Obvious Update

I'm just going to write this here, It's been a while and I'm sorry.  

My absence has more to do with my feelings about writing in general than anything else in my life, although another reason is also that 2017 sucked for me psychologically.  In my journal writings, diary posts have trickled to just a cursory once a month post with content that I have experienced in the past, just as a record-keeping exercise rather than an analysis of my time in that moment and even that is subjected to my waning memory and my loyalty to put something in writing.  During this self-exiled period between blog posts, I've experienced this period of contraction, where I withdraw from the world a bit, and questioned everything.  Like, what the fuck am I doing with my life?  Why do I find myself in this situation?  How did the world change so quickly and embrace fascism?  

Along the way, I finally faced loneliness head long, realized that I'm not that great as a friend, and that I still had so much baggage still lingering from my relationship with M and the vestiges of my hetero-normative past.  I also learned: how to put on make-up; learned how to read Lenormand system of divination, as well as made some headway into understanding of Tarot; truly embraced the tenants of Buddhism as part of my personal philosophy in life; tried to learn the guitar; lost myself and danced to strangers at Trance/EDM concerts; and understood that being alone is not a prison the most people make it out to be.

It's taking me a couple of years to be comfortable in a number of things, and the universe has granted me the energy and the inclination to be expansive again.  The irony is not lost in me. The world continues to burn itself, metaphorically and figuratively in real time, and here I am, with thoughts of love and  lust and bright beginnings.  And it's time to write again.

India Part 1 - Wedding Invites and Meeting Family

See...I took this picture of the Taj Majal!

It's been about two weeks since I've been back from my travels to India. Suffice it to say, it was an once-in-a-lifetime experience for me that I will never forget. Actually I can't forget because I have pictures, outfits and a bunch of bangles to prove that I was there.

Now I started writing this post a day ago, but realized that one post will not encompass what I wanted to convey about this trip. So I’ve decided to make this a serial. There is so much I want to convey aside from describing places, people, and events, I want to talk about travel in general and other insights.  

This all started with an invite to a wedding. A's boss and founder of the start-up he works for decided to get married in India (He's Indian). A has known about this since the summer of last year but as far as he was concerned, his boss would be away from work. Or so he thought. His boss, let's call him P, specifically requested that A attend the wedding. A wasn't sure if he could go, but hell...how do you say no to going to India? At first he thought he'd go alone. Then he asked me if I'd accompany him. Apparently I couldn't say no to India either, after some deliberation I said yes. While I was trying to make up my mind, his son also agreed to go to India.

This set into motion various events that was not completely related to travel, because I hadn't been formally introduced to his kids at this point. I’m still a mystery to his daughter. His ex-wife just recently discovered my existence because of a silly, somewhat childish circumstance that required A to reveal to her that he was dating and that he was dating me for some time. He had meant to have a meaningful talk to her about it, but the timing was never right. And for the record, the circumstance that prompted all of this wasn’t truly horrible or even eye-opening, just something that looked like a scene from a bad tv sitcom from the 70's.

Anyway, so I had to meet his son, see if we all go along before A was comfortable taking the both of us. We met for dinner over bowls of Pho and rice plates as we discussed our plan to see if this was doable. By the end of the evening, we all agreed that this could all work.

We only had about a month and a half to prep for this trip, during the holiday season. Any enthusiasm I had for the Christmas and New Year holiday was tempered by the need to get my passport renewed, to get my immunization shots in order and researching the shit out of what to expect when traveling to India.

While most of it was helpful, the research made me quite fearful of the trip. Don't drink the water. Don't give money to beggars, it's a crime syndicate. India will overwhelm you and steal your money and your dignity. There were heeded warnings for woman traveling to India alone. Unfortunately, it basically said that men will stare at you in a not friendly way, so try not to stand out too much, lest men will think you’re a whore. As you can imagine, I wasn't sure how to take this all in, but it was making me anxious. So much so, that by the time I boarded the plane at SFO, I felt physically sick.  It didn’t help that hours before we literally boarded that plane, A met my mother and I met his ex-wife in person. 

Maybe the 20-ish hours on the plane did something to my brain, because all that anxiety disappeared, replaced by a sudden familiarity once when we landed at New Delhi. A commented that it didn't feel like he was in India, until we stepped out of the airport terminal and became inundated with airport pick-up traffic. It was crowded, noisy, full of people, the air was humid and thick with pollution. To me it felt like I've experience this before. Because it felt just like when I traveled to the Philippines, some years ago. Now I know that India isn't anything like the Philippines, yet throughout the trip I couldn't help but compare the two countries. But somehow, just that past experience made me more at ease being in India than any of the travel research I did in the states.

Our adventure was just beginning...

From Urbanite to Road Warrior

It's been about 5 months since I've moved and I was anticipating hating the change.  

I lived in an urban, often "hoodish" neighborhoods in Oakland, for the past 10 years, with the exception of when I was living with M where we lived in a  house situated in a quiet suburban neighborhood surrounded by freeways.  In all my time in Oakland, I was a public transit commuter, via BART or bus, usually accompanied by a walk and work was never more than 20-30 minutes away from home. When I moved to my first apartment since my separation, I was blessed with amenities close by on foot.  Eventually, my walking radius expanded to half a mile, then 2 miles, and it became part of my weekend routine. After moving from that house in the suburbs, I ended up in an apartment a block from a BART station. There my walking world expanded to 3 to 6 miles, eventually adding walking to work as part of my routine.  I prided on how I knew those neighborhoods so intimately.

So I was a bit surprised that my transition to living in a commute town wasn't more tumultuous.  Oh for 2 weeks, I was commuting from here to Oakland for work, and that commute entailed driving on I-80, which can be brutal.  But my current commute to Walnut Creek feels as routine as those 6 mile walks I would do twice a week at my last place.  I've added more miles to my car in the last 5 months, than in the last 7 years.  In Oakland I dreaded driving around town, unless I absolutely needed to; Now I'm completely depended on my car just to get groceries.  I drive everywhere, though I do walk downtown for the farmer's market on Saturdays on occasion.  I've even explored places beyond my home, and loved it.  I've come to appreciated the beauty of my daily commute, passing refineries, marshes, bridges, green hills and waterways.

