classes. He is reading Beowulf for his British Literature class. And he got to work right away. He says that since the class is self paced, he is able to work ahead as far as he likes, so he is going to try to finish early. It is important to him that he is able to go back to the friends' house (where he was living before) to play D&D on the weekends, so he is fairly well motivated to meet, if not exceed, his goals each week. So that is good. We are off, at least, to a positive start.
Been giving more thought to the weight and importance of words in my world. That really is a huge deal. I wish I had known just how big a deal, a long time ago. I just brushed against an example of it moments ago, while typing the last paragraph. I nearly said that HuHot's food is "delicious" and then I had a bad feeling and I changed the word. Why? Because Zen wrote me a message talking about porn he likes, described a particular sort of scene, and called it delicious. (This was MONTHS ago. But it is associated in my brain since then, I can't hear the word without thinking of that.) Why does that matter? Now that word is tied to my inner feeling that I'm not as exciting as porn. We are talking about involving it more in our sexual activities. That doesn't bother me at all. Because I'm still very present and involved. And because the pushing of my comfort with us both engaged in stuff with each other actually does turn me on. It becomes a thing that helps us both. I don't hear Zen talk about me to others, I don't know how he sounds, when or if he does. He talks TO me mostly as just a person to another person, but having the feeling that he lights up with excitement and enthusiasm talking about porn or celebrities, as I've never heard him talk about me... That's where the disturbance lies.
I imagine him actually enjoying porn: No hurt. I imagine him speaking with enthusiasm about it: Hurt. I imagine him at a convention, going to meet a pretty celebrity and get her autograph: No hurt. I imagine him talking about how amazing she is and how this stunning woman once touched his arm or something: Hurt. Makes me feel like his old plowhorse being compared to a unicorn he sighted for a few seconds. I'll give you a lot more than they will, though it won't count for much since I'm not as special as they are. That's the underlying idea in it. Just a wish I could be so special, and a feeling that I can't. I have run that down already, and identified the concept...but I think it's very interesting how there are significant areas of this that one might think WOULD be triggery, but are not.
I feel like I'm poking around, "does this hurt? does this hurt?" like a doctor would, to try and work out where the dysfunction or the discomfort exists. As usual, I feel more comfortable doing so when I'm not feeling emotionally delicate, like yesterday would have been a bad time for it, I was all tired and somewhat out of sorts. Drop was affecting me a bit. Today, it's a fine lovely day outside and I feel awake and healthy and good, optimistic about a few things and just generally positive. Thinking about this won't be enough to alter my mood, and it's safe to poke around in my brain and identify where the sore spots are.
Conversely there are a few times that he has said things to me, which I will replay over and over in my mind, along with the way that he looks at and touches me, to keep myself feeling good. He has started to speak directly into my ear during sex, and that absolutely melts me. Zen has an amazing voice. He could take hold of my mind and my will like gripping a leash or cracking a whip just by saying pretty much anything directly into my ear, anytime. But that is...maybe different. The sound of his voice, more than the words spoken.
Also an interesting observation, from what I have watched, I prefer porn made in other languages. German is good. Japanese is ok. English dialog tends to annoy me. I found one that I liked once, but I was watching with the sound off because my son was in the next room. Later, another time, when he was in the shower and wouldn't hear, I turned the sound on...and I was actually very disappointed, although the one woman had a nice accent that I liked, her choice of words actually put me off somewhat. They'll never be able to speak to the scripts in my mind, and the things they say sound so...contrived. To me at least. Of course if it's in another language, and I really don't know that language at all, they could be saying anything. Zen has (very kindly and conscientiously as he is) tried to find porn I might like. I wish he would just find porn he really likes a lot and force (by restraint and command) me to enjoy it with him, while we do things...it is the fact that he is "making me" along with the fact of awareness of his general arousal that combined would really do it for me.
Anyhow.
I find myself very glad that Zen is at least a "touch" guy. (Love Languages)... Because I definitely do speak that one, it's a very close second to Words of Affirmation for me. Those are signals that I can definitely receive. I just have to be careful really, that I don't feel overly sensitive to words (spoken or not spoken) that I know he does not mean to weigh down with meaning.
