Yo-yo and a wander.

I re-read my (entire) blog tonight. The last post was so disturbing and then had to laugh while reading the next one. Really, am I truly that neurotic lately?

I thought to myself that the last post sounds so absurd, it must have been imgained. But no. I remember the pain and what was causing it. I can remember its sharp, acrid taste and its vicious bite. It was a combination of the PMDD and camp drop. I have never felt that truly empty ever before in my life. One could surmise that continuing to go to camp would be a bad thing, but I disagree. There were things happening, both around me and in me that truly collided for a potently distasteful and frightening cocktail. However, things have... stabilized in the last month, and for that I am truly thankful. Its almost as if a switch was flipped. Bizarre.

The other posts (most of the ones pre-Amy and one or two during Amy) made me shake my head at my own goofiness. Is that normal, to read some of your things and think its pretty funny? Or is it just rampant vanity?

Then I read my very first blog and had to chuckle at my naivte'. An old maid at 22?? Seriously, can I go back and slap my young self upside the head for thinking that?? I'm staring down the barrel of 30. Gawd, Mom was right- shut up and enjoy your youth. And I talk about the various guys I dated. Some who's name are remembered and others so unremarkable, the only thing that marks their presence was that mention in a post. My wedding blog is still up. What a funny yet sad reminder.

I noticed a pattern, partly from reading old blog posts, and partly from reading some old letters found in my closet. My last 3 significant relationships were very much that- significant. I loved them dearly and apparently either took it for granted or believed myself unworthy of the affection, understanding, and love they were offering. Then ended up unwittingly trashing them all while desperately trying to hold on at the same time. Granted, one of the relationships was ultimately unhealthy. However, pre-violence, the love was still as true. I realize now that I am a self-sabotaging, self-fulfilling prophecy (maybe thats redundant). And its scary. I recently met a very sweet guy that looks to be promising. If it grows into what I hope it will... I just can't put my thoughts into words other than to say I don't want the tearing-down to happen again.

One illustration of this new guy's promise, with some prior explaining. Those that know me, know I'm open to and partly live an alternative lifestyle. Among the personals sites I am on, is an adult personals site, which is where I met him. Admittedly, this is not the place to looking for a stable, regular relationship. I'm realistic about this so I'm there looking mostly to satisfy needs that inevitably need satisfying. Anyway. After a few messages on the site, this cutey and I had the occasion to chat via instant messenger and instantly there was a spark. Similiar senses of humor tend to have that effect. We set up a tentative date for that weekend and chatted a few times again. Each time we chatted, I was left with a craving for more of him. But due to the nature of the site, I pushed the cravings and thoughts aside, not wanting to get my hopes up. However there were hints from him as well- I wasn't sure if I was imagining it. We met, and at the end of that date, there were several spine-tingling kisses and that "I don't want to leave" feeling on both sides. I drove home, mostly in a daze. Through IM and texting (we both agreed we didn't like talking on the phone- thank gawd), we each hesitantly toed the idea of a relationship towards the other, both worried we'd scare the other off if we just kicked it into the light. After maddening amounts of tap-dancing, we both admitted we were interested in pursuing something more than FWB. I had previously talked about my kink-related interests and he is predominately vanilla.

(Get to the point, you're saying. I know, I'm sorry. I'm feeling long-winded tonight and this is the cut down version)

Cut to the second date, post-coital conversation. I had previously mentioned the open relationship I had been in, and he initially seemed averse to the idea. However, we were talking about it, him asking questions and me being as brutally honest as I could. Everything is academic at this point because we hadn't actually said "hey we're dating" (this is an important point). He talked about if we were still together in a year when the next camp rolls around, what happens when I go? Do I play or remain chaste? He talked about his thoughts and hesitations (all perfectly normal and understandable, truly). Thats when I started talking about the pros and cons of an open relationship and how that could quiet a lot of his fears. I've seen it work and the good it can do. And he actually said he'd think about it. I was beyond floored, partly because I felt he was telling the truth and mostly because I hadn't thought it likely.