Gone is the constant reminder that there are people around me, and that there are people always angling for parking.  The white noise of cars on freeways or trains breaking into the station or buses beeping is also absent.  Missing are conversations being yelled at across the street, and the constant boom from the base coming from crap audio systems.  Correction, good audio systems but muffled through their heavily modified frames of a car.  I hear crickets.  I hear my next door neighbors, or children playing on the streets.  There are dogs barking outside.  Actually there were dogs in the urban setting; I guess that never changes.  I sometimes hear gun shots, but it's like a lingering aftertaste here, not in your face reminder that I live in a scary neighborhood.  I guess the most egregious thing I have to deal with is cars using the hill I live on as a ramp to speed up to 80mph.  

I posit that the Central Valley girl in me, the one I thought I replaced with the hip urbanite sophisticated woman, never left me.  Because this town reminds me of my hometown, except it's by the water, and it's as suburban as it gets here in the Bay Area.  Initially, I was a bit afraid to let go of that urbanite persona.  But I had to let it go, this is not Oakland.

Don't get me wrong.  I miss Oakland.  I  miss living closer to my friends who live in SF and I miss living so close to A.  I miss the action sometimes, the hustle and bustle, the grittiness, the fuck you attitude that came with being San Francisco's pot smoking craft beer drinking flunky cousin.  

I don't miss how Oakland is changing into a haven for rich hipsters who can't afford Silicon Valley and San Francisco.  Nor do I miss what is becoming a bland representation of the Oakland I once knew.  Maybe that's what I'm missing, the Oakland that is still in my head, the one I fell in love with, the one with all the interesting people in it, who are now gone or struggling to hang on.

My Dark Well and a New Home

For the past 6 months, my life has been a whirlwind of uprooting and significant changes.  It started with lack of communication, expectations lost, and me spiraling into a mini-depression, until life pulled me out of my funk...in order to find another home.  I've experienced a break-up, hard-truths, and a plenty of uncertainty and transition since I wrote here.

Yet, I'm finding that writing, even in my private journals, wasn't my salvation this time around, and that I just needed to go through whatever emotion was present at the time.  It's strange, I wonder if I was trying to hold my pain at bay when I went through my last transition, and decided to put on a brave face.  This time around, I think whatever bravado I had to push through my pain, was not there for me, letting myself be paralyze with my fears and doubts.  

I've always had these periods of depression, most not so bad as others.  During college, I found myself in this dark well that I couldn't get out of, and had a fleeting moment of suicide.  Thankfully, health care as a student is easy to come by, and I seek help on my own. Most of my writings on here came from that dark place that I sometimes occupy and I've managed to avoid therapy by writing in journals and these posts. This time around, I couldn't hide in my words.  

As much as living my own truths have helped me in so many ways, there are some things that even my ego can't avoid. So I found myself in a vulnerable position to deal with my shortcomings. By the end of May, I broke up with my secondary, the munch I helped organized disintegrate because of my lack of commitment, and I found myself in that deep well looking up again, this time needing to be there.  I ended up questioning about Poly, about power, about friendships and about myself.  At the time it felt like I couldn't find the light, but I functioned enough to go to work, sleep, eat, and have a relationship with my thing.  By the end of June, I was feeling myself and I managed to crawl out of that dark well.

Thank the universe for the timing...because as soon as I can enjoy my life again, I found out that the landlord decided to sell the apartment building and that we had to vacate by September 1st.  So I spent my birthday finding a place.  Find a place I did....but it's not in Oakland, where I've lived for almost 15 years.  I could go on and on about the why, but essentially I became a victim of the Bay Area Rental madness and I ended up living up north.  I commuted to and from Oakland for work for 2 1/2 weeks in the hellish I-80 rush hour traffic, until my office relocated to Walnut Creek.  I moved residences by the beginning of August; my office moved at the end of August.  BTW...I'm way done with the moving thing! 

I can write now.  I'm settled for the most part and finished up some tasks to make my home a  home.  I love where I live, it's very quiet and nice.  I do find myself missing Oakland, the Oakland I used to know anyway. I've also become road warrior queen, putting in more miles in my car since I've bought it 8 years ago.   The drive to and from Walnut Creek isn't as bad as to and from Oakland, but  I'm still trying to adjust my schedule around it.  Despite that, I've found that you don't escape your thoughts while driving the freeways alone.  I've already written a few things on my journal, and talked at length with friends.  I'm considering using my cell phones as a recorder to capture my thoughts.

That's what's going on.  I'm looking forward to my new life here and I plan more esoteric posts soon.

Why I Identify myself as a Gamer

Sydanthra celebrating the Wintersday Holiday in GW2

For the past couple of weeks, I've been obsessed with computer parts, namely motherboards and graphics cards.  In my spare time, I would look read up on the latest gaming builds within my $750-$1000 budget. I've asked J his opinion about building a rig, set up wishlists in Amazon and NewEgg, and watched YouTube how to videos. I have a financial windfall, expecting more, and crunching the numbers on a spreadsheet, so Yes, I'm completely committed to do this.  Last Friday, I pulled the trigger and bought my peripherals (because I need them now), my case and power supply. The upgrade of my gaming computer has been a long time coming and is much needed. Unfortunately, it appears that my computer is dying, because sometimes, while I'm in the middle of playing Guild Wars 2 (GW2), my computer would crash, with something sounding like grinding metal coming from the interior of my computer.  

I'm excited like a teenager going to her first concert on the inside, but I'm finding myself reserving my enthusiasm when I talk about this to other people, aside from a few people whom I trust.  Why is that?

Out of everything in my life, I have this rush of pride and shame when it comes to this aspect of me. Like my sexuality, it's taking me years for me to be comfortable with being a gamer. I've always been geeky, an introvert, and had an appreciation of all things science fiction and fantasy.  So when it became hip to be nerdy/geeky, I embraced that label and sort of ran with it, fully knowing the past.  However gaming, mostly video gaming, is the core center of being a geek to me.  

I discovered it late in my life.  Oh, I knew about arcades and Atari's in my youth, but it was always something the guys did. Then I discovered Mario Brothers, Tetris, MUDDs, and found that I had a knack for this. I loved Diablo I and II, Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts, as well as the numerous platforms and puzzle games.  Then World of Warcraft came along and changed my life forever.  