Possibly the most important thing here in this...is that I look at these things, and I think about these things, because I continue to be vulnerable to Zen and that matters. I remember first talking to him about how scary that was to me. It is a critical part of me being in love with someone. If I am not vulnerable to someone, they can't hurt me...I can be just as involved with them, but shrug off anything they say or do. If I am too sensitive to hurts, real or perceived, then I start to withdraw vulnerability. It is a form of emotional retreat and defense. But it destroys intimacy and desire for me. That vulnerability is a vital part of feeling truly connected in the way that I love, without it...well, the cold attitude that was my part of the failed marriage I experienced is testament to what happens when I cannot be vulnerable. My lover might not want me to feel emotionally sensitive or unhappy, because of anything that he says or does...but the fact that I do feel real feelings, and I am sensitive to him, means that connection is still very much alive. It isn't entirely a bad thing.
I sometimes worry that Zen will see me processing this stuff and think, "God, she's feeling bad again, and I didn't do anything wrong, I don't want her to feel this way and I don't know how to fix it." Or something. An expected masculine response to feminine processing behavior, maybe. But it is no bad thing, all of this, the thing to really worry about and look out for is me saying, "He does what he does and I don't want anything to do with it and I don't care." When I don't care, and cannot be hurt...that is an emotionally withdrawn attitude. An unraveling connection. He could find the right words to send me from time to time and that would help, but I don't think that is how Zen is wired mostly...and I don't wish to task him with it. Makes me feel needy. So I just use my own words and blogspace and I process.
I think of all kinds of things I'd like to build onto furniture for us one day. I have a creative mind...just unfortunate that I also have two teenagers to wrangle for a few more years, and limited time and money and space and energy. C'est la vie, I suppose.
So yesterday Zen and I went to HuHot Mongolian Grill again, which is yum, and I stuffed myself, as one does at such a place, and spent the rest of the afternoon fighting off a food coma. I did manage to go fetch my son, and get him installed on the couch. He seems enthusiastic about his summer classes. He is reading Beowulf for his British Literature class. And he got to work right away. He says that since the class is self paced, he is able to work ahead as far as he likes, so he is going to try to finish early. It is important to him that he is able to go back to the friends' house (where he was living before) to play D&D on the weekends, so he is fairly well motivated to meet, if not exceed, his goals each week. So that is good. We are off, at least, to a positive start.
Been giving more thought to the weight and importance of words in my world. That really is a huge deal. I wish I had known just how big a deal, a long time ago. I just brushed against an example of it moments ago, while typing the last paragraph. I nearly said that HuHot's food is "delicious" and then I had a bad feeling and I changed the word. Why? Because Zen wrote me a message talking about porn he likes, described a particular sort of scene, and called it delicious. (This was MONTHS ago. But it is associated in my brain since then, I can't hear the word without thinking of that.) Why does that matter? Now that word is tied to my inner feeling that I'm not as exciting as porn. We are talking about involving it more in our sexual activities. That doesn't bother me at all. Because I'm still very present and involved. And because the pushing of my comfort with us both engaged in stuff with each other actually does turn me on. It becomes a thing that helps us both. I don't hear Zen talk about me to others, I don't know how he sounds, when or if he does. He talks TO me mostly as just a person to another person, but having the feeling that he lights up with excitement and enthusiasm talking about porn or celebrities, as I've never heard him talk about me... That's where the disturbance lies.
I imagine him actually enjoying porn: No hurt. I imagine him speaking with enthusiasm about it: Hurt. I imagine him at a convention, going to meet a pretty celebrity and get her autograph: No hurt. I imagine him talking about how amazing she is and how this stunning woman once touched his arm or something: Hurt. Makes me feel like his old plowhorse being compared to a unicorn he sighted for a few seconds. I'll give you a lot more than they will, though it won't count for much since I'm not as special as they are. That's the underlying idea in it. Just a wish I could be so special, and a feeling that I can't. I have run that down already, and identified the concept...but I think it's very interesting how there are significant areas of this that one might think WOULD be triggery, but are not.
I feel like I'm poking around, "does this hurt? does this hurt?" like a doctor would, to try and work out where the dysfunction or the discomfort exists. As usual, I feel more comfortable doing so when I'm not feeling emotionally delicate, like yesterday would have been a bad time for it, I was all tired and somewhat out of sorts. Drop was affecting me a bit. Today, it's a fine lovely day outside and I feel awake and healthy and good, optimistic about a few things and just generally positive. Thinking about this won't be enough to alter my mood, and it's safe to poke around in my brain and identify where the sore spots are.
Conversely there are a few times that he has said things to me, which I will replay over and over in my mind, along with the way that he looks at and touches me, to keep myself feeling good. He has started to speak directly into my ear during sex, and that absolutely melts me. Zen has an amazing voice. He could take hold of my mind and my will like gripping a leash or cracking a whip just by saying pretty much anything directly into my ear, anytime. But that is...maybe different. The sound of his voice, more than the words spoken.
