Perfectly Poly is doing a "30 Days" blog commitment where she discusses a particular question or thought each day. I know sin has picked up on the idea and has begun her 30 Days already.
I really like the idea of making a commitment to blogging something each day -- but not the concept of setting out the topics a month ahead of time. I'm a little too free-form for that. It occurred to me, however, that I have an "odd bits" folder full of silly pictures, snippets, and fragments of blog posts that I've never quite been able to whip into full-blown post form.
hmmm...
The exercise might even have a tertiary benefit, besides giving me a small challenge and cleaning out my junk folder. I know I've mentioned this before but I have an unfortunate tendency to fall into a February Funk. Cabin fever strikes and I just generally get a case of the big ol' fat and ugly blues. So it struck me that perhaps a month of February Fragments might help liven up my sometimes dire month.
The fragments are random, often vanilla, and generally pretty darned short.
But I'm hoping that we'll all have fun, me with gathering them and you with reading them.
So thank you for the idea, Poly, and watch this space!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Those Who Inspire
There are, of course, Official Rules.
1. Display the award logo on your blog.
2. Link back to the person who nominated you.
3. State 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 other bloggers and link to them.
5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination and requirements.
I shall, of course, bend these rules to suit...
Seven Things About Me:
1. I love snow.
I get very grumpy in snowless winters.
2. I am toxic to orchids.
I think these are among the most stunning flowers a person will ever see.
And I can kill them within an hour - dead, right there in the car.
3. If I sing "Ring of Fire" when I have a cold, I sound just like Johnny Cash.
4. I firmly believe that SP is my soulmate.
5. I don't mind going commando but you will rarely catch me braless...
6. I do NOT suffer from completion compulsion
and have the piles of unblocked needlepoint to prove it.
7. I own a copy of Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language
(and read it, for fun!)
Now, you know I don't like doing the nominating thing and I usually end up saying something along the lines of, "if you're in my blogroll, know I think you're inspiring." Largely because I don't like to be seen as playing favorites but also, most of the people in my blogroll get nominated from other sources anyhow, and how many times can a person come up with seven unique things to write?
However, the number asked for is 15 - and I have exactly that number in my blogroll! And it really is pleasant to read someone saying something nice about oneself... So, this time, I'm going to officially nominate everyone in my blogroll - and tell you why. But if it's a repeat nomination for anyone, don't feel compelled to play by The Rules -- just smile and think, "ooo, she likes me!"
(And, like lil, this post will be my only notification.)
So without further ado, in alphabetical order (articles expunged)
Aisha
I always enjoy reading the introspective, spiritual connections that aisha can bring to her thoughts on living this dynamic. (Plus, she's fun to shoulder bump, even if I am so much taller, I'm afraid I'll take her head off if I get too enthusiastic.)
blood, sex, crimson
He doesn't post much or often, but I'm blown away by the way this man uses words.
A Dauntless Journey
I like DV's take on D/s and he's always ready to try and help us understand the workings beneath the surface.
DiscoveringAlice
Alice is a quiet little gem, determinedly feeling her way through her search for The Right Dominant. And she punctuates her musings with some truly kickin' tunes! :-)
The Edge of Vanilla
Tom, Tom, Tom... I just love Tom.
This is a man who can think and express himself, who isn't caught up in his own hype, who appreciates women in every conceivable shape and size, and who writes the most amazing limericks I've ever had the pleasure of reading.
Jumping On In
sfp is open and honest and funny and free-form. I just love her voice and stories -- and will frequently haunt her link just to check if she's posted something new (cuz the feed reader seems to delay on her posts quite often...)
A Kind Dom
Pygar has been a bit busy lately but he's a thoughtful, caring kind of Dom who is genuinely interested in opening discussions that make us all think a bit harder about this stuff we do here.
Leather Cuffs & Silken Bonds
Another voice I really enjoy reading, Jake (with occasional guest appearances by Joy) chronicles their progress at incorporating D/s into their marriage, from successes to the occasional stubbed toes. An enjoyable slice of real life D/s.