I mentioned a little bit about my gaming life here, but let me add to that discussion. You see, I ended up spending all of my time on WoW, to the detriment of my marriage, then I lost control of my life. As much as I should be thankful for WoW being the instigator of what would become of my sexual journey, there is a part of me that has never recovered from that lost of control. I also reasoned that if I dated someone who understood how important this was to me, it would immune me to the shame and I can be part of something bigger. But as my relationship started to unravel with M, I realized that it's not enough to just have an understanding.  One of the very first inklings that my relationship with M wasn't working, was our incapability with each other's gaming style and not being able to reconcile a middle ground.

I game for myself now, with no expectation that my partners will game with me. I game for the enjoyment of it. It has become my sole form of entertainment, and I love the variations that games come in.  I love the social interaction when I need it, the immersive landscapes, and the mental workouts games give me. I also don't play WoW anymore, despite the hype of the new expansion. I don't have the time nor will to invest in it anymore. I want to be able to have other things in my life, such as engage in crafts, foster relationships, take my 3-mile walks, maybe take up dancing or a martial arts, and be part of the kink community. I play GW2 and Diablo III, but I'm not involved with a guild or clan that expects me to set aside my real life. I play Skyrim, and a bunch of independent games on my Steam account that has no a social component to it.  I just finished Episode 3 of Kentucky Route Zero. A video game that is part novel, part allegory, all done like a blues song if it was written by David Lynch. It's hauntingly beautiful. 

I am serious about my gaming, but it doesn't run my life anymore.

I also discovered Twitch. You will find millions of other gamers, playing for fun or profit (in tournaments). Twitch has allowed me to experience WoW without being in it and let me discover other games that I would never play but might, like FPS (First Person Shooters).  It allows me to be part of something bigger, and support gamers.  Now I am quite aware that I'm older than the demographics of the broadcaster/watchers on Twitch, and being a female on Twitch, and indeed gaming in general, can be daunting at times. Yes...women have to contend with the whole "fake geek" meme. It is getting better, still a long way to go. Baby steps misogynist gaming culture...baby steps.

Being a gamer will always be part of me. Even when I'm 90 and retired. I can picture it now, me and 19 of my retired friends raiding WoW, in the mid-afternoon of course. We wouldn't want to miss out on the early bird Prime Rib special starting at 4pm. I'm sure someone will come out with an interface that will directly hook up to our brains.

The Post New Year Post

A short update before I go onto other things in my life.

1) Work still sucks, but at least they recognize that I've been doing the job of 5 people instead of doing the job of 3 people which is the norm at this place.  So now they expect me to revamp a process, and make sure that everyone agrees to it.  If I was more courageous, I would have indicated that I will only comply if there's a financial incentive for it.  I didn't because of item No 2.

2) I'm actively looking for a new job.  I had an auspicious start, landing 3 interviews.  However, I came to realize why I never liked job searches to begin with.  Job interviews seems to be like vanilla dating, whereas you are spending the time playing 20 questions about what the employer is looking for, while trying  not to sound condescending or angry, with a statistical probability of nil that you will be asking the right questions.  It's alright!  I'm actually applying what I've learned to re-vamp my job search and possibly look into some educational endeavours that I could pursue in case the job search yields me nothing. 

3) Aside from my job, everything in my life is awesome!  A and J are fine.  I have wonderful set of friends and my financial austerity period has come to an end.  

2014 ended with a line drawn on the sand at work, spending Christmas with J and mom (not together), getting sick, spending New Year's Eve celebrating a hand fasting, and having Dinner and a Movie hosted by my roommate.  2015 is looking good, despite all of the work stuff.  Hey, at least I'm working on changing that.

Meet A...my thing

Cliches are in order, since the last time I wrote here...indeed, time does fly when you are having fun.  Some much needed updates are in order...although I can't remember all the things I need to update about my life, aside from the what I'm about to write.

I surreptitiously mentioned about the big change in my life.  Well let's not hint any longer...I am in a full blown relationship with someone.  Let's call him A. Please welcome him into my life.  He's been someone I've been wanting in a partner and more.  Do I call him my partner?

Technically, in kink-land, you don't. You see, he's my Submissive. Wait...submissive. We have to make the kink gods happy...you know :) Actually, if you ever saw us in public, we act more like Mistress/property, probably because I do refer to A as my thing.  Yet, we're still not sure if we are comfortable calling ourselves that in our circle, since those labels carry a fair bit of responsibilities and expectations.  We did talk about how to describe ourselves in public and decided on Dominant/submissive.  But as a friend of a friend pointed out, I couldn't muster the appropriate enthusiasm for those titles. Like everything in our relationship, all of it is a work in progress.  

Ah yes....us kinksters and those freakin labels. Perhaps, it's befitting to write about these labels again since I have to use them. We will need to perform the rite of coming out as a couple soon...aka change our statuses on Fetlife...so that our intentions are clear and noble...Or something.  And it is important that we choose our labels well. Because, you wouldn't want to change it the next day...NO ONE WILL RESPECT ME AS A DOMME!

How this came to be was rather sudden and the transition felt natural to the both of us.  He proclaimed his love to me and I reciprocated.  I asked him if I could "own" him, and he steadfastly agreed.  Our hearts became united at that moment, and there was no doubt what kind of relationship this is or will be...a D/s one.

For the past 6- 8 months, we've been talking about how this is going to look like, how much control would I exert and he is willing to take, and balancing our kink and vanilla life (He is in transition and is a father. I have other relationships). We have engaged in play, talked about our limits and testing boundaries, and had lots and lots of sex.  We've slept together...Like sleeping together...in a bed...snoring...sometimes with a cat snuggling next to him.  It became apparent rather quickly, that I fucking miss sleeping with someone.  He makes me coffee in the morning, drives me to work when he can, puts the dishes in the dishwasher, cooks for me and brings me good beer and chocolate.  Trust me, it was hard to let him do these things for me in the beginning; but at this point, it would be sad if all of that went away.

He puts his head on my lap.  I freakin love it when he does that!  It makes my heart flutter.  Squee! 

