I created 2 new email discussions to go along with StrictlyDs and StrictlySM tonight. StrictlyMs (for master or mistress and slave relationships) and StrictlySpank (for relationships that involve spanking or paddling - discipline, punishment, play, etc).

It's obvious my brain is in overdrive lately.

Let’s talk about food for a minute.

Sometimes y’all get a little more than you bargained for when you come here, don’t ya?

Most people don’t have problems with food. Others have problems like allergies, side-effects and the like.

Me? My problem with food is that I feel guilty eating it.

I’ve always been heavy. My father is heavy. My aunt is very heavy. My grandmother was no small person, either.

I’m not sure why, but my Mom always had an issue with my weight. I think that maybe if she hadn’t, my head wouldn’t be so fucked up about it now. I’ve always felt “inappropriate” because of my weight. Because if I was okay the way I was, my mother wouldn’t have been trying to change me, would she? (And for the record, I love my mother dearly, and have no angry or unresolved feelings about this with her. I’m past that. I don’t blame her for my weight, or the problems I have in my life because of the weight.)

When I was younger, it felt like every bite I ate was watched. Mom would sometimes give me a stern look, or even yell at me for eating something she thought I shouldn’t. Consequently, I learned how to hide what I ate. I learned how to hide food, to eat in private, to enjoy those “stolen treats” more than any meal I’d eat sitting at a table. The food I ate secretly was what I enjoyed. Meals were just to cover and pretend to be “a good girl.” I remember loving it when she worked part-time sometimes, because I could come home from school and devour half a package of Oreos before she got there. And I did sometimes, even knowing that she’d come home and find them gone and yell at me. Maybe it was defiance or rebellion.

I’ve carried that stupid ass trait into adulthood. I *still* have a tendency to eat in private, although I’m not nearly as psycho about it as I used to be. And I don’t hide food anymore.

But I still have the guilt. And that’s what I’m working on right now: The guilt from eating, and the feeling “inappropriate” because I’m overweight.

The last few days, I’ve just tried eating only when I’m hungry, and only what sounds good. If nothing does, I keep looking until something does – or – munch on some pretzels until something does.

As far as how I feel about being “inappropriate”, that’s taking a little more work. But I am working on it.

Vague?

Expressing Needs, by someone who hates being needy.

I can quote my husband many times: “Could you BE anymore vague?”

He says that to me a lot (though, I’ll wager a guess he’s not saying it now, with all the writing I’ve been doing lately). When I tell him I want or need something, I don’t make myself as clear as I could, giving him examples and such. I didn’t know why that was for a long time. I tried to be clear. I tried to give examples. I tried to define just what it is I was wanting and/or needing.

But the fact is that I wasn’t. And why? Because I hate needing anything. I hate feeling “needy” – and needing something and needy go hand in hand in my head.

M drilled the word “need” out of me. For four years, he didn’t want to hear that word. Not from his lips, not from mine. It was taboo. And it’s stayed that way for me, because I haven’t found the little button in my head to push to say that it’s okay to need something again.

Truth is, though, that I’m a human being. And all human beings have needs. Some things that we think we need are really wants in disguise, but there are things that we need in our lives – that make us feel like…well, us.

I think, too, that there’s a difference between “survival” needs, and “well-being” needs. Survival needs are things like food and water. Well-being needs are things like love, companionship, and a good sound thrashing now and then (whoops – did I say that out loud?). Both of these things are important to us – one physically, one emotionally.

Are our emotional needs less important than our physical ones? Or, is it just easier for us to spell out own physical needs, because those are something we have “no control” over. “I have to have fluids to drink. Human bodies are built that way.” Whereas, if we say “I have to have love in my life. Human beings are built that way” it’s seen as something of a weakness – an emotional hole that begs to be filled – a requirement or demand another person in our lives?

Regardless of all that trivia, the fact remains that I – Screamer_Girl – have trouble expressing my needs in a clear and direct manner to my dominant. I’ve begun the process of sorting out the wants, needs, desires and curiosities from each other. It’s a lengthy process, but I’m dissecting each thing as it comes down the pipe. Is this something I want to do? Need in my life? Am curious about? Is it something I’ve done before with C? With someone else? Is it something I’ve written about? Dreamed about? Fantasized about? What about it appeals or repels me? Is it something that makes me hot? Makes me feel more vulnerable? Makes me feel more submissive? Does it hit the “Top ten ways to make Screamer scream” list? Does it make me feel giddy? Guilty? Abnormal? Am I willing to put myself on the line to ask for it? Is it worth getting into a heavy discussion over? Is it worth the pain of being rejected for? Ridiculed for?(*note, C has never ridiculed me for anything I’ve asked for) To be clear with C, I need to be able to be clear with ME. That’s not as easy as it sounds.

(If you’re asking yourself why I’m writing this, it’s because I know I can’t possibly be the only submissive that feels like this.)

In all that I’ve written the last week or so, I feel like I’ve started to break through that. I’m not there yet, but I’m at least on my way. I’m going to write an essay for C that explains to him what it is that I *do* need. I started working on it, but it’s not nearly done. Writing in the blogger has certainly helped me along though. I find that if I pick a topic, and stay true to it through a dissertation, that I can pull my own desires from that, while still writing about other parts of it.

For someone who’s as verbose and long-winded as I am, you’d think I’d be better at this.

Collars
Or…What’s this around my neck?
(posted also on Screamer's Rants Raves and -isms)

Just to be clear, before I start. I don’t have a “regulation” BDSM collar. I haven’t had one in either of my relationships with C. We never had a “collaring ceremony” either time. We don’t discuss collars, except for me to say to him occasionally that I’d love to have another leather one, just for occasional wear.

I do, however, wear an old Army dog tag of his around my neck. I’ve worn it since a few weeks after we got back together. He didn’t give it to me, I asked for it. It was hanging on a nail by the door of his apartment. It hasn’t come off (except for metal detectors at the airport) since then. I wear it as a reminder of him. When I start missing him, I’ll reach down and pull it out of my shirt, and “hug” it with my fist. It’s a sentimental thing.

When we were together before, he bought me a gorgeous necklace; a faery standing on a purple glass heart. It was to be considered my “collar”. I can still hear the sound of the box it came in (with the necklace inside), slamming down on the wooden kitchen table when we broke up. He didn’t ask for it back; I gave it to him because I thought – at the time – in my deluded AOL-taught D/s manner – that that was what I was supposed to do. I was angry with him – for what I perceived at the time was the shattering of my dreams, and for not loving me enough. After several weeks, he gave it back to me, and told me that it had been a gift. Before I left for California, we had a well-intended, but odd “un-collaring”, where I put the necklace on, and he took it off me (presumably, for the last time). I took it with me to California, and it hung on my rearview mirror for a long time, before I finally took it down when it started to bother M. After I took it down, I kept it in its original box in my dresser. I didn’t wear it again until after M and I had broken up, and I went to my first munch solo. I wore it then as a symbol of my independence. I still have it. I’ve worn it a few times since C and I got back together, but it no longer symbolizes a collar to me. It’s a beautiful piece of jewelry that the man I love gave to me when we were young, in love, and not quite ready for the ds relationship we knew we wanted to have.

With M., I had a real “ds trappings” collar. Beautiful piece, made by CJ in Denver (CL-70 on the page). I loved that collar, and everything I thought it symbolized. It was my first “real” one. I helped pick it out, and I wore it out of the store. M put it on me, with CJ standing right there. It was a heady, romantic experience. When M. and I broke up, I hung onto the collar for awhile. I finally, after about 2 months, cleansed it of my essence (with a spiritual ceremony), and sent it back to him. I expected a “thank you”, or at least an acknowledgement. I got neither. That epitomized the entire relationship for me. I knew then that what I believed to be true about him had been false from the beginning.

Collaring seems to be an online phenomenon. In all the research I’ve done over the years, I’ve never found a reference for it anywhere else (except online). (If anyone has a living, breathing reference to where a collaring was done before the invention of the internet, please let me know). A collar, then, is a piece of metal or leather worn around the throat for the purposes of fashion, bondage or animal play. The act of “collaring”, however, has grown in gigantic proportions over the internet, in chat rooms, in discussion groups and at munches and parties. “I can’t talk to you, I’m collared”, etc. In IRC, you are supposed to put {dominant’s name or initial here} after your name. On AOL, you’re supposed to put mention in your profile that you’re “collared” to so-and-so. And on email lists, invariably an introduction will feature a line such as “I’ve been collared to MrHeManDominant for six months”. (I’m not saying anything is wrong with this, by the way. I’m just stating what I’ve observed in nearly 10 years of online BDSM interaction.)

Inasmuch it seems, a collar is a symbol, rather than a bondage toy. It symbolizes a committed relationship between two or more people. People get all up in arms about whether a collar is more important than a wedding or engagement ring. So I decided (after my long-winded introduction up there – lol) to give my views on this subject.

I like having something around my neck. I love turtlenecks for this reason. I love those velvet chokers you used to be able to buy at Claire’s. I love those silver “V” necklaces (which is actually called a collar necklace, too – or a sweetheart necklace), too. (I just bought a new one in Cheyenne, after having given the one that M. bought me years ago away). I even like a hand around my neck sometimes. Since I like leather, it seems only natural that I’d like to have a leather collar as well.

I can pretty much say, though, that unless the collar has a d-ring in the front onto which you can attach a leash, it’s not really anything more than a fashion statement for me. If C can reach up and grab that d-ring, and yank me around – then yes – it becomes more of a ds item, and less of an accessory. Again, a collar is a symbol. If the people involved buy a leather or metal collar for the express purpose of showing a commitment, then that’s what it will symbolize.