Mick and Lynda's Place
Like Jake and Joy, this is the story of a good marriage working to become even more solid. I love how Mick clearly adores his Lynda, even through all the bits he isn't sure he understands...
The Monkeys Journey
I always look forward to riding the rollercoaster with Monkey as she shares her hopes, dreams and disappointments with unflinching honesty. She's truly genuine, and I like that.
The Pleasure Principle
Not just your average wild woman, Hedone grabs for the gusto in life ... and then tells us all about it.
I luffs her.
The Power Exchange
mouse and Omega live a different lifestyle than I could ever handle but oh, does mouse make us see the beauty of it! She doesn't ignore the potholes either, but you never lose sight of the how much these two mean to each other.
Submissive Guide
This was one of the sites I scoured daily when I was first exploring the concept of submission. lunaKM creates a comfortable forum where the n00b can ask questions, and the experienced can find resources for furthering their submission.
Submissive Sanctuary
What can I say about cousin lil? I always watch for new posts from her. lil is happy to share her ups, downs, joys, disappointments, and deep thoughts ... just about everything except her coffee, in fact.
(But I'll bet if we brought muffins, she'd let us have a cup!)
whatiwonder
I kind of hate that gg's blog shows up at the bottom of the alphabetical list, cuz she is certainly NOT at the bottom of any other list! Thoughtful and insightful, gg keeps me thinking - and shames me with her tact and understanding. I luffs her, too.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...
OK, last discourse for Wench Week 2013.
This one is really more of a big ol' note to myself, gone all "open letter to the world", but here we go...
Charity begins at home.
As reasonably thoughtful adults, most of us have mastered the concept that words can hurt. We know there's such a thing as verbal abuse, that it does damage, and that we should treat the people we encounter with care, if not outright kindness.
So why do we so often consider ourselves the exception to that rule?
I am past master at this, myself.
Some of it is hyperbole for humorous effect, some of it falls under the "best defense is a good offense" heading (if I say it first, you can't use it!), some of comes from my mom -- "Don't blow your own horn, honey - that's VERY unattractive."
No matter the root, however, ALL of it is purely habit, rarely flattering, and pretty darned convincing, to myself as well as to others. (SP says it's a tribute to my eloquence that even tho' he knows me, he's always pleasantly surprised when he looks at pictures of me.)
And yes, it has done damage.
Not necessarily debilitating damage, mind you, but I have certainly managed to warp and skew my own self-image so much through the years that I probably couldn't pick The Real Me out of a line-up. (Unless I had on my nice paper-bag mask, of course...)
So the moral of the story is:
Please let's remember to talk as nicely to ourselves as I know we do to others.
(And if anyone wants to join me in a Pact to Eliminate the Use of the Expression "lard-ass self", there are sign up sheets posted below...)
Oh, and I almost forgot!
For Tom (and with a nod to Hedone for her suggestion):
The Obligatory Annual Wench Boob Shot.
This one is really more of a big ol' note to myself, gone all "open letter to the world", but here we go...
Charity begins at home.
As reasonably thoughtful adults, most of us have mastered the concept that words can hurt. We know there's such a thing as verbal abuse, that it does damage, and that we should treat the people we encounter with care, if not outright kindness.
So why do we so often consider ourselves the exception to that rule?
I am past master at this, myself.
Some of it is hyperbole for humorous effect, some of it falls under the "best defense is a good offense" heading (if I say it first, you can't use it!), some of comes from my mom -- "Don't blow your own horn, honey - that's VERY unattractive."
No matter the root, however, ALL of it is purely habit, rarely flattering, and pretty darned convincing, to myself as well as to others. (SP says it's a tribute to my eloquence that even tho' he knows me, he's always pleasantly surprised when he looks at pictures of me.)
And yes, it has done damage.