Okay, if you had told me a year ago, that I was going to be in a relationship with someone and that I was going to own him, I would have laughed.  But here I am, with A, who is my thing and my submissive, my lover and boyfriend.

A Simple Update and Never turning back

Hello again.

I want to say that my life is interrupting my blogging time.  But this time around, I'm going to blame my internet provider.  Or, it could be my writing computer. In which case, I will need to spend time trying to fix this problem before I can commence writing a few more blog posts.  I owe my, somewhat, meager audience some posts, and again, I do apologize for the sparseness here.  Unfortunately, neither my roommate or I, are tech savvy, or care to fix this problem on our spare time. Actually, I have no excuses, I'm still surrounded by geeky/nerdy men, and if need be, can ask one of them to help me fix this problem.  But none of those guys live with me and I'd rather be having quality time with them, then fix my computer. Until someone make up a "lets fix my computer" theme for a party, I'm afraid, I'm going to have to do this on my own.  Maybe I can find a decent keyboard for my Ipad, so that I can write using that, and continue publishing more posts unhindered. Wish me luck,  I have a few more options to explore.

But, perhaps just a no nonsense update is in order, since I'm here now.  The bad stuff first then the good stuff.

I wasn't going to write this in my blog, but I think it warrants a mention, especially here.  It should probably warrant it's own post, but I suppose this format will have to do.  I knew for awhile that M became engaged to someone well before he decided to move to the East Coast.  Well, his wedding was last Thursday.  How do I know this?  It was something he constantly wrote about on Facebook, like a reminder. (BTW, I'm still friended to him on FB.) I've been extremely reserved about this but for the most part, I wish them well. There is a part of me that truly want to congratulate them.  But, even if I were to write an email to him privately, I don't think he would want my well wishes. Out of everything that could trigger my emotions about this situation, it's the sadness that emanates that I can't say anything about this, even positively. So, I'm having to accept that and let it go.  

Concurrently, it appears that my single primary-ness is coming to a slow transitional closing phase.  I say "appears" because, I'm not giving up being my own primary, it won't be my focus.  Let's just say I met someone, and we are in the middle of becoming more entrenched in each other's lives that is both fulfilling and loving.  I wasn't looking to have another deep, long-term relationship, but it appears the universe felt it was time.  I want to say more, but I know that this warrants a few blog posts of its own.  I'm still poly and have my secondary relationship with J, and that will not change anytime soon.

For the most part I'm well.  Even work has finally equalized a bit for me, but then, my motivations and energy lies elsewhere, and unfortunately, have decided to just stop caring.  I know, it's not healthy in the long run, and I'd rather go to work where I'm motivated.  But, for the time being it is what it is.  

Hopefully, more posts to come, very soon.  I promise.

Vulnerability

I've been thinking about this topic for awhile, because I'm noticing the universe changing its message to me.  It's telling me it's time for me to open up my heart.  As luck would have it, a discussion topic came up on one of my female dominant/male submissive groups on Fetlife specifically on how important is vulnerability in a D/s relationship. I think the author was hoping it would spark some discussion between the two subsets of people the group catered to; however, it only generated 2 posts to the thread, both from men talking about being vulnerable at the moment of submission. I'm not saying this view is not less valid.  On the contrary, it takes enormous strength to give someone your power.  By giving deeply of yourself, you are exposing yourself to someone you hope is worthy of this. 

Vulnerability is something you go through whenever you go into any a deep relationship with someone, whether it's a kinky or vanilla.  It's the act of opening up your heart to someone.  What I want to say in this section is that a dominant opening herself to her submissive is no more different than what a submissive does for his dominant.  I am bringing myself to this relationships, which means telling my submissive about my past loves and lives, both the good and the bad, hoping that he doesn't reject me.  I'm assuming that he is also doing the same. I am opening up my heart to someone, and so is he.  And at that point we are both vulnerable and hope that we are not harmed in the process. 

Vulnerability takes away the veneer of ego and expectations.  Vulnerability strips us of our barriers and our expectations, while we bare our fears out in the open.  It makes us more compassionate, more humble, more open to new feelings and ideas, once acceptance takes hold.  Only then can we build a groundwork that will become what roots a relationship, but there are always risks. 

Case in point, both the dominant and submissive are building a foundation to which the power structures of the relationship will rest on.  Dominants strive to create an environment for a submissive to safely express his/her submission. The submissive is telling the dominant what works for him.  It's not unlike an architect and an engineer designing a tunnel.  However, creating this safe environment isn't easy, and requires some work.  But, you start using the word "work" and suddenly people think its an obligation.  

For a dominant,  I equate this to helping the submissive find his path towards the sun, to feel the light and warmth of the sun to rejuvenate and thrive.  And I am his guide.  As his dominant, I will be laying down tracks, building him shelter from the elements, and helping him dig a tunnel to his path.  This requires me to know him intimately, obtain information he may or may not be willing to give, ask him questions to where he wants to go, love him.  We can adjust the schedule to which this tunnel building can materialize, how this will look like, how deep or shallow this tunnel will be, with always the goal that he will want to be on the other end.  This tunnel may be the size of Grand Central Station and perhaps as opulent, however, the submissive may not want it.  He may be paralyzed by fear, too afraid to make that first step.  He's needs may have changed or it's not helping him.  He really wanted to sail in the sea, not take a train ride to his path to the sun.

This bitter reminder is all that remains of this relationship, and you are left wondering what you went wrong.  How did I read him so badly?  Was I building this for me and not him?  What am I to do with this? Dismantle this or find someone who can use it?  All of that work wasted and suddenly you are standing on paradise after a sub-prime mortgage collapse.  Was the risk worth it?  To fail is to lay our fragility out in the open for ridicule, and I can't think of a more vulnerable position to be in.

Sure, we can both hide our "human-ness" get this world built, and maybe get some of needs met.  Would it be real for the both of us?  I mean, I'm sure both of us don't mind building forts out of sheets, a pair of chairs and some pillows and call it a day.  Sometimes, that's something we seek from time to time.  But if we are both looking for something lasting and long-term that fort will feel lacking.  