I see all these “collaring ceremony” websites out on the ‘net. I wonder if the people involved in these elaborate ceremonies are still together. Have they made it past six months? Did they factor a reality into their romantic gesture of “loving d/s”? Or, did they – as so many before them – get caught up in the pomp and circumstance and forget all about sick children and broken-down cars? I worry about people who don’t live in this reality.

Okay, before you start sending me nasty email, no – I don’t believe its all hooey. But some of it is.

I didn’t get collared to my dominant. I married him. I wouldn’t have married him if my commitment to a ds relationship hadn’t been strong, because that’s what brought us together in the first place. There really wasn’t any need for a collaring “ceremony” for us. We had all that covered on our own. When on IRC, yes – I have the little {C} behind my name, for clarity sake. But you’ll rarely if ever see me use the phrase “collared submissive” in reference to myself. I’m not offended by it, or against using it. I feel everyone has to do what their hearts (and heads – egads – always use your head!) tell them to do. But know what it is, going in. Know that it’s not “old guard leather” and it’s not passed down from generations of “European D/s houses” (which, frankly, I’m very skeptical about). It’s the symbol that you and your partner decide it is. And frankly, that’s all it is.

Pain…
…hurts


Question posed by my wise friend on StrictlySM yesterday:

Why do you want to receive pain?

Want is such a strong word…..

But, I suppose, an accurate one. C and I don’t do a lot of SM. We did, for awhile, when we first got back together, but (as you’ve heard me go on about ad naseum), our time and circumstances lately prevent much of anything in that realm anymore. Do I miss it? Truthfully? Yea, sometimes.

I’m not a masochist. For awhile, I believed I was. I truly thought that I “got off” on pain. But after some self-examination, and experiences, I can truthfully say – that’s not it.

Between the time that I was with M, and before C and I got back together, I went a little wild. I started attending some play parties and groups up in the San Jose and San Francisco areas, and started to play with some different people. I started playing with a man I’ll call G., who became a very good friend to me. Even without realizing it (him – or me), he helped me come to the realization that I am not a pain slut – and what it is about pain that does beckon to me sometimes.

Pain hurts. Pain causes me to focus on the moment, and to be able to stop letting other thoughts cloud my mind. Frankly, it takes every ounce of energy I have to “live through” the pain, and it doesn’t leave any room for worrying about my family, the dishes that need to be done, the bills that need to be paid, or how I feel about how fat my thighs are. I’m not even remotely concerned about how I look naked – if my hair is messed up – if I cleaned out the dishwasher. I don’t have time to think about how worried my mother is, how infantile my sister is, or if my Dad is taking his diabetes seriously. All I can focus on is the pain, and getting through it. I have one of those minds that never shuts up. There is always something that needs to be done, and always something I feel guilty for not getting accomplished. During those minutes of painful play in a scene, my focus is on survival. And after the scene – at least until the next day – my mind is beautifully clear and not at all busy with the minutiae of daily life.

Pain causes me to cry sometimes, which is something that I don’t always ‘allow’ myself to do. As a child, and even into my early twenties, I allowed myself to be conditioned to believe that crying was a sign of weakness and emotional immaturity. It’s got to be a pretty big deal for me to let myself do that. (Funny side note here – for humor’s sake – C and I have discussed several times how he wants to be able to make me cry during a scene. The night before he left on deployment, we were sitting on the bed, and I was – you guessed it – crying. I looked at him and said “Well, you always say you want to make me cry.” And he said “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”)(Also, I’ve always wondered, without asking, why C wanted to make me cry. I mean, I wondered if it was an emotional turn on, or a physical one. I don’t have an answer for that yet, but since I’m sending this to him, maybe I’ll have one for you later.) Crying makes you vulnerable. It shows an emotion that – if you’re like me – you don’t share with just anyone and you don’t share often. There’s a wall that has to be removed to make me share that with someone. Pain will (at least temporarily) sometimes take that wall out.

Expect me to come back to rambling about this at some future date. I believe there’s more to it, but that’s all I have right now.

Back to the Self-Image thing for a minute

Okay, so the last several days, I’ve spent a great deal of time writing about ds. If you’re thinking I’ve abandoned my self-image work, I haven’t. I’ve just been cautiously (and probably subconsciously) diverting myself from that focus, to let some of what I’ve learned, and am reading, sink in.

I’m reading the book Learning Curves by Michele Weston. There is no “cure-all” for bad self-image, but Michele is doing a pretty good job in getting me to recognize some things. I’ve read, and now re-read the chapter on acceptance. It’s difficult to read. And even more difficult to do. But I’m going to keep reading it and meditating on it until I get at least a hint that something is changing.

The one common theme between this book, and the other one I’ve been reading Well Rounded , is that it’s impossible to be completely happy if you continue to put your life on hold until “I’ve lost the weight”. I’ve spent my whole life doing that off and on. So I’m working on that little piece of information, as I shuffle through all my ds thoughts.

Much more – on both fronts – to come.

Just a note here -- if you have a comment or a question about something I've written, you can always drop me an email at thescreamergirl@hotmail.com.

Role-Play
or, how it’s nice to be someone else for awhile


I love my life. I have a great husband, a (mostly) wonderful family, and terrific friends. I’m in relatively good health and sound of mind (mwahaha). I don’t need for anything materially, and there’s rarely something I want that I can’t find a way to get (again, materially).

But sometimes, it’s nice to have a change.

For that reason, role-playing really appeals to me. Now, BDSM people did not invent role-play. People have been doing role-play as long as they’ve been having sex. Husband to wife: “Put on that low cut dress, and sit in the bar. I’ll come in and pick you up like we’re strangers.” Wife to husband: “Just once, for me. Wear the towel and pretend to be Tarzan, please?”

However, BDSM people (I’m using a generic, generalized form here just because it’s simpler. You can feel free to substitute “some BDSM people” or “some freaks of nature” or whatever.) do put role-play to good use, for a number of reasons. (I’m going to list the ones that I know. But you knew that, didn’t you?)

1. Role-play makes some forms of play easier for one or both parties: i.e., the naughty school girl and the rigid professor, if the dominant feels a need to ‘punish’ the submissive.
2. Role-play allows some people to escape their responsibilities as an adult for a period of time i.e., age-play.
3. Role-play allows some people to be more/less aggressive: i.e., prisoner/interrogator or the “dark parking garage” scenario.
4. Role-play allows some people to be…well, not people: i.e., Pony or puppy play.
5. Role-play is a way for some people of suspending belief: i.e., the sex-god. The femme fatale, the hero, the French maid…etc.

(And I know there are more. Drop me a comment and tell me your reasons.)

All but number 4 appeal to me, at various times, for various reasons. (I want to address age-play, but that deserves its own post, so I’ll save that for later). I have no interest in pretending to be a dog or a pony. I’ve seen pony play, most notably at BR’98, and it was beautiful to watch, but I really don’t find it all that…titillating…for myself. I like the idea of “play” punishment in role-play. I like the idea of the whole “dark parking garage” thing (I’ve mentioned that before. Maybe it deserves its own post, too). I actually bought a french maid’s outfit this year and we…Uhhh…made use of it once before C. left. I like the idea of a lot of the things I listed above.

Two things, though: Time, and headspace. Without the time to, it’s too easy to have things go badly. And without the proper headspace (i.e., if we are stressed out, tired and generally cranky), well, there’s really no point in starting it, even if it is planned. Time and headspace are at a premium in this house. Which makes it difficult. Which makes it frustrating. Which makes me impatient.

Hm. Can I role-play a patient person?

I like the idea of giving up responsibility for awhile (age-play). I like the idea of fighting back (dark parking garage, prisoner/interrogator). I like the idea of being someone else for awhile (french maid). I like all these things because sometimes, I get tired of being the one who's always got everything done -- who always takes care of the minutiae, who always does as she's supposed to do.

I probably have higher expectations of myself than anyone has of me. Regardless, though, role-play allows me to step back from those expectations, and just "be in the moment" for awhile.

I like that.

“I HATE THAT”
Or, Limits and Lines


As I said earlier, I was thinking about my need/want/desire/curiosity thing last night, and it occurred to me that I’d missed a very big part of that.

What I don’t need, don’t want, don’t desire and am not curious about. And what to do when things come up that challenge that – for instance, something that C would be interested in (as a want, desire or curiosity) and gives me the big ol’ squick (squick is an internet word, meaning something along the lines of “grosses me out” or “heebie-jeebies”). And additionally, things that I hate .

If there’s something that I don’t need, and C does, he’ll get it. His needs being met are paramount to my needs being met. If we don’t meet each other’s basic needs, we have no business being together.

If there’s something I don’t want, and C does, chances are he’ll get it. His wants are important to me.

If there’s something that I don’t desire, and C does, chances are we’ll try it. And evaluate it afterwards.

If there’s something that I’m not curious about, and C is, we’ll discuss it, and decide if it’s a desire, a want, or a non-issue. (See the pattern here?)

Impromptu Rant Warning

Thing is, though, that even though the illusion of ds to the outsider (and even to the newcomers, and occasionally to people who’ve been around for awhile) is that his (the dominant) needs/wants/wishes and desires are important, and mine only become important when they match his. No, seriously. People actually say that. (If you are one who does, I’ll only apologize for my sarcasm here). People rarely stay where there needs are not eventually and at least occasionally met. If you’re staying in a relationship and are content with your decision to stay, you have needs being met. Maybe not the surface ones – but at least *some*.