Not necessarily debilitating damage, mind you, but I have certainly managed to warp and skew my own self-image so much through the years that I probably couldn't pick The Real Me out of a line-up. (Unless I had on my nice paper-bag mask, of course...)
So the moral of the story is:
Please let's remember to talk as nicely to ourselves as I know we do to others.
(And if anyone wants to join me in a Pact to Eliminate the Use of the Expression "lard-ass self", there are sign up sheets posted below...)
Oh, and I almost forgot!
For Tom (and with a nod to Hedone for her suggestion):
The Obligatory Annual Wench Boob Shot.
(Remember, blinking creates the illusion of heavage!)
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
And Now, An Adjective...
So, here's another word I've been struggling with lately:
"kinky"
Now, it's not that I dislike the word. It's actually a fun little thing.
And it's certainly a useful construct to describe being slightly outside the norm in sexual preferences.
But it doesn't feel like it fits.
It's those pesky underlying connotations again.
"Kinky" conveys two different messages for me, depending on it's use.
It's either dark and convoluted and scary or it's breezy and uninhibited and WILD!
And here I am, just your average gal, plodding her way down the Pathway Of The Boringly Normal that falls in between. (OK, sometimes I skip...)
But really, "kinky" just sounds way more interesting than I feel.
I'm just an ordinary gal, with a fantastic guy, who just happens to like to tie her up and torture her...
I dunno...
Does anyone else find themselves looking over their shoulder when they hear the word, certain there's someone behind you that it's intended for...?
"kinky"
Now, it's not that I dislike the word. It's actually a fun little thing.
And it's certainly a useful construct to describe being slightly outside the norm in sexual preferences.
But it doesn't feel like it fits.
It's those pesky underlying connotations again.
"Kinky" conveys two different messages for me, depending on it's use.
It's either dark and convoluted and scary or it's breezy and uninhibited and WILD!
And here I am, just your average gal, plodding her way down the Pathway Of The Boringly Normal that falls in between. (OK, sometimes I skip...)
But really, "kinky" just sounds way more interesting than I feel.
I'm just an ordinary gal, with a fantastic guy, who just happens to like to tie her up and torture her...
I dunno...
Does anyone else find themselves looking over their shoulder when they hear the word, certain there's someone behind you that it's intended for...?
Monday, January 21, 2013
Wench Week 2013
Time once again for No Name Calling Week.
(aka "Wench Week")
If you're new to this, it's an annual event dedicated to ending name-calling and bullying of all kinds. The organization's focus is primarily geared toward K-12 education but I was happy to jump on the bandwagon once I heard about it. Basically, because it touches on two of my biggest bete noirs - bullying and sloppy use of language. Now, I won't go off on a bullying tangent here - but I will share some of my thoughts on language and the use thereof. (For the whole week, even!)
So why would this make me change my blog title, you ask?
Well, once upon a time, "bitch" was a fairly neutral word in my lexicon.
Sitting in a room full of men who were laughing their heads off at Sam Kinneson belittling women changed all that for me, however.
The first time he used "bitch" as a punch line, even I laughed. It was genuinely amusing - once. But he didn't stop there. He ratcheted the vituperation up into a tirade of anger and hostility at women -- all summed up in neat shorthand by the word "bitch".
And the more scornful and vindictive he got, the more he snarled, "bitch", the harder people laughed.
It was like watching Pavlov train a room full of dogs... but not nearly so benign.
From that moment on, I really, REALLY disliked the word "bitch".
I found it genuinely offensive, an insult -- less due to the word itself than the subtext.
So when BG started using "bitch" as an endearment, I had a really hard time disassociating that undertone of hostility from his use of the word. Because that's why language is so insidious. Many words carry depths of meaning and connotation that are so common, we often only recognize them subconsciously. But try to pick them apart from the actual word and you'll realize how deep the connection goes.
Faith and perseverance have brought me to the point where I at least don't flinch at the word "bitch" anymore. In the right circumstances, it's even endearing.