Then, I looked at him and quietly asked "Why don't you come to camp with me?". I explained he could see it for himself, see this thing that plays an important part of my summer and an integral part of my life. I thought he would refuse straight out, but this too, he said he would consider after looking at his schedule. (Meanwhile, I'm thinking "holy crap, REALLY??). We hadn't really "officially" started dating and he's considering something that is quite radical for a vanilla, self-admitted traditional guy. I realize now that perhaps an outside observer is probably thinking "Girl, he is playing you to get in your pants". I guess that is always possible, but I just get this feeling that that isn't the case; he seems truly genuine. If he really is playing me, he deserves an Emmy.

That self-sabotaging part of me is saying "can this be true?". Can this (seemingly) decent and good-looking guy truly be interested in me? "It can't be true, there has to be a reason, an ulterior motive." Perhaps I try and get myself to believe this in an effort to not get hurt. But don't I get hurt because I tear it down? Ah ha, the self-fulfilling prophecy in its shiny glory.

I'd end on a funny or flip little statement. But I'm left with such a brainful. Granted, its a very good brainful, not so much neural sludge as in the past. I'm content for the time being. And thats good for right now.

Falling... (brain dump)

I wish I could blame it on the camp drop. I wish I didn't feel the pain I feel, knowing that I'm not there person I thought I was. That the person I thought I was, was only because of someone else. My beloved event has become a magnifying glass for everything that I hate about myself and what is wrong with me. And it makes me frantic to fix things and even more frantic when I realize I don't know how.

Its so bi-polar, these ups and downs. I was blissed out before, thinking I was dealing, but apparently not so. I just want to be loved and sought out and thought well of, but can't make that happen. I don't want to be "tolerated" and have people nice to my face and grumble when I turn away.

I thought perhaps sending my fears and troubles out into the world would help, and to some extent, it has. But what now. I feel like an empty vessel and don't know how to fill it. I know what kind of person I want to be, but don't know how to get from here to there.

I'm back in that dark hole and am terrified. The lonliness is overwhelming and suffocating and I just simply want it to end. However that may happen. I'm is so much pain, its excrutiating. I don't want pity, I want answers dammit. Are they there and I'm ignoring them? Am I too selfish to see them? Why can't I be whole being by myself?

The kind of people I like and admire, don't like me. Why. I feel shunned, though they say they aren't.

This weakness is killing me. I shouldn't care about the ones that don't like me and take comfort in those that do. But I can't. Does that make me even more selfish and shallow?

The pain is a live, hot wire, threatening to tear me apart. And I'd welcome it. Perhaps it would chase away the thoughts of grabbing the knife.

Sharp and pointy...

Who knew a sharp, knife-like sensation across the throat would be so incredibly exciting? It sends me through the roof.

I've been freaked out by knives in the past, but have developed a taste for them lately. That isn't normal. But I'm ok with that. It may not be normal but it is incredibly hot.

Plays well with others (or at least working on it).

Those that know me know that I am on staff with at kink event called Spank Festival, held in west central WI. Along with Boo, I've been on staff since the new folks took it over in June of '07. We attended that first session as volunteers and were asked to join the staff in the following months.

Now, honestly, Boo and I don't play much, kinky or otherwise, at home. This is due to an inordinately low sex drive on my part, which really sucks for her. However, we are in love with the event, the staff that run it, and the energy of the campers that attend. The issue of boundaries in our relationship had inevitably come up in response to things we've seen here. They've pretty much always been closed. However, something changed this year.

In preparation for the event, attendees can post their profile on the "Attendees Only" site and chat with other fellow campers. Perving profiles are a favorite pastime of the prospective Spanker. I'd seen his profile, but didn't pay much more attention to it than any of the others. If I'd only known...

I first saw him as he pulled in to register. We were in a staff meeting, but as one of the "registration whores", it was part of my duties to take care of all new check-ins. I hurried out the door as he was stepping out of his car. Wow- yum. I couldn't help but check him out as I checked him in. He was wearing a dark tank top, displaying those fabulous, tattooed arms. And his eyes. Oh my, his eyes. And it was sweet, the way he was trembling, ever so slightly, both from the cold and nervousness. Upon filling out all of the prerequisite paperwork, he was sent away, with my eyes on his heinie. I couldn't help myself.

That night and the next day, it was all I could do to not continually sneak peeks at him whenever he was in the vicinity. He seemed to be alone for the time being, and knowing how overwhelming and crazy it is the first time at camp, it was only right to make small talk. This served both a selfish and customer service purpose. Knowing how I am though, it was mostly selfish. That night as I lay in bed, I could not get him out of my mind.