End Impromptu Rant – Proceed Normally

The only point not covered in the above 4 points (above the rant) is the I hate that! option. And yes, there are some of those. Both in ds and in life. I hate the fact that my husband is deployed right now and not home with me. I hate it, but I can live with it. It’s not a limit. It’s not a line that can’t be crossed. It’s the way our life is structured, and I knew that when I married him.

So what about the stuff we hate, and can’t live with?

In many, many relationships – we call those “deal-breakers”. As in, “I love you, but I can’t do that. See ya.” I’ve had some of those, in past relationships. In BDSM, they’re most times called “limits”. But that word is carelessly mis-used in the online (and probably off-line) communities these days. For instance, say you have a ball gag fear. When you meet DomlyOne, you tell him ball gags are a limit. But he really likes ball gags. So slowly, he introduces gags to you, and eventually, you can tolerate them. And eventually, you can tolerate a ball gag, too. Was that really a limit? Or was it just a “I don’t desire/want that!” thing?

You can hate something, and still be willing to do it. Up until a year or so ago, I hated hand spankings. I have horrible memories attached to hand spankings, as well as paddles and fucking full-size boat oars (but that’s another story entirely). It wasn’t a limit for me. It wasn’t really even a line. It was just something I didn’t like. This was something that C. really enjoyed; I’d almost say “needed”. So, as in the ball gag example above, we worked up to it.

Guess what? I don’t hate it anymore. I’d almost go so far as to say that spankings/paddlings are a “want” for me.

Limits, for me, are things that morally or spiritually go against my beliefs. Messing with animals, children, relatives. Playing with excrement. Very basic things that I’m safe in saying that I’d never change my mind on. This goes beyond “I hate that.”

Confused? I hope not. Review. You have needs. Wants. Desires. Curiosities. Your partner has each of these, too. You have things you hate. So does your partner. You have limits, in regards to your health, safety and mental esteem. So does your partner. See? Defining each thing at its own level, in my opinion, is pretty important. The more thought you put into your own feelings about something, the more logically you can discuss it with your partner when he or you decide it’s time to bring it up. And the better your chances of getting those needs/wants/desires and curiosities satisfied.

Escape
And not of the Pina Colada Variety


I haven’t played EQ (see March archive, or Everquest ) since Thursday. Matter of fact, I shut down both computers (took my “mule” out of the bazaar, too) on Friday, and just – didn’t play.

I realized during my “clouded moonlight meditation” last night that I’ve been using EQ as an escape from reality. Frankly, I think most of the people who play EQ do that. And there’s nothing wrong with it, provided you acknowledge it, and don’t abuse it.

There have been times I’ve abused it. I’ll admit that. It’s nice to not have to remember that my husband is gone, and won’t be home anytime soon – that my family is still having sadness that my grandfather died – that my sister is still the wicked witch of the Midwest – but eventually, you have to shut the computer off. Course, now that I realize what I’ve been doing – living in the fantasy world of Norrath as my lil wood elf druid, I’ll likely not be doing it so much anymore. Which is fine. Gives me more time to get some other things accomplished.

My energy levels have changed over the last month or so. I’ve spent more time working on the house – on my soap and candle projects – on other little artsy-crafty projects for the house – than I normally do. And I’ve been writing more – here, included. Whatever push I needed, evidently I got.

It’s all good.

After I signed this blasted box off last night, I went out and stood on my little patio. Had Tina Malia's "Shores of Avalon" CD playing (This is an awesome CD, by the way. The music is stuck in my head), and looked up at the cloud covered moon. Very nice. Till the idiot with the mosquito-sounding car came home and ruined the ambiance.

Anyway, while I was standing out there, I was thinking. I spent an hour writing the little need/want/desire/curiosity post, but never got anywhere near the don't need/don't want/don't desire/not curious part of it. In ds, these are all important things, too.

I have a Family Support Group meeting for the boat today, but I'll be back later to discuss that side of the equation.

Let’s talk about the word “need”, and the difference between wants, needs and desires.(And before I start, I’m not talking about basic human needs like food and water here)

And of course, I speak only for myself. As always. Thank goodness.

My own quickie definitions of these words (in a practical BDSM sense):

A need, to me, is something that I’ve done (or had done to me), and it’s become so important to me feeling fulfilled in my relationship, that I require it on a regular, semi-regular or at least occasional basis. (example: domination)

A want to me is something that I’ve either a) done and liked and would like to continue to do (but won’t feel unfulfilled if I don’t), or b) something I’ve thought about/written about/discussed with C. to the extent that I’m ready to embark on discovering it. (example: spanking, slapping, bondage)

A desire to me is something that I’ve either read about, talked with someone about, or thought about casually – and have decided is worth further explanation and experimentation. (example: mock-rape scenes, sensory deprivation)


I’ve got this list of stuff I want to write about here. Tonight, as I was looking through it, I was trying to put each of them into one of those three categories. I had trouble doing that, so I had to add a fourth category:

A curiosity to me is something I might have read about or discussed, but haven’t experienced/haven’t thought about enough to know if I want to do it. (example: humiliation, certain kinds of role-playing)

I actually had, though, the difference between wants/needs/desires as a topic, so that’s the direction I’m going right now. I’ll come back to those examples at a later date.

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I tend to analyze everything – sometimes, analyzing it to death (isn’t that right, Sir? lol). I think about things, and think and think and think. I do tons of research on everything I think I might want to do before I even take it to anyone else for discussion. I drive the world around me nutso sometimes with it. But it’s how I work, and I’ve stopped trying to apologize for it, although I have taken steps to try to be much more spontaneous as well. It will usually take me quite awhile moving from step-to-step above (from a curiosity to a desire, then to a want). I’ll read about it. I’ll write about it. And then I’ll sit on it until it becomes comfortable enough for me to actually talk about it with C.

Good example: Humiliation has been a curiosity with me for many years. I’ve seen some incredible scenes where humiliation was used in such a way that made my insides go to mush. I’ve also heard some horror stories of it’s being mis-used (“don’t try this at home” lol) or being used in a negative way. It’s also something that I’ve spent so much time dwelling on, because frankly, I spent a good part of my life being humiliated (non-consensually) about my weight and such. But there is something about it that does intrigue me, so I keep it in there, in the back of my mind, and revisit it every so often.

For something to move from a “curiosity” to a “desire”, I’ve had to at least come to a point where I’m ready to discuss it with C.

For something to move from a “desire” to a “want”, C and I had to have discussed it, and come to the conclusion that we are ready to try to slide it into our lives, on a trial run basis.

And I’m not sure what moves something from a “want” to a “need”. Beyond deciding that whatever-it-is has become an inherent part of me.

Well, at one point a few months back, I went on and on about spanking (see the March archives and expect that I’ll be back to talking about this again quite soon), I thought maybe it was time to talk about another one of my hot-buttons, which also is a hand on a cheek – slapping.

Way back in 1996, when my friend Sherrie and I created what was then known as “CWDSS” (I think, or something like that) but is now known as Uncommon Ground , I saw a slapping demonstration. At the time, I was appalled and intrigued at the same time. I kept this to myself, not sharing it with C (who I was broken up with at the time, but still friends with) or my soon-to-be-dominant (small d intentional) M. As a matter of fact, I didn’t talk about it for a very long time after. I did think about it, though.

A few years later, I had the opportunity to witness the same couple (who had also moved to CA) practice this interesting activity again. And my reaction to it that time was less appalled, and more enthusiastic.

I talked to M about it. He poo-poo-ed it, for whatever fucking reason (there was *always* a reason), and my desire to try it went unsated for a few more years. A friend of mine in the SF area and I tried it – lightly – once – after M and I split up, but it didn’t push anything in me. I wanted to try it – again – with someone I was involved with.

When C and I got together months later, I mentioned it almost immediately when we started talking about new things we were interested in. A few weeks went by before he actually tried it – purposefully, I think, so I wouldn’t expect it. He had his hand on my throat (palm against my adam’s apple, lightly), and slapped me lightly a few times, across one cheek. (the hand on the throat thing I’ll get into later, but basically, whatever I write about slapping – my reactions and my emotions – it’s the same)

I damn near went to my knees. And not in a bad way.

The reaction – I believe, the activity – and the intensity of the relationship combined – was enormous for me. Little to nothing had made me feel that weak for years. I think both of us were pleased with the outcome.

Except – that it pretty much stopped there. I think he’s done it once – maybe two or three times since. We’ve talked about it. He knows it’s a hot button. I’m not sure if he doesn’t like doing it (which I seriously doubt it is), or if he doesn’t want it to become commonplace, or for me to expect it (which I guess is possible).

Regardless of why it is, it’s on my list of things to talk to him about when he gets home.

As I’m analyzing damn near everything in my life these days, I’ve been thinking about this. And wondering why it makes me feel the way it does.

I have a few ideas, the simplest one of which is that it’s “instant attitude adjustment” for me. Contrary to popular belief, all submissives who live with their dominants do not stay in that “heels and garters/fuck me anytime/I live only to serve” mindset 24/7. How the hell could you? There are groceries to buy, bills to pay, work to do, laundry to fold, families to deal with. I’m not always in the mindset that I devote my entire attention to C. Don’t get me wrong – he gets my attention when he asks for it. But for him to get the completely un-distracted Screamer, I need to either a) have a few minutes to decompress or b) have something happens quickly and out of the blue to take me there immediately. The slap accomplishes that instantly.