We open up, regardless of what side of the slash you're on, and anytime we open up we risk being rejected.  But it is through vulnerability that we get to know each other.

Pondering my own mortality

I realized today that both my personal journal writing and this blog have touched on issues of growing old.  Sorry to veer off the sex/kinky path for a bit, but I can't help but think about my own mortality.  

This thinking got me started when I visited my mother during Thanksgiving weekend.  I hadn't seen her for awhile and was worried about her.  Her itinerant/independent ways have taken her from a strange journey from uprooting herself from the SF Bay Area after she retired, to Kansas, then back to California, where she is staying where my roots started.  She is among family and friends, so I need not worry.  Nevertheless, her memory isn't what it used to be and her sense of adventure have subsided quite a bit.  I look at her now and she looks like she's aged 10 years.  But she is 70 years old now.  Why did I just noticed that she is old?  

Then this past Thursday, my aunt called me to tell me my uncle died.  I was stunned, then a few hours later I cried, at work.  Yes, we were close.  He was, at one point, close to a father figure I had as a child.  So his death hit me pretty hard and I regret not visiting him when I had the chance.  As of now, I'm still awaiting news of when his funeral will be scheduled.  I've already told Mom I was attending both that and the burial.

When did I become old myself?

I've known many years ago that I stopped being "young".  Heh...I would argue that I never felt young even when I was youth.  All those things I'm suppose to do when I'm young, like sexual experimentation and having a wild life?  I did once I turned 30.  I don't feel old, but I know I'm not going to be able to party (and recover) when I was 18.  Actually, I don't want to be 18.  I like the me that is now. the over-the-hill, "bitter" woman who should be angry at my younger counterparts because their boobs are perkier.  But...I'm far from bitter, and I'm having better sex now than when my boobs defied gravity. (Not that my boobs look awful now, the guys in my life love my boobs.) 

The only thing I have for posterity is my writings, this blog and my written journals that I've written since I was 18.  I'm not so egotistical to think that they will be as interesting to read as Anais Nin's diaries, but I want to keep them until I die.  Then, I don't know, have one of my nieces read them and destroy them?  Then there's this blog.  But in the end it doesn't matter, for I will no longer exist to care of such things. 

As someone who holds Buddhist philosophical views, I don't believe in an afterlife.   I will come back to where I came from, back to earth, with my energy back to the universe.  My ego would like to think that I influenced some people, that I did some good, that my love will be remembered in fondness, that people will be sad when I go before I die.  At least I don't believe that I will live my life where I will never have regrets anymore.  Even if you live an intentional life, you will have regrets.  Because time is finite, and it  will destroy you like a Mexican God.

Intentionality

I felt the need to write this post because my life seems to be not in sync at the moment.  A financial roadblock, accompanied by some unusual hormonal activity in my body,  followed by some light seasonal affective disorder (even though it feels like spring here), has forced me to slow down and be introspective again, just when I really wanted to be social and gregarious.  Oh well.  I do know that I have friends and lovers who understand me and love me all the same, even if I'm feeling under the weather.  I'm also better at voicing what troubles me now and seeking help.  Still, this current blue period has me worrying that it will influence how I think about myself, which simply will not do!

As I was making brunch, it occurred to me that one of the things I wanted to do this year is to begin to live my life with full intentionality.  What I mean by that is to live with intent, to be positive and be proactive.  Well, to be honest, it's been what I've been doing all along, probably what has been motivating me ever since I started this blog.  I set out on this journey to live my own truths, and the first half of this blog was about finding those truths.  The past year was all about integrating my kinky and poly self into the whole of my personality and being.  Seems like the next chapter of this seems to be focused on what to do with all of this knowledge.

Well, one of the most obvious thing for me to change is my finances, which the universe has graciously allowed the space to happen, even when I wasn't ready to face it.  Thanks universe.  But, I paid off my car and I have some side gigs, so it's not all that bad.  This turn of events let me to think about my future.  Having no children nor own any property, the one thing I can do now, aside from paying off my debts, is save for retirement.  Why not!  Even if I retire (Which is doubtful), I will be living my life for another 40 years.  If you think about that, it's another lifetime.  Then I had this wonderful conversation over NYE weekend with my roommate about his idealized plans living in a semi-itinerant lifestyle by setting up a base in a commune like community in upstate New York.  It sounded delightful, although my version of it would be like a Buddhist retreat.  It made me wonder how much money would I need to live in a place like that.

On a more moderate time frame, the other thing I've been doing, and mind you this has been subconscious on my part, has been focusing on my career.  I have been reading some great non-fiction, not self-help books per se, but inspirational for me nonetheless.  I picked up Lean in before Christmas.  Despite legitimate criticisms regarding its classist overtones and how it perpetuates the corporate system, I thought it was a great book.  As someone who's career have been in various corporate settings, I found the advice to be practical and refreshing, based on sound feminist thinking.  Currently, I'm reading  Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking.  So far, so good. All of these books is making me consider taking public speech classes, and seriously thinking about going back to college to either get my PMP Certification or MBA.  I'm also trying to learn MS Access. Trying...it's harder than it looks.  Hey, if I can understand and master SQL databases, I can rule the (admin) world :)  Who knows...maybe I can get a new job even.

That is to say, I don't want to set aside the strides I made last year, nor ignore the relationships I've forged within the kinky/poly world.  My foundation within this community has been nothing but astonishing for me.

So here's to 2014.  Let it be known as the year of intentionality. 

What a difference a year makes...and what may come.

I was talking to my co-worker recently about various things in her life.  She had to talk to her mother about something extremely uncomfortable, because she was placed in a precarious position to have to set limits.  As we talked about her situation, I commented about how things have finally settled for me.  I told her that no matter how insipid or annoying things got for me this year, nothing compared to the pain and anguish I experienced the same time last year.   In fact, I've been able to cope with the surprises in my life, and a shift in my circumstances with relative ease, though not without some kind of effort.  It is nice to know that I'm finally on the other side of this, or at least be able to take a step back and look at what happened with a clear head.  I'm not saying that my life has been easy in the past 12 months.  I don't have to say it, just read my posts this year.  But, at least I'm settled enough to be able to date other people, and finally focus on myself. 