The following day, was more of the same, although I was able to buck up the courage to chat a little more. I am not, by nature, a chatter or one who has the eloquence or tenacity to talk to a total stranger. This was quite a feat.

That night, I knew I had to get to know him. I cruised by his campsite in one of the golf carts (which is just one of the many exquisite pleasures to be had at camp). He was standing in the firelight, chatting with his neighbors. I stopped to chat (again, not my typical M.O.) and set off an entire string of events that would upend my perception of love, relationships, and life as I had know it at the time.

I've always heard that growth opportuinites abound at camp. And since the kink world was fairly shrouded to me, one would think these opportunities would avail themselves to me on a regular basis. They did, in droves, but hiding from the unknown is sadly a smooth trick in my woefully small toybag. And because of this sad circumstance, I was not ready for what was coming.

That night after chatting, things transpired that blew my mind. To protect the mostly innocent, details will be excluded here. But know now that I was taken so far out of my normal realm of reality that I needed a Lear jet to get back to home base. He had me hooked like a trout on a line, though a fight was not to be had.

Returning back to the tent that morning (at approximately 5:30am), all was not right in Whoville. Boo was less than thrilled with my deviations, having not told her previously that he and I would be doing more than casually chatting. However, the events that were the cause of her distress were unplanned and wholly unexpected. A fact that was stressed when we talked. Her acceptance of the matter was slow but eventual, though her anger was immediate. We left the matter with a budding understanding of what one expected of the other, and shaken spirits.

Spank has a thoroughly entertaining event called the People Auction. Anyone that cared to was able to auction themselves or their services off in exchange for large sums of "Spank Bucks". He was up on the block, both of his own volition and possibly having been asked and told he would be a "big draw". Though on staff, I did not have a large wad as many campers did, having forgotten to grab a stack while up at the registration hut. What he went for, I don't remember- I stopped counting after they blew past the $5000 in my pocket. With him being on stage, I finally had a good excuse to stare at him as much as as I liked. I can still see the slightly apprehensive look on his face, the nervous tapping of the toy in his hand. And those blessedly gorgeous eyes. A strange feeling knocked at the goo of my brain, which I at that time did not want to acknowledge. However, after the auctioneer proclaimed he was "Sold!", the feeling fought to the forefront of my brain. And I was terrified.

On quickly leaving the crowded Lounge, I desprately sought out our den mother/ soccer mom/ boss, knowing she could provide me with the much neeeded explanation and perspective. Fighting back tears, I went from place to place searching for her, for she rarely stood still. Having found her and availing ourselves of two chairs on the patio, my tempest broke lose. At that moment in time, one of our presenters happened to be walking by (a truly delightful and wise woman). She was poly and Soccer Mom said she would be the better person to explain what this storm was inside of me.

How could I be jealous that this person, with whom I had only played once, was going to play with another? We had no significant connection, no commitment. Most importantly, there was Boo, the woman with whom I was in love and committed to! But we had agreed that some play was possible, especially with this this particular man, so why was I feeling as though the world had gone horribly in reverse?? I did not realize it at the time, but there had been a connection on a certain level. And it guaranteed to throw me for a tumultuous loop.

Presenter Woman held me gently as I sobbed, truly sobbed, as my world had lost its familiar landmarks. This was normal and expected, to feel the green-eyed jealousy when new in the world of those that play outside their established relationships she assured. It didn't make my relationship with Boo mean any less, nor did it mean we were lacking in some aspect. It meant I had a need that at that time, was namelessly waiting for acknowledgement. I did not want to admit how good it felt to be with a man after 2 years of a testosterone drought. Nor did I have the strentgh to admit that I wanted more. She talked me down from the emotional cliff and gradually lifted the weight on my shoulders. This would be ok and could fit into the life currently running in 5.1 stereo surround. Something in my heart popped and new light was seen down a hairy path.

The following day, Boo and I worked through what we could without assistance of our learned fellow kinksters. I had finally come to peace with this new development, but remained concerned about her. We talked it through as much as newbies could. She was slowly coming to understand, but still having trouble, as expected.

I deviate here, from the remaining details on the relationship troubles. Suffice to say, she come to the same light I did, albeit much slower and more resistingly. The details of the next night prove too mind-blowing to continue clogging this overblown bit of blather with more details than that of which I had orginally intended to put down.