But for most circumstances?
It's probably best to simply go with the word less pejorative.
Like, oh, say, "wench"... ;-)
Because I think my mama had it right:
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
(aka "Wench Week")
If you're new to this, it's an annual event dedicated to ending name-calling and bullying of all kinds. The organization's focus is primarily geared toward K-12 education but I was happy to jump on the bandwagon once I heard about it. Basically, because it touches on two of my biggest bete noirs - bullying and sloppy use of language. Now, I won't go off on a bullying tangent here - but I will share some of my thoughts on language and the use thereof. (For the whole week, even!)
So why would this make me change my blog title, you ask?
Well, once upon a time, "bitch" was a fairly neutral word in my lexicon.
Sitting in a room full of men who were laughing their heads off at Sam Kinneson belittling women changed all that for me, however.
The first time he used "bitch" as a punch line, even I laughed. It was genuinely amusing - once. But he didn't stop there. He ratcheted the vituperation up into a tirade of anger and hostility at women -- all summed up in neat shorthand by the word "bitch".
And the more scornful and vindictive he got, the more he snarled, "bitch", the harder people laughed.
It was like watching Pavlov train a room full of dogs... but not nearly so benign.
From that moment on, I really, REALLY disliked the word "bitch".
I found it genuinely offensive, an insult -- less due to the word itself than the subtext.
So when BG started using "bitch" as an endearment, I had a really hard time disassociating that undertone of hostility from his use of the word. Because that's why language is so insidious. Many words carry depths of meaning and connotation that are so common, we often only recognize them subconsciously. But try to pick them apart from the actual word and you'll realize how deep the connection goes.
Faith and perseverance have brought me to the point where I at least don't flinch at the word "bitch" anymore. In the right circumstances, it's even endearing.
But for most circumstances?
It's probably best to simply go with the word less pejorative.
Like, oh, say, "wench"... ;-)
Because I think my mama had it right:
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
Friday, January 18, 2013
Friday Sports Round-up
Just your average Friday night in Boston:
aaaannnnnd:
(Sorry, but I couldn't let the Hatsu Basho go unmentioned - and that last one just cracks me up!)
Enjoy the weekend!
aaaannnnnd:
(Sorry, but I couldn't let the Hatsu Basho go unmentioned - and that last one just cracks me up!)
Enjoy the weekend!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
On Erratic Blogging
I'm at it again, aren't I?
The extended silence thing.
Well, it's not for the want of any sex, masochism, or submission in my life. Those are there, I just don't seem to feel like writing about them at the moment.
Part of my reticence stems from the fact that what we are together these days somehow feels more private. The "whats" haven't changed much - He's still funny and sweet and sadistic, I'm still bound and tortured and happy. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to delineate the difference - but there is one ... and it's shushing me up a bit.
It's also true, however, that sometimes I'm quiet for no better reason than that "this is just not where I want to spend my time right now"... Not that I don't love you guys, I just need the occasional break.
I've always cycled through these phases of withdrawal but had never really pinpointed the reasoning behind them -- until I heard an old World Book Club podcast, in which AS Byatt responded to the question of whether or not she kept a journal with the following:
"I have twice in my life attempted to keep a journal and [both times] disgusted myself so much with my interest in myself that [the journaling] only lasted a fortnight. ... [Journaling] is a form of Protestant self-criticism, where you make yourself real by writing your life down."
She continued on that it was better to write of an outside interest and make the world real, instead. But it was her cautionary view of introspection that really struck me.
...you make yourself real by writing your life down...
Because doesn't it feel like that is what we fall into here, sometimes?
Or maybe it's that we write in hopes of making our lives more real... to incorporate more of our dream realities into the actual ones...
Or maybe I'm projecting.
Talking through my hat?
I don't know.
What I do know is that I sometimes realize that my self-examination is beginning to border on self-absorption -- and I get a bit disgusted with myself.