Also an interesting observation, from what I have watched, I prefer porn made in other languages. German is good. Japanese is ok. English dialog tends to annoy me. I found one that I liked once, but I was watching with the sound off because my son was in the next room. Later, another time, when he was in the shower and wouldn't hear, I turned the sound on...and I was actually very disappointed, although the one woman had a nice accent that I liked, her choice of words actually put me off somewhat. They'll never be able to speak to the scripts in my mind, and the things they say sound so...contrived. To me at least. Of course if it's in another language, and I really don't know that language at all, they could be saying anything. Zen has (very kindly and conscientiously as he is) tried to find porn I might like. I wish he would just find porn he really likes a lot and force (by restraint and command) me to enjoy it with him, while we do things...it is the fact that he is "making me" along with the fact of awareness of his general arousal that combined would really do it for me.
Anyhow.
I find myself very glad that Zen is at least a "touch" guy. (Love Languages)... Because I definitely do speak that one, it's a very close second to Words of Affirmation for me. Those are signals that I can definitely receive. I just have to be careful really, that I don't feel overly sensitive to words (spoken or not spoken) that I know he does not mean to weigh down with meaning.
Possibly the most important thing here in this...is that I look at these things, and I think about these things, because I continue to be vulnerable to Zen and that matters. I remember first talking to him about how scary that was to me. It is a critical part of me being in love with someone. If I am not vulnerable to someone, they can't hurt me...I can be just as involved with them, but shrug off anything they say or do. If I am too sensitive to hurts, real or perceived, then I start to withdraw vulnerability. It is a form of emotional retreat and defense. But it destroys intimacy and desire for me. That vulnerability is a vital part of feeling truly connected in the way that I love, without it...well, the cold attitude that was my part of the failed marriage I experienced is testament to what happens when I cannot be vulnerable. My lover might not want me to feel emotionally sensitive or unhappy, because of anything that he says or does...but the fact that I do feel real feelings, and I am sensitive to him, means that connection is still very much alive. It isn't entirely a bad thing.
I sometimes worry that Zen will see me processing this stuff and think, "God, she's feeling bad again, and I didn't do anything wrong, I don't want her to feel this way and I don't know how to fix it." Or something. An expected masculine response to feminine processing behavior, maybe. But it is no bad thing, all of this, the thing to really worry about and look out for is me saying, "He does what he does and I don't want anything to do with it and I don't care." When I don't care, and cannot be hurt...that is an emotionally withdrawn attitude. An unraveling connection. He could find the right words to send me from time to time and that would help, but I don't think that is how Zen is wired mostly...and I don't wish to task him with it. Makes me feel needy. So I just use my own words and blogspace and I process.
Reverie
Active member
I feel you on preferring porn with the sound off. It sounds so cheesy to me! I watch it only SUPER rarely, but when I do, I never have the sound on. Oddly, I like written erotica the best, maybe just because even the not wonderfully written stuff is a lot more literate than porn dialogue!
Spork
Active member
I sometimes think, that as much as I enjoy writing, I should really write my own smut. I have friends who do, certainly. *shrug* I dunno.
I actually have in the past, in fact I have a gift for putting content into rhyme schemes and making poetry of it which I've also done. But I occasionally have had points where I'm suddenly intensely avoidant of my own sexuality (this used to happen occasionally when Old Wolf was in my life, for reasons I've talked about here already.) I'd go through a phase where I wrote and drew naughty things, then I would become horrified of my own stuff and seek it all out and destroy it with extreme prejudice, whether it was good or not, it would fill me with disgust and terror. I literally did not feel safe so long as any of it physically existed. It was a feeling that the stuff would be used to harm me in some way. I did the same with pics and videos I'd done for him at one point. Just sought them all out and burned them.
Sometimes I still worry about creating stuff and putting it "out there" like on fetlife, where who knows who might see it.
Yet a 3rd on the preferring written smut to visual, so there's that.
And I will admit here that Knight almost has me talked into one of the liberator chaise/couch/sex furniture things - I think the name of it is Esse - just for more fun with positions. We'll see if it ever happens - I'm not sure that I want the most money I've ever spent on a piece of furniture (ok, not counting a mattress) to be on a sex toy... ;-)
And I will admit here that Knight almost has me talked into one of the liberator chaise/couch/sex furniture things - I think the name of it is Esse - just for more fun with positions. We'll see if it ever happens - I'm not sure that I want the most money I've ever spent on a piece of furniture (ok, not counting a mattress) to be on a sex toy... ;-)