Before I go any further analyzing, let me share this with you – although doing so puts me at risk of you saying “she’s nuts” (ha ha – like you weren’t before, right?). I was in an abusive relationship in my early 20’s. It last six months, it ended badly (with me in a safe house and him in jail) and I did the whole counseling thing afterwards. I don’t think I have any lingering aftereffects from it. But you need to know that before I say this next part.

I do not equate violence with love. I once believed that I had to put UP with violence if I wanted to be loved, and I once believed that ‘he wouldn’t hit me if he didn’t love me so much’ (gad-fucking-zuks). Violence is the only means to an end for a man (or woman) who has no intellectual or emotional recourse. In other words, it’s for people who ain’t smart enough to do anything else.

Having said all that, I can tell you that in my case, face slapping is not S&M. It’s not the pain of it (fuck, it hurts when done hard). It’s the mental aspect of it (as it is with so many activities relating to BDSM) that kicks me into overdrive. It’s that “I can do this because you belong to me” thing. It’s that “I don’t want to hurt you, but I do want your attention so listen up” thing.

There are times that I crave that so much my body hurts. And then there are times when I don’t need it. And probably other times – at moments of high stress – where it might have a completely different effect on me altogether.

It’s very difficult – since I moved out here last summer – for C and I to have a whole lot of ds interaction at all, let alone time to devote to something major. He works long hours (and of course, now, he’s gone), and when he gets home, he’s exhausted and stressed (those dolphins – qualifying for the boat – are a hard road). I find myself recently being very distracted by the whole ds thing – wanting it, needing it – more than I was when we first moved down here. I know I’ve got a long wait (come on, December!), and I intend to put my time to good use between now and then.

So, how do I convey these needs to him, when he’s so far away? I send him these entries by snail-mail (Hi, baby )

It’s early. I’ve got more in me – lol. I’ll be back.

This is probably a lost cause, but I gotta try it.

I'm looking for a couple of old internet friends - people I met on AOL years ago. I'd like to say hello.

1. Naughti1 - last known email address was at tiac.net - male - first name starts with a V :)
2. WickedOne9 - last known email address was at aol.com - female - first name starts with a C :)

Know them? Are them? Email me, please

Did some more website cruising today. Found a website for a bdsm channel (BDSM_Virginia), so I downloaded mIRC again and popped in. Man, mIRC has changed. I haven't spent any time in or on chat in AGES. Channels are the same, for the most part. But I signed on to check it out. I'll hang out awhile, see if any good topics come up.

Also found yet another of my essays, attributed to someone else, on a webpage. That just pisses me off. Sent an email. As always, if it's not fixed after two weeks, I'll report it to the web server. I hate that I have to do that at all.

More later.

More Reading Material


Another interesting site that I found (where I could actually quote quite a few things, but we'll start with just this one), was called "Firmly and Fondly", and it was strictly about domestic discipline relationships. While I don't nearly agree with everything on the website, the guy has got some incredible points, and some good quotes, including this one:

Fondly And Firmly/New


begin quote

Robin Skynner quotes a question to his wife and her response:
Why is it that you want us to go after you so hard and really pin you against the wall?
And she said, "Well, can't you see?" - Very impatiently - "can't you see? It's obvious. When you do that we come into our own. We don't have to worry. We can use our energy and aggression and be what we really are and not worry about whether you can take it or not. We become totally free."

end quote

Well no fucking shit.

Ever have one of those moments, where the obvious smacks you in the forehead?
I did. When I read that.

Reading Material



I didn't feel like playing EQ tonight. I don't really feel like watching TV. So as soon as I finish this post(s), I'm going back to my self-image studies.

While cruising around the internet tonight (actually looking at other bloggers on the 100 bloggers project ), I found a couple of interesting websites, and pulled a couple of thought-provoking quotes off them, which I've also sent to C. to peruse.

From The Internal Enslavement FAQ

begin quote

"The Enslavement Hypothesis is that there are submissives who have an overwhelming need to be possessed by a dominant. Given the right environment, the submissive can be coaxed out from behind the protective walls she has built during her life and made to expose all of her Self to her Master. Among other things this requires that he creates an environment which is emotionally safe and in which her underlying character will be accepted, probably for the first time in her life. During this process, the bond between the submissive and her Master becomes sufficiently strong that she can no longer break it herself, and she has then been enslaved."
end quote


This took me somewhere. Somewhere cold (it was January, and it was Nebraska, for gawd's sakes), somewhere exciting (it was the first time I met C. face to face), somewhere scary (well, duh.). As we sat there that night, on the bed of a Motel6 room, eating Little Ceaser's (little seizures - heh) pizza, he told me that he was looking for a slave. At the time, the whole concept of "slave" alarmed me. Who, me? The President of our local NOW Chapter? The Feminist? A slave? HA! Laughable! Never happen. (Keep in mind, it was 1995)

This quote though... I think this is what he meant. This definition - and the definition I had in my head - are so far apart I can't even begin to put them together.

But if this is what he meant...shit.

META note: I did some work on the comment section tonight, so the comments you post will be attributed to the proper post now.

One Comment...
Can last a lifetime

I've been doing some pretty heavy reading about self-image, in particular, how to FIX self-image. One of the books goes on and on about highlighting the positive things about youself, and learning to love the not-so-positive things. One of the things I discovered (doing the book exercises) is that I really like my hands (amongst other things). And I especially liked my hands when I had the acryllic nails. Okay, so I gotta stop and ask myself "Why don't I have acryllic nails anymore, if I liked them so much?". Then I gotta start going back into the past and see what caused me to quit getting them. So. We go just a little ways back, and we find M. (accckkk. My self-image and I would really like to erase M., but unfortunately, we can't). M. was the one who suggested I get the nails in the first place, and he paid for them the first time, and several times after that. (I paid for them in between). It took me about two months after he first suggested me doing it. Why? So. We go a little FURTHER back, and find -- a comment by one of my many ignorant backwards redneck boyfriends, saying something to the extent of "Why would you spend all that money on makeup? You're still fat."

AH HA!

Since the comment by the ignorant redneck, I can look back and say honestly that I rarely spend any money on my *appearance*. I don't get fancy haircuts. I use drug-store shampoo (well, Pantene, but still...). I bet I haven't spent 50.00 on makeup in the last two years, and I rarely wear any. I don't take very good care of my skin. The list goes on. And I realize that I don't do that because somehow, the redneck's comment stuck, and I feel like it's a waste of money. I hate wasting money.

Why, I wonder, did that comment stick, when for the first six months C. and I lived together back in '95, his telling me multiple times daily "how pretty I was" didn't stick? I'm wondering if it's kind of like faction work in EQ:

Faction with Good Guys at start of game: 100
Kill one bad guy: Faction 101
Kill ten more bad guys: Faction 111
Kill one really big bad guy: Faction 121
Kill one good guy by mistake: Faction 111 (negative is a lot more points than positive)
Kill another bad guy: Faction 112

And on and on.

Replace the killing with "comments made to me, about me" and replace "bad guy" with "positive comments" and "good guy" with negative comments. If you start out with a self-image of 100, it would take more than a few positive
ones to do away with the results of the negative ones. And boy do I have a truckload of negative ones. From school (kids can be so fucking mean), to my well-meaning mother (and she did mean well. I know that now. But then - every time I looked at something she didn't think I should be eating, I got 'the look'. That look probably has a lot to do with my self-image, too, but that's another post), to every boyfriend/man I've had in my life (with the exception of my current husband, and strangely enough, my ex husband).

At the ripe old age of 38, I know that it's up to me to fill that positive faction back up, and while comments from people I care about (positive ones) will help, and add to the faction - it's ultimately up to ME.

And I'm working on it.

Conflictions
(so I made up a word. big deal)


I find myself, as I get older, wanting to try more and more things. I also find myself, as I get older, not having time to do the things I enjoy, let alone new things. (I'm talking about ds/sm here).

I read a lot. Always have. I read online, I read magazines, I read books. I'm constantly finding new things in the world to enjoy. And getting ideas about experiences I might like to try. Once. To see if they're as good as I've decided 'in my head' that they are.

Thus, the phrase "I want to try...." is born.

In my world, as it is, there isn't much time for "I want to try...". Even if C were home now, he'd be working long hours and coming home exhausted. There isn't much energy for trying new things. Hell, most days, we're lucky if we get to bang out some "tried and true" things.

This is frustrating for me, and I'm trying very hard to learn a new kind of patience to handle it.

I'm going to start a list of this "I want to try..." 's. And after C. gets home, I'll give him the list, and try to find a way to explain that while I'm not trying to overwhelm him, I'm being as honest as I can with him about what's inside me.

Most of these "I want to try...." 's will probably turn out to be one-shot deals. We'll try them. We'll either hate them, or be ambivalent to them, and they'll fall by the wayside. But there may be one or two that turn into "wants" or even "needs".

More on Wants vs. Needs later.

Something's Different


Something's different with me today. I can't put a finger on it yet, but some part of my attitude has definetley altered. I wonder if I had a dream last night, or if all this reading about self-image has helped mine (lol). I've gotten a lot accomplished today - more than usual - and I'm feeling pretty tickled about that.

I spent some time reading some other blogs today. I don't do that often, but once in awhile I find one that intrigues me. It's fun to find out that other people who do blogs, and are in ds relationships, also talk about stuff other than the ds - ha ha.