Yet, I feel that I have not been alone in having to go through pain and hardship.  It seems that my other friends have endured their share of breakups and disappointments this year.  I know a group of people having to deal with some vile behavior that is going on for 2 years, that involved a possible outing, and legal action.  Still others who are embroiled in some drama, that is spilling into the kink community at large.

Speaking of kink community, if you are to believe everything you see on Fetlife, there appears to be a huge rupture in the community regarding communication and personal responsibility.  The only thing I'm going to say about that is this: 1) It's sparking debate and dialogue.  2) Things are finally coming into the light that needed to be exposed, and 3) There are people who are committed to change the community for the better.   As someone who is and isn't part of this community, from my point of view, it's not as fractured as some people think it is.  It's probably not as healthy as most adherents claim to be.  But some lesson need to be learned time and time again.  I think a shakeup like this is a good thing, complacently is dangerous for this kind of community.

So if I was to give advice to all my friends who are going through a rough time right now, or a community that needs healing it's this, you will get to the other side of this pain.  I can't tell you if it's going to be easy or quick.  I'm not clairvoyant.  But this will end.  You may stumble along the way, make some hard decisions, and make some changes, but pain and suffering have a way of teaching you about yourself and about your place in the universe.  You have to be open and patient to listen to it.  And it takes time and space to get to the other side.   

No, I don't think I'm done making changes to my life.  Right now, it looks like I have to get my work and financial house in order.   Not to mention, I'm not naive to think that I will stop suffering.  I'd like to think that I have the tools to deal what may come, or at least have a better frame of mind.   At the very least, I can enjoy myself, cultivate the new relationships I've acquired, and continue to work on integrating my power into my real life. 

Control vs Controlling

I wrote a little about control here but I wanted to elaborate on my thoughts about this subject.

Just to reiterate, I still maintain that total control is an illusion. I still believe that.  Control is a force of nature, like water.  You can't control water.  It flows to places where it will encounter the least resistance, forging creeks, rivers, lakes, and oceans. 

We think we are in control, because we do things and hold onto small things that make us feel like that we are masters of our universe. But that is not real control; that is being controlling. Real control and being controlling are two very different things.

Being controlling is giving away your power, and letting your flight/fight response guide you. Being controlling is reactionary, based on fear and insecurities. When we try to push people to our whims, when we try to manipulate situations to mirror our wants and desires, regardless if the players consent to this or even aware of this, this is what being controlling means.  Sometimes these efforts work.  But it's like deception, at some point it becomes burdensome and unyielding.  Then you become a slave at maintaining this illusion. 

Real control encompasses power, influence, effort and luck.  Real control is tempered by responsibility, integrity, and compassion. Real control is complicated and is an exercise in patience.

Only when I learned to let go of control did I understand real control. I needed to step back and see the big picture and that all those small details that I would obsess on were distractions. To understand control, one must know yourself, know your strength and weaknesses, question your motives, and take risks. It is the choices you make and constantly learning from them and refining them.

Portraits

My ex-husband painted a portrait of me using traditional renaissance techniques , using hand-made ground pigments in oil, dammar varnish and gesso on a panel covered in linen sized with rabbit skin glue.  I am posed laying on my side, dressed in my blue pajamas, with my hands laying in front of me, my hand framing my face while my left hand prominently  displaying my gold-leafed wedding ring.  I am not smiling, rather, I am in contemplation.  Not because I'm lost in profound thought, but because posing for a long periods of time is a test in endurance.  As far as paintings go, the portrait itself is not very big.  It is sizable enough that I've had problems displaying it on walls or mantels without leaving an impression that I'm vain.  So, it's currently not anywhere in my home.  I do love it, and I couldn't ask for a better representation of me in a particular time and place. 

When we separated, my ex-husband gave me my portrait.  He also gave me  another painting that  represented love in its early stages for us.  He couldn't be near me without being hurt, so any remnants of me needed to be purged. He took those paintings off his gallery on his website.  For awhile, I couldn't look at my portrait either.  For me it represented youthful idealism long faded.  It hid behind a door for a long time. 

I've since displayed it in my last home, on a the mantel in fact.  It was one of the first thing people noticed when they walked into the front room.  I look at my portrait with fondness.  It wasn't a bad time for me, I just needed to find the true me.  Then a week ago, while I was writing this and trying to figure out where this piece was going, I went to my ex-husband's art website.  I'm not sure when it happened but to my surprise, my portrait was on display.  He even updated the description to say that it was a portrait of his ex-wife.  It made me smile.  We've been friends for awhile, so my portrait has become a fond memory for him.

If someone painted another portrait of me, of the me that is now, I would wonder how it would look like.  Would someone paint me like the stereotypical dominant female, in a corset carrying a crop?  Oh God I hope not.  I do hope that whomever this artist is, he or she will capture my spirit, this new energy I'm emanating.  I would not be so shy, I would hope that I'd be painted in a dress, that shows my figure, with my hair flowing in the air, displaying a look on my face that I am comfortably with the me that I have become.

I feel the need to put myself in display.  It's time to describe myself in my words, to tell my story, to tell you who I am.  It's as if the universe is telling me, it's time to get out of my shell, you have processed enough of the pain of the past few months.  Because the universe have given me more people in my life,  to occupy my thoughts, to wrap my legs around, to feel them, to touch them, and to crave them.  But the universe has not settle with just this.  The universe has felt the need to test me, to see how I would react to others negative influences.  The universe is telling me to ask for what I want.  So, you might see me writing selfishly, about me and distilling what I do and why I do them.  It's time to display my feathers.  It's time for another portrait.

My dominance is made not born.

This post is a response to all the claim that his/her dominance was somehow innate.  I understand that this may be a case for some people.  As for me, It never felt like that.  If anything, I always felt that I was thrusted into this role against my volition.  I was taught I shouldn't be a strong female.  Yet, everything in life has shown me otherwise.  

What I was born with was an incurable sense of curiosity, a strong ego, an independence streak, a body that is sexually insatiable, and a quirky self-defense mechanism aka my self depreciating humor.  I was born to be a shameless hussy.  I don't deny that my personality have a big part of this.  After all, how you react to what life throws at you determines how you are going to act.

