WHEN Is My Vacation, Again...?

(warning: this one's true but not pretty)

My astrological identity may be that of a crab, but I've always seen myself as more of a of jellyfish, adrift in the sea of life, bobbing with the current as it meanders through the seas...

Until, that is, the moment when my tiny cnidarian brain suddenly realizes, "Crap! I'm fathoms deep in water!" and I revert to panicking, thrashing, drowning human.

Unfortunately, in my distress, coherent thought and articulation fly out the window. So naturally enough, those around me are baffled, asserting that they just don't see a problem and why am I panicking?

Which, because I'm a contrary cuss (in a state of panic,) makes me yell at them. "DO YOU NOT SEE ALL THIS WATER HERE?!?"
     (but I forget to add, "and I suck at swimming")

So they answer the spoken.
"Well, you're the one playing jellyfish, what did you expect?"

Which, because I don't realize I didn't say, "and I suck at swimming", sounds like they don't care if I drown...
     aaaand ...
now we're both hurt and confused.

Oh, and let's not forget that I'm also furious with myself for panicking in the first place. Cuz, y'know, jellyfish aren't supposed to feel fear...

... I've had better weeks.

Trust Is...

Maintaining your rhythm while your Dominant drains pasta immediately above you.

(Not my actual Dom)

Layers of Lust

I sent him pictures, as I often do. I know he likes the ones that highlight hot details of a scene but this time he got photos that show very little action and even less flesh but that create a very strong impression of dominance and possession.

He responded that those pictures had circled in his mind for days, making him want to use me - selfishly, roughly, repeatedly. I could actually hear the growl beneath the sentence.

It was a purely visceral expression of dominance. My specified role was simply as a means to his end. No implied mutuality, no sense of desire for Jz-the-person, or any of those softer feelings that warm a girl's heart. The actual terms used, in fact, reduced me to nothing more than his own personal glory-hole.
Fucktoy, indeed...

I read the words, blinked, and waited for my indignation to set in. Disconcertingly, however, it never did. Instead, I glowed quietly.
Which struck me as so very peculiar that I had to stop and consider, "why?" -- because I would have expected that little display of objectification to set off every knee-jerk reaction I possess. But no.

So... what just happened here?

I'm still not certain and please bear with my fumbling explanations but I think that the difference lies in the fact that it was his dominance that was triggered, not simple sexual desire. Yes, yes, the two are interwoven with us, that's a given, but...

Sexual desire is, quite frankly, not really person-specific. The libido is a restless, demanding, itchy little bugger that really just wants to be satisfied, object be damned. You can talk yourself into wanting just about anyone if the internal craving is strong enough.

But dominance and submission really are incomplete without the other half of the symbiosis. You can't play those mental tricks on yourself that render anyone fair game. For D/s, like requires like.

Which means that to vent that dominant energy surge, he needs a submissive. And it seems to me (and OK, here's where I may be veering onto the "Delusional Slut's Sugarplum Fantasy Trail",) that for him to specifically want to, um, surge "repeatedly" means he wants to reinforce his dominance, to both strengthen and draw from that synergistic energy loop that he already has with someone.
This is not something he can do with just any sub, he needs HIS sub for that -- and she would be me, the tall, mouthy one over here in the corner.

So, as best I can figure it, the reason I didn't get upset over the objectification is because my subconscious recognized that it wasn't actually an impersonal desire, despite the phrasing. It was genuinely ME that he wanted -- and that's not something he often expresses. (Hence the glowing.)
Or at least, that's the comfortable explanation that my conscious brain likes.

(Should you hear a loud, anguished wail echoing through the blogosphere sometime in the future, it might be me, reacting to being hit upside the head with a 2 x 4 by an uncomfortable reality -- but that'll be another post entirely...)

But She NEVER Posts Twice in One Day!!

Until I realized I almost let National Bad Poetry Day get by me...
Unfortunately tho', (or not?) I'd forgotten that I had Dreck Destruction Day a while back and got rid of all the stuff I'd be humiliated by should posterity ever unearth it.
So, really, I have nothing for you but the memory of this spectacularly bad couplet from a particularly execrable attempt:

"A gift, a joy, my golden boy
You are the one I love..."

I wish I could tell you that that was a rare failure.
But actually, I've only ever written one poem I was proud of.
And this ain't it...

Interventionist Wanted:

To accompany whimsy-loving pain-slut on shopping expeditions and assist in realistic evaluation of impulse purchases.

(it seemed like a good idea at the time...)

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

Let it be known that August 18th is National Bad Poetry Day.

Since that is pretty much the only kind of poetry I write, I know I've got quite the stash to draw from! And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone.

I have high hopes, Team Blogland...
Don't let me down, now!!
;-D

Rumbles in the Distance

SP made a comment to me the other day that, from his perspective, I seem to be standing on a threshold...

I suppose that could explain why I'm feeling so unsettled these days, huh? Because thresholds are physical delimiters of change. And change can be a tricky thing. You always hear, "oh, people hate change!" but I'd argue that it's not so much change we resist as the not knowing. 

After all, some changes are seized eagerly. When you are moving toward a change you have chosen and desire - that kind of transformation is tremendously exciting and energizing. But it's deliberate -- there is a goal and a plan, even if the journey itself is still full of surprises and discovery.

Other changes come out of the blue, blindsiding us and leaving no time to think. All we can do is react. We focus on coping, simply getting through the day. Planning and analyzing must wait their turn.

Then there are those changes that are like thunderstorms in the distance. They herald their approach with rumblings and unease. You feel the prickles of electricity in the air, that frisson of awareness that heightens your senses and puts you on guard. But you don't know what to expect, or when. Possibilities range from the storm barreling into your life any minute now, all the way to passing quietly to the north, leaving you untouched and feeling just a bit let down. So you prepare as best you can for any eventuality, poised for a multitude of possible actions but unwilling to proceed further until you know which way the wind is actually going to blow...

That seems to be my life these days.
I'd like to think I'm headed toward a goal. But I'm not the only one in the car and I'm certainly not the one driving. But I'm okay with that and, for the most part, I try to sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
But every now and again, I hear the boom of thunder, and I wonder...