(took a break to go clean the hall bathroom. See what I mean? I'm weirding myself out today)

I like these little bursts of energy though. I'm gonna have to find out how to have more of these :)

.Back to the Good Stuff


What is it about bondage that people like so much? I mean, you have the canned answers - "In bondage, I feel free" yadda yadda yadda. And to a certain extent, that's true. I've felt that before myself. But I think for some people, it goes much deeper. It does for me. And in thinking about it, I came up with several possible reasons. Not all of them fit me, but they may fit someone else.

== Bondage is attention. When someone has you tied up - or while they're tying you up - you are the center of their attention. For some folks' who feel they fade into the background of their lives, or play second, third or fourth fiddle many times, this is a possible motivator. It has been, in the past, for me.

== Bondage is desire. If someone is tying you up to keep you immobile so they can mess with you - physically or mentally - it's very easy to slip into the notion that they're doing it because they MUST have you, and cannot possibly take a chance of you escaping before they've had their way with you. I can admit to having felt this way at least once.

== Bondage is an escape from responsibility. In most relationships, the person being bound trust the person doing the binding enough to know if they really "needed" to get out, they'd just have to tell the binder (or use a safeword - don't get me started on THAT), and they'd be free. But inside their head, they can use the experience as "not having any choice in the matter". This person - the binder - the dominant - the top - has all of the control, and the bindee - the submissive - the bottom - is forced to 'endure' things and 'enjoy' things they might not be able to in any other way. "well, he's going to fuck me in the ass, and I can't do anything about it, so even if I enjoy it, it doesn't make me sick and twisted because I have no control over it."

And I'm sure there are others I haven't thought of - yet.

I can put myself in each of those items, and know I've felt that, at least at some point. They're most likely not all true for everyone all the time, but if you try, you can probably find bits and pieces of those feelings in your own bondage experiences

I got to talk to C again yesterday - YAY! The phone calls are expensive, but we both need them right now. I guess the middle of the cruise is always hard.

Still working on the apartment. More stuff on the walls and put away. It's starting to look much better.

Still working on the essay - I may post it here when it's done - I'm pretty proud of it. C asked yesterday how my writing was going, and I had to admit that lately I'm struggling with it. My ideas seem to be dried up. I do have a list of ds topics I want to write about here, so once my list gets shorter, I'll start doing that. Suffice it to say right now -- that I'm not real happy with some people's concepts of "the bdsm community", and how I should be acting in it. I don't remember signing a paper stating how I'd direct my life. I'll have to check my files

StrictlyDs seems to be quite busy these days, and I'm glad for that. I just posted a topic -

"What's the moment you said to yourself "I like being submissive/Dominant"
and that's how I want my relationships to be from now on? What spurred it?
A movie? A book? A conversation? What made you realize that this ds-thing
was for you?"

I'm going to answer it myself later, and I'll post my answer here, too.

I've been working like a madwoman on the house this week. Things are finally getting arranged, hung up, put away, thrown away, etc. The computer room now looks more like a room, and less like a storage facility. It's quite a feeling of accomplishment, which I need right now.

I'm working my way through my issues with weight. Slowly. I'm not dieting. I am, however, trying to eat smarter. Not perfectly (diet), but better (non-diet). And I've put the scale away.

I've also been playing too much EQ, and I'm going to try to cut that back. Not because I don't enjoy it, but because I feel guilty for doing it, when there are other things I should be doing.

All progress.

All weekend long, I've been watching episodes of "I Love the 70's" on VH-1. Hilarious. Frightening. Awesome.

Been working, too, on a ds essay. Been reading like a mad woman. (I'm way into Chick Lit these days. I guess, because, it's brainless. I read before I go to bed, and if I read something 'heavy', I think too much to go to sleep).

And how was YOUR week?

Acknowledge


The first step to fixing *anything* is to admit there's something to fix.

I acknowledge that I'm sick of getting winded if I have to make more than 2 trips up and down the stairs. I acknowledge that I got a closet full of clothes I want to wear and can't. I acknowledge that I'm more obsessed with my weight than anyone else (C. has said -- that he has far less problems with it than I do, and vetoed me having my stomach stapled.)

The first step is really figuring OUT the second step. In my case, the second step is to start accepting myself as I am.

So I'm working on that.

And I'm not going to add to the problem, nor am I going to obsessively go back on Atkin's at this point. When I bought groceries, I bought stuff that's low fat or sugar free versions of stuff I usually would buy.

Serious dieting would be like step five. ha ha.

All in all, I had a quiet weekend. Hung some stuff up in the apartment (we've been here 9 months, I guess it's about time) and played some EQ. Cleaned a little. Ran errands this morning. Crap like that.

I'm working on a D/s story in my head. Hopefully, I'll be able to get it written this week. I got an essay swimming around in there, too.

Speaking of which, some of my essays have been translated for a European website. WooT. The guy was very nice, and asked permission for each of the ones he wanted. Pretty cool.

Couple weeks ago, someone emailed me, and told me that a person who USED to be on Strictly D/s took the name (Strictly D/s) and my welcome letter (verbatim) and created a Live Journal community. I put a comment on her web page, and threatened to go to Live Journal with her theft, and it's down now. People who don't have an original thought of their own don't need to go stealing mine. That shit just pisses me off.

Introspective

Okay, so I've been quiet. More introspective than talkative, I guess. I'm thinking a lot about being overweight.

Now, if you're reading this, and you're perfectly happy with your body, good for you. Chances are, you aren't, even if you're what society these days calls "thin" (and I call nearly invisible). I'm not happy being fat. Never have been. But even when I diet, and lose weight, I seem to always find a way to sabotage it. After giving it some serious thought, I decided that before I get all hyped up about getting back on Atkins (went off when I went home for Poppo's funeral), I better find out what's going on in my head.

So I've been doing that. I guess I should be writing about it, because I believe most women (and some men) have issues with their bodies, too.

I'll do that this week.

But right now, I'm going to go play EQ, because I earned it by taking out my trash and paying bills this morning - lol.

Happy Sunday.

Yearn

As of today, C has been gone for 2 months, 7 days. The first two months he was gone didn't phase me much. I kept so busy with stuff around here that while I missed him like crazy, I wasn't really thinking much about the time.

Well now I am.
Damn it.

I've been feeling shitty since yesterday afternoon. Spent most of the time since then laying on the couch. Too much time to think. Gotta get back to "busy" tomorrow.

But, something constructive did come out of the thinking: I realized an important thing. I knew I was going to miss a lot of things when C. left - d/s being one of them. But I realized that it's not as I feared: I don't miss C. telling me what to do - frankly, he doesn't do that very much, anyway. He makes sure I know how he likes things, and I just "handle" it. It's not like I have a chore list or he gives me little jobs to do every day. I don't think I could handle being micro-managed, and I know he couldn't handle having to do it. No - I don't miss a "to do" thing - I miss a "pleasing him" thing. It's a big difference, at least from where I sit.

New Website to See

They're just starting out, but I think it's going to be a great site! Erotic Humilation

I got an email request to use one of my essays, The Art of the Blush, on it, and I gave it. I'm pretty excited to see it get into motion.

Thought you might enjoy.

Fuck you, Tammy Bruce.

I'm absolutely disgusted. Flipping through channels tonight, I watched the tail end of an E! True Hollywood Story about Jenna Jameson, porn actress. For some insane reason, E! felt it necessary to get an opinion from that over-inflated windbag, Tammy Bruce, who basically said that Jenna was a disgrace to women, and had no business bringing children into this world.

Again.

Fucky you, Tammy Bruce.

I'm sick to DEATH of the judgemental people in this country saying that women who work in the adult industry in this country are misguided, mis-informed and naive. While I don't work in the industry per se, I do write erotica, and consider myself to be part of the "adult entertainment" community. I'm not naive. I'm not fucking stupid. And I'm tired of people like Tammy Bruce riding on their high-horses and telling us all we're going to hell.

I did a little research tonight on Ms. Bruce. It seems that in addition to what I already knew about her (she's a flake - can't decide if she's a liberal or a conservative, though she claims conservative), she's got an axe to grind against NOW (and freely admits that it's against Patricia Ireland, who scolded her publically for making a stupid comment during the OJ Simpson debacle), and while I'm no fan of NOW myself (see http://www.thescreamergirl.com/nowsm.htm), and left the organization myself over my D/s tendencies amongst other things, I certainly didn't feel a need to switch political sides over it, (although I no longer call myself a liberal or a conservative), and I certainly don't feel a need to spout off every five minutes about something that's old news.

See, in part, Ms. Bruce and I have similar views. Pro-Choice, pro-gun, pro-death penalty. But it stops there. She and I define the word feminist differently. Evidently, to Ms. Bruce, feminist means "Don't make me look bad.". To me, feminist means "Do what makes you fucking happy, and damn what everyone says women should do." She contradicts herself in a thousand tiny ways in her definition, and it makes me wonder who's feeding her her thoughts these days. For gawd's sakes - the woman supported Dr. Laura and Ronald Regan! Two people that would rather see her lesbian-self incarcerated than living her life to whatever she considers "the fullest".

Ugh.

Okay. Enough politics. Sorry. Had to get that out.

Reality always invades

You might wonder how we got from talking about kink - to talking about the death of my grandfather. It's pretty simple.

It's reality.

My webpage, The Screamer Girl, discusses the realities of BDSM relationships. Common sense approaches to things that get so fucking romanticized. And my real life is what inspired all that. I'm not someone who can "shut off" the whole world so I can "bask in my relationship". Real life is PART of that relationship. Over the years, I've written a series of articles (on the website) about common sense and reality and BDSM. I don't figure my blogger should be any different.