But let's not ignore life experience in the equation.  Part of my life experience was forged out of years of mistakes, broken hearts and egos, and wondering who the fuck I was. Every time I was in a relationship with a guy who chided me for not letting him control things, or when anyone told me being a strong female was unattractive and that I would always be alone, would make dents to my armor, but did not break me.  Every time things would fall to the wayside, I would pick up the pieces and move on, because shit needed to be done.  I can add all the thankless little tasks I would do for the people I love, the painful obstacles that I had to endure, the stupid decisions I made that lead me to here. Let's not forget the positive things, the impromptu solutions that turned out to be serendipitous, the discoveries I've made, and the people who've I've met and loved along the way have made meaningful contributions.  

This is what has made me what I am today, and it is what I draw my dominance from. My dominance was forged from my experiences and my personality.  Not unlike becoming a soldier.  All soldiers are made, but great soldiers are cultivated in battle, under life and death situations.  Yes, it's work, but I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Being alone..but not really

When I came out to my ex-husband, I told him that my dating pool just shrunk considerably. He kept telling me that I'll find someone, and repeated that mantra to me, to reassure me. But he just didn't get it. As a poly person, there is no “one person”.  I let it slide. It was late and I didn't have the heart to explain it.

I think I eluded to dating in the poly/kinky world in the past, but even where I live, in what seems to be kink mecca, there's not a lot of poly/kinky people out here.  Actually, it's quite incestious at times. For example,  my hypno/magic friend have dated two women with whom I've been acquainted with in my social circle. So yes...it's that tiny. Now, I've opened up my dating pool to include vanilla/monogamous. But as many a post in Fetlife can attest, dating vanilla/monogamous people, as a poly/kinky person, have their own set of problems. Nevertheless, I was once vanilla and monogamous, surely I'd find some who may be interested in exploring this “lifestyle”, or at the very least can get to understand what it is I am.

Making the decision to become a poly/kinky person made me realize that not only was I going to run into people who probably won't understand what this means, but that I will run into people who will judge me and disapprove.  I'm ok with that. No, I haven't ran into judgy people yet; but then again, the only other person I've told about this, besides the ex-husband, is my roommate.  He's the last person to ever judge me, since he's had open relationships in the past. 

Because I want to be responsible about this, I need to disclose my poly/kinky status early on in the relationship, preferably in the attraction phase, before things become enmeshed.  But in practice, just starting that dialogue is problematic. Many people think that just talking about the subject, ruins “the mystery” of letting the relationship unfold on its own. I will write about this odd communication quirk in another post. Suffice it to say, my own attempts at trying to do just that have failed miserably.  I'm also having to screen for people with whom I can trust to tell them about my status and my instincts tell me that a lot of people couldn't handle this disclosure.

All of this brings me to my main point...that I will be in this semi-single state for awhile, and that I will have to accept that I will be alone for most of it.  Okay, to be fair, I've felt alone in those last few months before I broke up with M, and I felt periods of loneliness in my marriage.  It's just that what I usually do is go from one heavy-duty relationship after another, and this is the first time I haven't done so.  Instead, the universe is very clear on what I need to do right now...that I need to be comfortable being alone.  With my time and space not being occupied to a relationship, the universe would like me to work on myself...by creating,  by being open and expansive with people and situations, and by attending to my spiritual needs.

And one of the revelations that has revealed to me recently is that I'm really not alone.  On a mundane level, I have friends and lovers who love me and who are there for me.  Some of them are actually vanilla folks who don't know my poly/kinky side.  But most of them are my kinky friends and lovers have been supportive of me ever since the break-up.   I can even add my roommate to that list.  On a spiritual/esoteric level, I am never alone.  All of those talks/books on Buddhism, that I've been surrounding myself for the last 9 months, have taught me that I am part of the known universe, from the smallest quark to the largest supernova.  How can I say that I am alone when I keep such meaningful company!

I'm really surprised that I didn't start this whole journey of mine like this over five years ago, when I started this blog.  But then again, I don't think I was ready for it.  I'm not sure why I'm ready for this now.  Perhaps I had to meet M in order to find the poly/kinky side of me, and now that I've found it, I'm whole?  All I know is that I'm not in a rush to get into a primary relationship, although from time to time I do ponder that it would be nice to be in one.  But that feeling is like childhood nostalgia, fleeting and not rooted in reality.  No, I'm not obsessed with it, and I'm really loving my freedom.

The long complicated process of letting go...or trying to.

A few weeks ago, I woke up one Sunday to an immeasurable sadness that came over me quite suddenly and unexpectedly, as I tried to get ready to take my walk to the farmers market. As I let this sadness take over me, I sat on my bed crying uncontrollably. Eventually I made it to the farmer's market.  But when I came home, while trying to explain to someone via text what happened, I again cried. My attempt of rationalizing this sadness only lead to confusion and doubt. It became apparent that I couldn't rationalize why I felt this way.

Since I moved into this place, I always felt this presence around me. Now, let me make this clear; I prefer to use observable explanations and make analytical judgements on the world around me. I like to think that most things can be explained rationally. I do have some beliefs, but I don't think it conflicts with what is known. Nevertheless I “felt” a presence, something tugging me when my guard is down. That Sunday I think I figured out what that was. It was the shadow figure of something I invoked out of M. Something that the both of us was probably not ready to invoke.

For you see, at one point, when we were deep into our D/s period of our relationship, I found M's little boy. I think that presence is this little boy. I picture him as a young boy of five, with blond hair and big blue eyes looking at me as if waiting for answers and reassurances.  He always looks sad.

Now, I don't know if M left his little boy with me out of a deliberate decision to cut that part of his life because he didn't need him anymore, or that he broke all ties with me and his old life so severely that he forgot that his little boy was on my side of the bridge he was burning. Or simply, that I could not let him go...because he was mine.  I suppose, because of our protracted break-up, I am now coming into terms with the fact that I have feelings for M, that I am still hurting, and that I am a long way of being healed. This was my first D/s relationship and such, it's the most intense relationship I've ever been. I think we both hurt each other unintentionally because frankly, we just fumbled along with this. And to tell you the truth, I really didn't know what I was doing. Does anyone?

