… in which I talk about a bunch of stuff that I’ve been thinking about but haven’t posted yet, somewhat like clearing my mental pockets before the start of a new week.
NaNoWriMo… I’ve decided to do this crazy month-long writing challenge. The goal, 50,000 words written by 11:59 pm on November 30th. Daily average, 1667 words. National Novel Writing Month, a novel being usually a work of fiction but what I want to work on is my memoirs. Not that that I’m too concerned about genre policing, and anyway, the way memory works it can’t help but be part fiction.
Three year old terrorists… my youngest, the small blonde cherubic looking one, is behaving like devil-spawn lately. She has this game, which she must love because she plays it almost constantly. The rest of us hate it. It’s called ‘Guess What I Want’. If we guess right, she changes her mind. If we guess wrong, she screams like a deranged banshee and starts swinging her fists, or kicking, or throwing things. And we never guess right, refer to the first case.
Three year old as budding sadist… as if the previous paragraph wasn’t enough evidence. It never fails that the day after I’ve accumulated bruises to my chest from a night at the dungeon, my toddler will choose to find all those bruises one way or another. Yesterday morning I was wearing a t-shirt with words on the front and she decided to trace and name all the letters. Ow, ow. Then she did it again, with more vigor. Ow! The third time around she was poking at each letter. OUCH!! This is how she does aftercare.
Dark chocolate… the best thing after a dementor attack. Or after a toddler pokes at your bruises.
Feeling taller… something about hunkering down under a storm of flu and coming out well on the other side had a transformative effect on me.
More thoughts about the topic of ‘butch’ than I can shake a stick at.
Nasty Pig jocks… because I need something nice to wear to the dungeon.
Winter chill, layered clothing, wood for the fireplace and using the dark months to incubate new projects.
Thoughts on pain as service, not just pain in service.
Thoughts on chosen family… brothers I’ve only met recently. Pondering the bond formed with others who have experience with the same tops. Is that a kind of sibling relationship? I think I’ve been craving this community for a while now.
Wood pile project completed… this past Sunday I finished stacking the wood I’d been splitting in late summer and early fall. I’ve got about 3 cords now, one of which is newly split this year. Lots of kindling made from a cedar fence panel we took down. I look at the wood pile and I see cozy warmth for the winter. Next step in winter preparation is firing up the generator and making sure its tank is full.
Thoughts on butch, trans, genderqueer, binary non-conforming community… there have been some attempts to pull people together through blogs and websites, but they’ve only been partially successful. I know I haven’t put as much effort into those projects as I should have. Butchlab comes to mind. Great idea, beautiful packaging, great initial energy but couldn’t sustain itself. Still pondering and daydreaming what I can create that might work.
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Would love to hear more about pain as service!
Pain as service. That is something that caught my eye. Not very many people (at least in my experience) understand the concept. I will start out with the disclaimer that I am not a masochist. I like to be of service to my Owner, I like for him to be happy, to feel loved, and complete. I like to be the reason for those feelings. I like to be showered with attention for being a good boi, I do not like punishments, ever. I have a driving need to be perfect, for him. Now, on the other side of things He is a sadist, and not a mild one. I’m not sure he can get off with out inflicting some sort of pain or discomfort on me. Making me cry makes his heart soar, it makes him feel connected to me. So what do we do about this situation? I take the pain. I take it for him because I love him, and I want him to be fulfilled in our relationship. I do it for him. I don it because I know that it is for the greater good of our relationship. I may not get off on being hurt, but I do get off on knowing that he is getting off, so the effect snow balls until we are both riding high on endorphin and adrenaline, and I think I’m going to sail off into the great beyond. It is amazing.
If you want to talk more about pain as service feel free to e-mail me. I am more than happy to talk about it.