In addition to that, my real life has been pretty hectic this spring. I've put 9000+ miles on my car since April - with 3 trips back home for family stuff. I'm not currently working, so I'm concentrating on other things - my candles/soap business, my writing, my home, my cats - and since my husband is gone right now - at the bottom of the ocean in his cigar tube - D/s tends to take a back seat to these other things.

I have a series of things I want to write about D/s, and will here, as soon as I get caught up from this last trip. I just wanted you all to know the reasons for the change.

Poppo's Sunflowers

Well, you might be wondering where I've been, but you probably figured it out. My Poppo died. I just got back to VA early this morning.

I'll be back to writing about happier things one I catch up on my sleep.

Poppo liked sunflowers. I recently made a candle of a sunflower scent, and named it "Poppo's Sunflowers". It was just a sample, but considering now... I'll be buying a bigger bottle.

It's official. Poppo has cancer. It's into his lymph nodes now, so once we get a little more information from the doctors (hopefully today) I'll be headed home - again. There's no treatment for him at his age - they're just going to try to make him comfortable.

I'd like to wax poetic about this, but I can't right now, so I'll suffice it to say I may be away from my blog again for awhile.

Nice Memories.

I got an email from C. this morning. First one I've gotten since last time they went out of port. So he's obviously been on my mind all day. Once in awhile, a distant memory will come into my head, of something we've done in the past, and makes me smile. Today, I was remembering when we went to one of the casinos in Vegas - I want to say the Rio - and walked through the huge candy store they had. We laughed the whole time we were in there, and ended up spending well over 60.00 on stuff we hadn't seen in years, and odd flavors of Jelly Bellys. I just remember feeling at that time that life couldn't have been any sweeter (pardon the pun).

To the polar opposite of that, my mom called yesterday and said that my grandpa couldn't walk more than a few steps without wanting to pass out, so they were headed down to take him to the hospital. My sister, who lives 10 miles from my grandparents, couldn't be bothered. My parents drove 2 hours to get there to do this. My sister -- if I haven't mentioned this before -- is a selfish, no-self-esteem waste of air on this planet, and I hope to one day be able to wag my fucking finger at her and say "I told you so, you worthless bitch." It's a real long story, and I won't bore you with it, suffice it to say that she uses her children against my family. And frankly, I've given up on her.

Anyway, Poppo is in the hospital now, and it turns out his blood was way too thin from the meds. He's going to have to have a transfusion. Amongst other things.

I'm lucky, I guess, that I've had grandparents well into my thirties, and nearing 40. I had 5 grandparents and 4 great-grandparents for my entire childhood, then started losing them one at a time. I have 2 grandparents left - my mother's folks. I'm lucky that way. C has none.

Okay - enough of that.

Back to finishing the candles I'm pouring, and then either writing or EQ.

Been a busy week here. In addition to making a few kinds of soap (three, actually - Oatmeal, Milk and Honey, Gardener's Friend and a new puppy soap recipe), I've been cleaning up/out my stories/poems folders on the computer, and have started re-editing some of them, and sending them in for anthologies and such. There isn't a lot of money in erotica, for sure. But it's something I'm good at and something I enjoy, so I continue to plug away at it, though I think I'm going to be working on some vanilla stuff as well. I have a couple of outlines done for some short stories and hopefully, I'll get a good energy going this week so I can work on them.

Good topic on the StrictlyDs list recently - about romanticizing BDSM. Here's what I had to say:

====included text========
Everyone has issues. Problem is, many of those issues do not come out in
the first five dates or online or on the phone. You think you're getting
"Mr/Ms Perfect". but what you're really getting is a *real* *live* person
with their own baggage and their own issues and their own problems.

I've seen it said time and again that getting to know each other online is
either like "Speed Dating" or "Better than RT, because you fall in love with
who a person IS, not what they look like." I call bullshit on that. Online,
you're getting to know what a person WANTS you to know about them (or, what
they want you to BELIEVE about them).

Even meeting folks at scene parties, when they're always "on" can be
deceiving for people. Sure, that dude always wears leather and is always in
Dominant Mode at a scene party or munch - but if you haven't seen him, pants
around his ankles, doing his "business" or you haven't seen him hunched over
the toilet puking his guts out, chances are, you haven't seen the real him.
Have you watched his face while he pays bills? Have you seen how he eats
his eggs? Have you seen his kitchen cupboards? No? Then you don't know
him as well as you think you do - and his issues *will* come out, sooner or
later.

No shame in having issues. We all do. The problem with the romanticism of
ds, as I see it, is the ignorance of those issues, and how to deal with
them - or, if you even *want* to deal with them.

=======end included text===========

I feel an essay coming on about this. Big time. Auntie Screamer needs to get back to work.

Pouring test candles this week - yum. Some of the scents are really good - others, I could live without.

Have been working on a book in my head. I have several ideas, but the one that seems to keep hitting me over and over is a fantasy genre story. I did outlines and flow charts yesterday - we'll see if I can keep it going in my head.

Once I get it on paper, I'll come back to a couple ds topics that I want to write here about.

Got a call from C on Sunday and probably won't hear from him for a couple weeks. That's okay, though. I can send email (he can't respond), and I can still feel him in the house.

Hi there. Been catching up at home since I got back from vacation, but thought I'd sit down and write a little before I get busy again.
I've goten a couple phone calls from C. since he left. That sure helps. The email on the boat is touch and go, but at least I can hear his voice. It hasn't been bad yet- missing him. I do, don't get me wrong. But I haven't gotten that huge frustrated feeling that I hear so much about. Course, it's only been a month.
That blasted "Gift" topic came up on my email list again. Let me say this here, because I've said it everywhere else SUBMISSION IS NOT A GIFT. ARGH. That just irritates the hell out of me. How can you call something a gift, when you're getting just as much from it as you're giving? If you weren't, you wouldn't be fucking doing it now, would you? I just want to smack the hell out of people who say that it's a gift. For some reason, that's my pet peeve. Well, one of them. There are others

I've got to get back to writing again. I miss it. And I need to do it.

Started Atkins again on Saturday. Time to get this "moving stress" weight back off. Riding my new exercise bike, too. Man, they've improved those things since the last one I had. I'm impressed :)

Okay - back to soaping. You all behave :)

Okay, I'm back from Iowa. I slept most of the day yesterday (drive was 19 hours) but will be catching up around home today, and hopefully back to writing tomorrow! It's hot as hell here. When I got home, my AC had gone out and it was 90 degrees in my apartment. UGH. All better now.

I know I haven't written. I'm sorry for that. Since we got back from Cheyenne things have been hectic, to say the least. C's now gone on his six month deployment, and I'm, headed for Iowa for a short vacation - and maybe to Cheyenne to see his dad again (he's still in the hospital). Once I get back, I promise, I'll start writing again.

Hiya.

I know I warned you about me being gone - and I sure was. We spent 2 weeks in Cheyenne, got home on Sunday. Lots to write about, but I'm trying to get laundry caught up so it'll have to wait. But I'm baaaaaaack!

I've been absent this week, and I'll be absent probably for next week. C's father is in the hospital and as soon as he gets home tomorrow, we'll be heading there to be with him.

I took yesterday basically off after I got back from the base. I went shopping. I had lunch with LA. I cleaned house a little and pretty much cut loose. I needed that. I love that.

Today, I’ve wrapped soap, packed up incense, made a batch of liquid soap and written a story(woot!). Obviously, I’m feeling better.

My flowers are still beautiful. The windows are open because it’s glorious outside. Laundry is done and life is good.

The story I wrote explores something that I have a pretty intense interest in – age play. My interest in this changes, but it’s always there. Sometimes, I want a “daddy” and other times, it doesn’t need to be remotely that formal. The story I wrote today explores “daddy” to some extent. It was something I started writing in my head as I was falling asleep last night, and it was still there this morning, so I felt like I needed to “get there.”

I have a lot more thought to put into that particular “thing”.

I was sleeping when the phone rang. Since I re-arranged the bedroom, the phone is clear across the room, and I didn’t feel like answering it. I got up shortly thereafter, went into the computer room to check the caller ID and it was C. (I should say here, that when I got home from dropping him off this morning, I left him a voice mail and explained why I was upset). He left me a voice mail, which said – he was sorry, that he loved me…

… and that the boat was leaving tomorrow for a week.

I don’t care upset you are with someone, when you face the idea of spending a week away from them, especially when there are unresolved issues – you crash.

I called him back, and luckily he was outside smoking cigarettes. He said he wanted to see me before he leaves. So I’m going to go to base in the morning and take his shaving kit and such (he didn’t take them – didn’t know they were leaving I guess).

When I called him this morning, I was crying. He doesn’t see or hear me cry much anymore. I tell people that I cried myself dry in my last relationship and there just aren’t any tears left in there, but that’s not true. They’re there. They just don’t appear very often. I don’t think I hold them in intentionally. I’m not sure why I don’t cry much.

Truthfully, I feel like a spoiled brat right now. I know I shouldn’t, because my needs and wants are as important as C’s needs and wants, but I think we’ve both been acting bratty. The stress is bad, and the tensions are high and neither one of us has what we want entirely. I’m not even sure either one of us has what we need. But again – we’re adults and we chose this life and in trying to make the best of it, we have a fuckload of lessons to learn about getting what we need without ripping each other apart.

Nothing like the prospect of a week alone to make you straighten your priorities out, eh?

-=-=-=-= If you're a woman, and you're reading this, go buy yourself flowers today. =-=-=-=-=-=-=

I did this, today, and it really lit up the living room, and my mood. Don't wait and hope for someone to do it for you - do it for yourself.