I really don't want to let M's little boy go. I still love him. I want to mother him like he should have been. That little boy is very special to me. I keep him very close to my heart. But after that morning, I wonder, is it healthy for me to keep him? After all, he is not mine to keep...is he? He belongs to M, whether M wants him or not.

After asking much needed advice to my friends, I decided that I need a ritual to talk to this little boy, to show him how much I love him, to set him on his way back to M. Yet, I have a hard time trying to do this. Again, there is a part of me that is reluctant to let him go. But the other part of me thinks this is silly.  There is no such thing as a presence.  All of this is just a convenient way of denying myself what really is going on...that I'm not over M.  The little boy is just a metaphor for M, that M is with someone else, and the fact that he doesn't love me anymore still hurts me.

Nevertheless, I still "feel" that this little boy is with me. I can still feel his presence and I think he feels lonely and abandoned; The very conditions that brought him to existence to begin with.  Perhaps the little boy is with me because I feel that way too. Convenient delusion or not, we both need closure. So I must do this. I want to do this correctly, but I'm not sure how.

 

Intermezzo No. 1

So, there have been some minor skirmishes since I last written here. All of it at work. Despite still having a job and managing to survive, I'm still sort of feel confused and very discombobulated over it. Just when I thought things have settled for me there, people and events keep coming to me that makes me wonder if there are more to come. I still think that there is more to this that I'm not seeing. The universe has been insisting that I am on the right path. It's just that at the moment, I don't see the big plan. Or, perhaps, I am to forge ahead in order to move the story forward.  

Despite this veil, a couple of things have come up that have let me see a few steps on my path.  I'm going to write these in two posts, just so that I can give them both the time and space it deserves.

 

In the meantime, I guess I'm just going to let you all know that I'm doing rather well, even with all the drama at work. My home life is relatively stable and still very positive. My roommate is wonderful and I've gotten to know my neighborhoods intimately, by first eating through it, then walking miles and miles of it. One day, I will start running it.

I want to thank you for your patience on me not writing in awhile; The universe seems to have designs for me that I must heed.  In the meantime, a musical interlude that sums up what I've been feeling.  Enjoy :)

Conversations with the Ex-Husband

One of the first things I did when I moved into my new place was call my ex-husband.  I think I was asking him about open studios and we ended up talking about M and our own relationship.

He now has a girlfriend who he loves and gives love in return.  He does report that she has a hard time when he talks about me in front of her, despite the fact that there is nothing between us romantically.  But he likes the fact that she does get jealous, something he considers is a sign that she cares for him.  Now, neither of us will not end our friendship;  however, I'm not going to go over to his place to hang out with him as pals. 

It is odd to be writing about the person that was the impetus of this blog;  The person I was estranged with and dealing with a loss of our marriage.  I don't think I need to tell you how easy this process has been for me, all you need is to read my past entries.  I can't speak for him, he went through some similar processing, discovering himself and what he wanted from his life.  But I can tell you, with a definite degree of certainty, that I consider him my best friend, and perhaps my love of my life.  I am glad to report that Time does heal, for the both of us, to the point that I can still have  poignant conversations with him.  Interestingly enough, my conversations haven't deviated much from when we were married.  We had lovely conversations about lots of stuff back then. 

Let's go back a year or two for some background.  He called for me for, oh I'm not sure now...to meet him for lunch?  It was something rather mundane.  At the end of that conversation, he stated he found my OKCupid profile.  He asked if this was something I had up before I meet M.  I told him, "It's something like that."  What didn't happen was a conversation about me being Poly and kinky.  I doubled checked my profile, and yup..the first sentence in that first paragraph, it stated that I was Poly and Kinky.  I was a bit disappointed that he didn't mention it, but let it go.

A couple of weeks after I broke up with M, I talked to D again; this time, I casually come out to him as Poly and Kinky.  He said he knew, after reading my OKCupid profile.  In an emotional exchange through text I told him, out of the everyone I knew, it was really important for me to come out to him.  Because if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be the person I am today.  It is this start that gave me the courage to seek out the potentiality of what I can be.  It is this gift he gave me, and one that I will always be grateful.

42

Ah yes...the meaning of life.  I don't know why this number has always been special for me.  Maybe because I fell in love with Douglas Adams at such an impressionable age.  I ravished his books, which helped me form my outlook in life, and develop my sense of dry humor.  He also inspired me to write.  Ok, it has taken me years to get to that point, but for some reason he made me realize that being quirky and weird is a beautiful thing in the world.

It is also my birthday, and I am the same age as the meaning of life.  If I was prone to finding signs where there are none, I would say that this is an auspicious year.  The realist in me knows that I can not rest on such precarious laurels.

Yet, despite my work life, life itself is wonderful.  I am loving my home life.  I have a great roommate and have a home that is peaceful, with no drama.  My love life could be better, but honestly I am truly happy being on my own, without being beholden to anyone else.  I am not without love however. I am blessed with an abundance of love given to me by my friends and lovers.

Because of this, I want to tell people how happy I am to be turning 42.  Yet, even at work, there is an unspoken rule that we should never ask anyone's age.  Especially around your birthdays, lest you offend someone.  It's sad really.  I want to tell people how old I am.  So I can show off my geeky side and make my tribute to my favorite writer Douglas Adams.  I want to tell everyone the story of 42, and why its not about asking about THE question, its about asking about the RIGHT question.  I want to revel in my maturity, the wisdom I have gain, and dammit...show off how wonderful and sexy 42 can be, shall be!

My plans for my birthday?  Get my hair done, get a mani-pedi, get my eyebrows done.  Perhaps get a massage?  Not sure.  Treat myself to dinner, and drinks...perhaps at Flora.  Eat cake!!!  Then make time in the middle of that to do my timesheet....because I forgot to do my fucking timesheet!  Fuck you work!

But let's not end this positive post with work; because god knows I've spent an ungodly amount of time dealing with stupidity at work in the last few weeks.  Seriously, if anyone needs a high level admin person who has become a wizard with spreadsheets and scheduling, let me know :D

Where was I?  Oh right...42.  So here's to grabbing my towel, hitching a ride, and discovering the universe on my terms, with my eyes open, and laughing at the absurdity of life and love.