At which point, it's time to step back, breathe the un-rarefied air of real life, and let my sense of global importance assume it's more correct proportions. (Which rarely takes long. ;-p)
I do find I'm much happier when I let my life dictate my blog, not vice-versa.
YMMV, of course.
But for me, I choose to be erratic. :-)
The extended silence thing.
Well, it's not for the want of any sex, masochism, or submission in my life. Those are there, I just don't seem to feel like writing about them at the moment.
Part of my reticence stems from the fact that what we are together these days somehow feels more private. The "whats" haven't changed much - He's still funny and sweet and sadistic, I'm still bound and tortured and happy. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to delineate the difference - but there is one ... and it's shushing me up a bit.
It's also true, however, that sometimes I'm quiet for no better reason than that "this is just not where I want to spend my time right now"... Not that I don't love you guys, I just need the occasional break.
I've always cycled through these phases of withdrawal but had never really pinpointed the reasoning behind them -- until I heard an old World Book Club podcast, in which AS Byatt responded to the question of whether or not she kept a journal with the following:
"I have twice in my life attempted to keep a journal and [both times] disgusted myself so much with my interest in myself that [the journaling] only lasted a fortnight. ... [Journaling] is a form of Protestant self-criticism, where you make yourself real by writing your life down."
She continued on that it was better to write of an outside interest and make the world real, instead. But it was her cautionary view of introspection that really struck me.
...you make yourself real by writing your life down...
Because doesn't it feel like that is what we fall into here, sometimes?
Or maybe it's that we write in hopes of making our lives more real... to incorporate more of our dream realities into the actual ones...
Or maybe I'm projecting.
Talking through my hat?
I don't know.
What I do know is that I sometimes realize that my self-examination is beginning to border on self-absorption -- and I get a bit disgusted with myself.
At which point, it's time to step back, breathe the un-rarefied air of real life, and let my sense of global importance assume it's more correct proportions. (Which rarely takes long. ;-p)
I do find I'm much happier when I let my life dictate my blog, not vice-versa.
YMMV, of course.
But for me, I choose to be erratic. :-)
Sunday, January 6, 2013
The Burning Flesh Report
See, I know he's not a man who uses words lightly, so I was quite right to be apprehensive of what First Fuck 2013 would entail. As it turned out, I wasn't apprehensive enough...
I had been worried about what he'd do with one little set of utility candles but in fact, he broke out every single item in the toy box to demonstrate the flesh-heating capability of each. From chair to door to sofa, by rope, wheel, hand, clothespin, teeth, and every leather device we own, I was led through The Many Ways to Burn.
Including, yes..., by candle.
Which he used to prove that when he said I'd burn under his hands, he was not just whistling Dixie...
Not content with simply letting the wax fall where it may, he used his free hand to grasp, torque, and guide, simultaneously manipulating both breast and candle until I was covered in an appealingly symmetrical design... the beauty of which I had NO time to fully appreciate, because he quickly picked up the slapper and whacked it all back off again!
(And then groused at me because he got wax flakes all over his shirt.)
I felt a bit like a sand mandala.
Only hotter.
I had been worried about what he'd do with one little set of utility candles but in fact, he broke out every single item in the toy box to demonstrate the flesh-heating capability of each. From chair to door to sofa, by rope, wheel, hand, clothespin, teeth, and every leather device we own, I was led through The Many Ways to Burn.
Including, yes..., by candle.
Which he used to prove that when he said I'd burn under his hands, he was not just whistling Dixie...
Not content with simply letting the wax fall where it may, he used his free hand to grasp, torque, and guide, simultaneously manipulating both breast and candle until I was covered in an appealingly symmetrical design... the beauty of which I had NO time to fully appreciate, because he quickly picked up the slapper and whacked it all back off again!
(And then groused at me because he got wax flakes all over his shirt.)
I felt a bit like a sand mandala.
Only hotter.
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