So far, my Easter Sunday has been a day of reflection. That’s not a typical Easter for me. Typical would be to spend it at my folks’ house, with my niece finding the eggs I’d hidden for her, stuffing myself with Peeps that have been aired out to the perfect rock-hard consistency, and then having a big ham dinner with my grandmother’s perfection ham gravy.

Obviously, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m home. Alone. C. has duty. And that’s probably for the best, because I’ve been using this day to … reflect.

I’ve been angry for almost 24 hours. Not typical for me. Normally, I fire up, then cool down relatively quickly. I’m not a sulker or a grudge-carrier. But when I woke up this morning, I was still angry. Why? Because C. snapped at me over something stupid, and I didn’t like his reason for doing it. I still don’t. But that’s not really the point.

The point is – I’m angry. Well, less now than I was this morning, but still I feel it at my heart. Anger is born of a fear. I know that just him snapping at me is not nearly enough to set me off into this 24 hour fit of venom. So today, I’ve been reflecting on what that fear might be. I’ve come up with a few possibilities.

The first is probably off the wall, but I felt it nonetheless, and have decided to share it, thinking that maybe another submissive/partner had felt it too. I give in too much. C is used to (I figure) getting his own way and having things done the way he wants them – all the time. I rarely (if ever) say no to him about anything. There is a fine line between submissive and doormat and I’m afraid of crossing that line at some point. I asked a friend recently if she ever said no to her husband when he asked for sex, and she said that she did sometimes. I never do. I’ve never uttered those words to C – or, hell – to anyone except my ex-husband. So then, in my head, I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t say no once in awhile. Maybe there’s no challenge here for C. And then I think – fuck that – that’s game playing and I refuse to do that. But there is validity there, somewhere.

The second is a little more plausible. C rarely has to ask me for anything. I usually have everything done. If he’s out of cigarettes, I buy them. If he’s out of beer, I buy it. Uniforms at the cleaners? I pick them up. Uniforms to be washed? I wash them. Upcoming holiday? I buy his family’s cards. Consider this: Last night, I was angry with him. I shut down Everquest just so I could get out of the room he was in. And yet – there I was – knowing he had duty today and knowing his cammies needed washed – and I washed them. Out of a sense of responsibility? Maybe. Because I’m trying to be perfect? More likely. In trying to ease his stress, I’ve created myself stress. Not of getting the stuff done, because frankly, it’s not that hard. But because he doesn’t have to ask me for anything, when I have to ask HIM for something, I feel needy. There is no even exchange of “you do this for me, and I’ll do that for you.”. I hate feeling needy. It makes me insane. And even then – when I ask for something that I want or need, I have expectations that it will be done – or at least an attempt will be made. When it isn’t, I am disappointed and – well, yes – angry. Yesterday was C’s only day off this week. He has not had one since last Sunday, and will not have another until next Saturday. His cold is still hanging on. I expressed a desire to go have lunch at Hardee’s on Saturday because I was hankerin’ for a Ham N Cheese. I also expressed a desire to go shopping for an exercise bike. He expressed a desire for extra sleep and Everquest. Both of which he got. I got neither of my requests. It was his only day off. I know. He’s still sick. I know. He needed to rest and relax. I know. I know. I know. Knowing doesn’t help erase my frustration – and my fear.

I feel selfish and I’m angry about that, too.

I feel better, having reflected on it, and getting at least a partial handle on why I’m upset. I feel better having written it, too. It’s only 3pm. There may be more after a nap (I didn’t sleep well at all. I’m not even sure I slept), and some further thought.

My cats drive me crazy. They must be fed at 9:30am every morning, even if there is food left in their bowl. Star will come in and howl and claw at my chair until I get up and go shake the food bag over their bowl. Bossy, bossy, bossy.

Got one batch of soap to do today, in Pipe Tobacco scent, for my dad’s best friend. He loves the stuff, and has been through the whole last batch I made. I like it, too, but for a man, not a woman. It’s a very masculine scent.

I’ve started trying to meditate daily. I know I should do it, and I am going to try to do it, but sometimes I get wrapped up in other stuff and don’t get to it. The other night, while meditating, I had visions of myself in a “school girl” scenario. That’s something I’ve never done before. Not sure how C would feel about that. Might have to ask. I also flowed into an idea for a story during the same session, but it had nothing to do with the school girl – ha ha. I really need to get writing. I feel it, the urge. But I just can’t seem to make myself do it.

Last night, I wanted to really relax. I needed to. Flipping through our digital music channels, I found a “Soundscape” channel that plays mostly New Age music and that did the trick. I meditated for awhile, read my runes, and drifted around for awhile. It was pleasant and peaceful and wonderful.

Meditating always brings things to a clearer view for me. I so recommend that for people. It’s hard, at first, to be able to let go and find your relaxed state, but once you’ve done it once, it gets easier and easier. It gives me perspective.

C and I have our whole lives together. Living in the day to day world, those minutes, hours and days we spend apart seem so important, but when you put it into perspective, they’re almost meaningless. Yes, the time we get to spend together is important, but missing a day here or there is not going to alter the way we feel about each other or the dynamic we have. I think above all, maybe it’s teaching us some patience lessons we both need to learn.

Dr. Atkins died. Evidently, he was in an accident and a coma. I’ve done the Atkin’s Diet several times through my life. It works well for me, but is so restricting that even after doing it for a year or more, I always crave potatoes and bread. I can live without the refined sugar, but I miss starches. When C goes on his six-monther, I think I’m going back on it for awhile. At least to get the first part of the weight off. It works well, and fast for me. I hate that I have a closet full of clothes that I can’t wear. I’ve been watching myself a lot lately, and not eating much crap, but I know that that’s not enough. I need to do more.

I had to take C to base this morning before 6am. I got up way too early. But it’s the price I pay if I want a car for the next 2 days while he’s on the boat. He’s got a cold, too, and feels like shit. If it ain’t one thing around here, it’ll just be something else.

I know I seem to complain a lot. But let me make something clear. All it is is venting. I love my husband. I knew when I married him what he was – who he was – and that the Navy was priority one, at least for the next several years. I knew we’d have separations and I knew he’d be working shit hours for shit money. I don’t have to like what happens, but I do have to take responsibility for placing myself in this situation – and if I had to do it over again, I’d do the same thing. C and I are – (and he dislikes this word I think) – soul-mates – destiny – what have you. We were together three times before we finally got it right (third times a charm, eh?) and I know that I’m supposed to be with him. Maybe the universe is testing our resolve. I dunno. But I do know that he’s the one I wanna be with.

I don’t have everything I want. I don’t think anyone does. I accept that some of my needs fall on the back burner sometimes. So do his. We’re not martyrs, as he reminds me, but we are adults and we did accept this lifestyle we’re living. We have to try to find ways to creatively make sure our needs get met. It’s an experiment in time management – heh.

I feel better today. I think maybe it’s because I crashed hard last night and nearly slept through C waking me up to tell me goodbye. I remember having very vivid dreams but don’t remember much of what they were about. And I remember feeling very rested when I woke up. I did a short Reiki session on myself last night and ended up falling asleep on the couch during Buffy. I needed that, I guess.

I have so much on my mind lately. Much of it is sex-related, but then again, a whole lot of it isn’t. I do it to myself. No one forces it on me. But finding a way to get out from under it isn’t easy.

The bedroom looks nice. I told C last night I wanted a headboard and footboard for the bed, when we can afford it, since the one we have now is broken. I would like to have a sleigh bed, or a mission-style bed, I think.

I’m working on candle testing today with some 8oz tins I have, and making up a new body butter recipe. I’ll see how it turns out.

More later. I want to talk a little more about bondage and some other “responsibility relieving” stuff.

I rearranged the bedroom to work off some energy. I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time, so that worked out well – except – the movers busted our headboard last time we moved, and now, it really needs to be replaced. At least the furniture is all moved. All I gotta do is go in and clean up after C. He has crap everywhere. I’m a slob who married a slob. This is not good.

All the books tell you that your bedroom should be comfortable and a sanctuary from normal every day life. But because it’s messy, I have a hard time relaxing in there. I’m going to have to work on that.

For people who don’t know me well, I’m a control freak. One of the things that attracted me to dominance and submission is the pretext that it would give me the ability to let some of that control go, but because of how things are right now with C and the boat, there’s very very little remotely d/s-y stuff going on around here and I’m feeling that control freak come front and fucking center. It’s not really anyone’s fault I guess. It’s just the way things are right now.

I gotta tell you, I’m really damn tired of saying that.

Since this is leading there anyway, I’ll just touch on what I wanted to write about bondage awhile back. For me, bondage is the ultimate release from responsibility. I feel so ultimately responsible for so many things that really are not my responsibility anyway, that for the short/long time I’m in bondage, that all goes away – the real responsibility and the imagined responsibility. I don’t have a choice; I have to cut it loose. Slap a set of cuffs on me once in awhile and tell me not to move – hey – I’m good. The headspace that goes along with bondage for me is so fucking relaxing and freeing. It just lets me BE. Not BE working, not BE thinking, not BE cleaning – just BE. Add a little overt dominance to that and I’m floating somewhere up in my “inner real self” and loving life. Thing is, it just doesn’t happen right now. There are too many things that take precedence over it. It’s so far down the list that I think it might have fallen completely off the list.