The theme of the night's festivities was Fetish and Big Daddy's Strip Club would premeier. Having found a devlishly delicious PVC dress before camp, I was anxious to show it off. Now, more than ever, I was dying of curiosity on what he would think. I prepared nervously, partly from anticipation and partly from the Xanax and amaretto sour I had foolishly ingested. A friend and Boo helped get me into this wonderfully form-fitting bit of plastic. I did not care that I showed more thigh than ever in my life, nor that they were lumpy. I did not care how my arms looks or if my tummy did not look flat and toned. These thoughts were blissfully absent from all thought process. All that made itself known was that I looked as devatatingly sexy and hot as I truly felt. The trouble was, how in the hell would I get to the dungeon in heels and a dress that really did not lend itself to an evening stroll. Thankfully, a taxi happened by and a volunteer, whose eyes almost popped out, happily agreed to escort me up. Kneeling on the back seat, being unable to properly sit, we took off, the wind cool on my hot cheeks. By happy vircumstance, the object of my lust just happened to be walking by at the same time. I delighted in the hoot of appreciation and that he turned to stare as we dusted by.

Not wanting to yet face the onslaught of people in the lounge, I slipped into the kitchen and bathroom area, where the girls were preparing for their stripper debut. It made me feel better to see these smoking hot women proclaiming their nervousness. If these aesthetically gifted girls were nervous, perhaps the night wouldn't be so bad for me. After helping one into her waist cincher and agreeing to be a prop for another, I braced myself for my entrance to the Lounge. Opening the door, I scanned the room. There he was, looking as tempting, delicious, and lust-worthy as ever. I srode into the room with as much confidence as I could muster. He couldn't keep his eyes off of me. The evening flew on, with so many complimenting my outfit that I could not help but be overwhelmed. I was shaking, mostly due to the fact that I could feels so many appreciative eyes on me. This is not a feeling found in my every day life.

We made it into the dungeon and watched others play on the handcrafted implements of dungeon yumminess. Our attempts to get at a couple of these were repeatedly stymied, so we went upstairs to wait for the place to clear our a bit. Exact details of events that transpired in that room will again be omitted to protect the mostly innocent. Be assured, it was delicious. I assumed after that bit of romp, our plans for a cherry-popping flog were out the window. But he wasn't letting me get out of it so easily; I was fairly vibrating with excitement. On re-entering the dungeon, most campers had gone for the evening. He strapped me in and proceeded to intoduce me to this new world of pain. If I would have shivered any harder, the apparatus would have fallen to pieces; he knew what he was doing. Afterwards, I knew I was in love with this new thing and knew I wanted more. We went to his tent that night and I fell asleep in his arms, more sated, relaxed, and exhausted than I had in a long time.

Sunday would promise to be another day of emotional trial. After ther afternoon's closing ceremonies, we sat in the Lounge, talking about this and that. All the while, I could not keep my eyes off of him, know what was inevitably approaching. The approaching thunderheads were a perfect match for the apprehension in my heart. Of course, the time came that he must leave. After a final kiss, he was gone and the tears began to fall again, though not nearly as flooding as before. Gone was this new thing in my life that I knew I could not ignore or stay away from for very long. Gone was this new, delicious connection.

This post has grown gossly overblown, but the thoughts keep pouring out of my head, begging to be put to paper (ok, to blog). I had to put down the events of this tumultuous, intimidating, infuriating, and all-together glorious weekend. Part of the old me has fallen away, like so much sunburned skin and new has grown. I am forever changed, all due to one stong armed, soft voiced man. And I am forever greatful.

you neek

Growing up, I was always the "weird" one. Now I know that I'm unique. Here's the proof!

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 1 or fewer people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

There is only One person in the US of A with my name, and thats me!!!

Christmas is coming- fast!

Once again, the holidays have sneaked up on me. I'm a procrastinator by nature, so I put off gift-buying "until next paycheck". This starts around October, when the Christmas decorations start shoving the ghosts, goblins, and candy corn from the store shelves. But, as ever, its 2 weeks before Christmas and I still have a pile of gifts to get. I'd planned on making more gifts this year, but thats on the procrastinators list as well.

Whatever happens, this will be another magical season. A time for family, pretty wrapping paper, and eating specials dinners around the table.

Create your own snowflake

I like this site. It allows you to create your own snowflake without having to break out the paper and scissors.