Jokingly last night (I think), C called me a cranky bitch. Yea, I am cranky sometimes. It’s because I’m stressed. And I’m stressed because there are too many things – real and imagined – that I’m responsible for that are not going the way I want them to. The whole thing is one vicious fucking circle and I feel like we’re on the merry-go-round from hell. Between the boat, my grandfather having surgery last week, my sister the total bitch from hell, not working, not being able to write two sentences fiction and string them together, paying my taxes and not being able to control things in general, I just can’t seem to find two minutes of consistent peace anymore. Everything is pressure. I feel some days like I’m going to implode. LA reminded me to go to Tri-Care and get my Xanax prescription refilled. I really need to do that. I hate hate hate medicating myself out of these moods, but sometimes, I feel like it’s my last and best option. I have one Xanax left. I’m going to try to get in there this week, after I apply for unemployment and get my social security card changed. I’ve got to start getting this piddly shit done. Maybe it’ll help.

I’m going to go watch brain dead TV. Maybe that’ll help, too.

I just got done doing my taxes. I feel like I’m having a panic attack. It was much more than I expected and while I have the money in the bank to pay them, it’s about all I have, so I now have to either go back to work, or apply for unemployment. Ick. I guess I’ll look for a job and apply for unemployment while I’m looking. We’re not broke, but we’re not rolling in it, either. I just updated my resume. The idea of going back to programming does not excite me at all. I burnt myself out on it – again – and would love to find a new line of work, but besides writing, there isn’t anything else I enjoy doing that would pay enough.

…pause

un-pause…

Went to the store to get cat food, soda and cigarettes. Essentials in this house. Diet Pepsi is life, and life is Diet Pepsi. Coffee, too. And pretzels. Low fat/no fat food. Must lose weight. Must feel better about self-image. Must not add being fat to the list of depressive subjects recently.

Must cheer up.

Didn’t get to write at all over the weekend. Was busy with other stuff, but have a lot to talk about over the next few days, so I’ll be giving y’all plenty to read.
That is, after I do my taxes. Ugh.

By the way, anytime you want to leave me comments about something you read here, click the “comment” link at the bottom of the post, or drop me an email.

More after I’ve emptied my bank account to the IRS.

Yesterday was a bit of a better day. I started coming out of the funk somewhat, though I still feel it hinging there, on the edge. It’s not like the frustration is gone or anything, but I’ve pushed it back a ways so that I can concentrate on a few other things. This morning, I feel the same.

I’m making some lotion this morning. I have a few more batches of soap to make, too, but I want to get the lotion done, as the list is much longer. I can’t wrap any of the soap I have sitting out, so I need something to occupy some time. I also have a new body butter recipe to formulate – will probably wait til next week to do that.

My dad called last night. They took my grandfather to the hospital – he had some very bad blockage in his arteries, and they put some stints in. Dad says he’s doing pretty well and is as cranky as ever. It reminds me how lucky I am at 38 years old to still have two of my grandparents. Course, it also reminds me that my sister is the bitch-beast from hell, but hey.

I finally got the other paddle I won off of Fetish Auctioneer (http://www.fetishauctioneer2.com/) awhile back. Its lexan, and I’ve hidden it. It’s a nasty little thing (not so little) and I’m not ready to give it to C. yet. Maybe when things calm down, and we can spend some time relaxing. Right now, if I give it to him, it’s going to just add more pressure on top of what’s already there.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading about spanking/domestic discipline (although most of this is female spanking male so it’s not applicable)/paddling, etc. It’s so weird, because you’d think that this is something I’d have been “in to” for a long time, because it fits in with the whole age-play fantasy thing I have, but because of reasons I’ve already stated (and probably a few I haven’t found yet), I blocked it completely out of what I wanted. I may not be doing this as much for C as I thought I was – it may be just “time” for me to get past whatever fucked-up thing blocked this out for me, and let it in.

I want to talk about bondage but I’ve got to go check the lotion. More later probably.

Lots of time to think the last 24 hours – cleaning takes no brainpower, neither does watching “Friends” or “Married with Children”. Lots of time to think.

Here’s my conclusion: C’s here, but he’s not here. His mind – from what I can tell – and it may just be subconsciously – is still on the boat. He’s quall-ing for his dolphins. He’s in school this week. He’s learning so much new stuff that even when he’s here, he ain’t.

The problem, then, lies in my expectations. When he’s home, I expect he’ll BE home. Obviously, that’s not working out so well.

Expectations are hard to adjust. I’m working on that, but it’s a difficult thing to do.

Honestly, to my best, I try to be as supportive as I can. When something needs to be done, I just *do it. When we’re low on cigarettes, when his beer is gone, when the laundry needs done, I just do it. I don’t carry on about it (I don’t think) and I don’t demand thanks for it (I don’t think) – I just figure that doing that stuff is doing my part in supporting how hard he’s working. And I do okay with that most times. It feels good to be there for him and to handle the minutia. I guess maybe – and this is me thinking on paper – that my mind hits a “full” point with that, and demands some direct attention from him before I can “empty” and start doing it all over again.

Writing that, it sounds feeble and childish, and I’m pissed off about that, but I’m not going to erase it.

Expressing my needs is not something I do easily. I don’t know if it was the way I was raised, or a fear of being judged “too needy” that keeps me from being able to do this easily, but I was almost petrified to do this until I moved in with C the first time. He broke through some of that. My relationship after “the first time with C” was with another man who – sadly – did reject my needs often for his own. The harder he pushed his, the more whiny I got about mine until finally it destroyed my feelings for him (and his for me I assume) all together. So, back with C again, I try to remember that it’s safe for me to do that with him. Problem is, right now, it’s *not really safe *right now*. There isn’t a hell of a lot of room in his life for my needs – he’s focused on his own with the Navy – as it should be. But fact is, that suppression causes problems. They may not come out often, and they may not come out the way I’d like them to, but they sure as hell *do come out. There’s gotta be a better way to handle this than the way I am handling it. I’ve just got to put some thought into what that is.

Well, despite what I said earlier, I’ve decided to go into some of what I’m thinking about and why I haven’t been writing. Maybe it’ll make more sense if I actually put it into complete sentences and paragraphs.

Here are the main feelings. I’ll dissect them in a bit:
Neglected
Over-worked and under-paid
Lonely
Introspective
Self-centered

That’s a start.

C’s been working 12 hours days most days of the week. Which means, since we got the plates for the car and he’s driving himself again, I see him for maybe 30 minutes before he goes to bed. During that time, he’s de-stressing and trying to unwind and it’s not “talk” time. He’s still doing the 36-hour stints every four days as well. This weekend, he went in Friday morning and I picked him up Saturday morning (in a foul mood). We came home, messed around on computers for awhile, and then he took a 4 hour nap. He got up, and we went to dinner with friends (he was still in an odd mood – I won’t say foul, but definitely odd), had a nice time, came home, and shortly thereafter, he went to bed. Sunday morning, we went to have breakfast with out-of-town friends, came home, played Everquest until dinner – had dinner – watched TV for awhile, and he went to bed.

So, yes, we spent time together – in the same room/car/restaurant. I shouldn’t have anything to complain about. But inside, I’m screaming. I feel selfish and needy and I hate that fucking feeling almost more than anything else. When I’m in that mood, anything will set me off.

One other thing that happened this weekend is I did something I never thought I’d be able to do. I asked C to spank me. I never thought I’d get past that, and do it. Thing is, as you can see from the itinerary above, he didn’t. So now, this will probably go on the pile of everything else “I never thought I’d be able to do”, and I probably won’t do it again, because it yielded less than positive results this time. There are a couple other things I’ve done – that he asked for – that he doesn’t know about yet – that I probably won’t be able to tell him about/do for quite awhile because of the headspace I find myself in now. That just makes it worse.

This morning I get up and the trash is still here. He has the car; so I can’t take it to the dumpster. It’s been sitting on the front porch for a couple of days and for some reason, I got incredibly pissed off about that. His boot-polishing stuff was on the living room floor. I put it away. He has duty tomorrow, and his cammies are in the laundry basket. I washed them. The living room looked like shit. I cleaned it. The kitchen floor looks like shit. I cleaned it. The rest of the laundry needs done. I’m doing it. I’m doing all the little stuff he doesn’t have time to do, just like I should be, but for some reason today, I’m feeling really pissed off about doing it. I’m not working right now. I still have money in the bank from the last job I did, and we’re paying bills with it, so it’s not like I’m not contributing.

I should be writing. I promised myself that when I took this time off from work that I’d write. Am I writing? No, unless you count the blogger. I do not have any headspace to write.

It’s not so much that I’m mad at C about any of this. I don’t expect him to be superman. And it’s not so much that I’m mad at the Navy about it, because – well – this is his job. And it’s not so much that I’m mad at myself about this, although I’m a little pissed off that I’m feeling the way I do – because frankly, I have every right to feel neglected – because I am. But it’s not malicious. It’s just the way it is right now.

So I guess what it boils down to is that I’m frustrated beyond fuck and I can’t get past it. I’d like to blame it on PMS but not everything can be blamed on that. I’m sure there are other things contributing to this mood. I’m typically not a whining-type of person. But lately, I just feel too much stacked between where I am, and where I want to be. And it’s hard. I’m just not as patient as I wish I were.

All right. Enough of that.

I know, I know. I’ve not been writing. There are several reasons for that, most of which wouldn’t matter to anyone reading this, so I won’t detail them. Suffice it to say that my brain has been working overtime and hasn’t left any headspace for writing.

I’ve got several topics I want to work on, so I’ll come back to writing this week – maybe even today since I’ll be doing laundry and cleaning house. Just know that – I’m BACK!