Well, Monday morning has rolled around again - that said, I could say its really Wednesday and with the help of a few words and a script embedded in a page, for a couple of seconds maybe, you'd believe me, why? because the written word is more powerful than any weapon. That's the ugly downside to the internet, a few typed words and lives can change in a heartbeat.
Take, for example, a recent blog post of mine, in which I described myself as a cunt - am I really that cruel? truth is, yes but not in the way I described. Did I really mass mailbomb a group of people? no I didn't - but the power of suggestion using words made even the people who really do know the person typing this stop and think.
In the age of social networking and multi media lifestyles, it's all very well checking and rechecking privacy settings, of taking care to protect yourself from viruses, malware and the odd psycho to feel secure behind your firewall when you log on each day - but have you ever stopped to consider if you're safe from your own mind - there isn't an anti bullshit download for that.
Blogs, status updates, emails, messenger programmes - we all use them, we all sit happily chatting away to people we will never meet but can we really be sure we trust them with our innermost parts? truth is - no, we can't and yet we carry on regardless, which is all fine and dandy if we have nothing to hide but can you really be sure that the person you're talking to is who they say they are?
You can't - and it always makes me roar when someone with something to hide, pretends to be something other than who they really are gets found out - because 9 times out of 10 the 'fake' is the person who shouts the loudest about respect and trust and honesty.
So why am I a cunt? because I deliberately wrote a blog to remind someone of this fact - I put together a post that suggested I had ripped his world in to pieces under the guise my being a scorned woman. Now he knows I could have done it, sweet little me could have very easily pieced together the pieces of information he had given over the course of a year and used it for foul revenge - but I didn't.
I wrote it with a very deliberate intention, to highlight the fact that if you're going to live a "second life" you need to be honest with yourself first, it's all very well pretending to be someone online, we all do it to a certain extent, chatrooms and the like are fantastic places for escapism - but if you choose to go down that route don't become a victim to it. If RL truly comes first, then get off the internet and live in the real world and if you're not happy, change it - yes its hard but you're master of your life and playing a pity me card will only work for so long - the world of the internet is great but don't lose focus of the fact that it's not real, real is what happens when you log off, there are real people around you being hurt and damaged while you lock yourself away and type to strangers.
So why am I a cunt? simply because I am so sick and tired of watching people claim to be something they are not, damage people along the way and show little if no remorse for that - so with the power of suggestion and nothing more than words on a page, I used my blog to show someone that RL is more important and that true happiness cannot be found in pixel form, you have to find it in yourself first before you can ever be content in the company of others, physical or virtual.
I make no apology for that, this is my blog, how people interpret it is entirely up to them, if it struck a nerve, a guilty conscience then so be it - we're only ever responsible for our own actions just don't believe everything you read ;)
Monday, 7 March 2011
Sunday, 6 March 2011
cravings
I WANT A CIGARETTE !!
Well actually I don't 'want' one but my brain is telling me I haven't had a chemical hit today and it now neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds one. I won't have one but I may have a few moments of whinging while the urge passes.
Because that's all they are - moments.
Previous quit attempts have involved fake fags, gums, patches and 101 Biro's with chewed ends and I think I know why they didn't work - it's all very well replacing a ciggie with a plastic tube and filling it with a nicotine shot, but its actually that hand to mouth movement that needs to stop too. Okay, so it may work for some people but for me, it just reinforced that craving as my body wasn't getting the full effect of a king sized straight and with all the interesting stuff they put in to tobacco, I'm not entirely convinced its only the nicotine that makes quitting so difficult.
I've been googling and found that some of the over 4000 components that go in to one little smoke are of a questionable nature, who in their right mind thought that mixing generic tobacco with half of the pesticides and poisons found in the list below was a marketing strategy of pure genius proportions
So, I'm quitting, have wanted to for a while now and several failed attempts under my belt, I'm not about to become one of thise people who preach on the topic - but I am going to write this blog entry for a reference point to myself.
With only one member of my immediate family dying of heart disease and the rest going out riddled with cancer, you'd think I either would have never started smoking, or atleast quit on death days instead of sneaking off for a quick smoke after a funeral service, you'd think those images of a tar coated lungs on the back of a packet would have stopped me or even the more recent government campaign of making smoking socially unacceptable in public places and shown children passively smoking during commercial breaks on the tele would have worked - but none did, don't get me wrong, there was always room for pause and thought on the matter but none of the above were reason for me to never light up again.
What has worked? is the realisation that every time I spark up, I am chosing my own destiny but forcing the shoulders of my children to carry that. My 11 year old gave me a graphic description last year on just what smoking is doing to my body and it still wasn't the physical that caused me concern - it was the realisation that by smoking, I am forcing my children to watch me slowly kill myself - it may all be about personal choice, but when that choice affects the lives of the unheard then it's time to stop. By inhaling, effectively I'm making my children fear for our futures and that is why I've quit.
BUT - I won't ever tell anyone else to quit, it's a personal choice and while medics could profess the addictions involved and the government continue to spam us with anti smoking literature, the simple fact is, we all know it's a bad thing but we're allowed to decide for ourselves what we do next.
The only immediate downside to not smoking - is that the sense of smell comes back really quickly... I thought my cat farts were bad before .. nowadays they're of epic, biological warfare proportion.
Well actually I don't 'want' one but my brain is telling me I haven't had a chemical hit today and it now neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds one. I won't have one but I may have a few moments of whinging while the urge passes.
Because that's all they are - moments.
Previous quit attempts have involved fake fags, gums, patches and 101 Biro's with chewed ends and I think I know why they didn't work - it's all very well replacing a ciggie with a plastic tube and filling it with a nicotine shot, but its actually that hand to mouth movement that needs to stop too. Okay, so it may work for some people but for me, it just reinforced that craving as my body wasn't getting the full effect of a king sized straight and with all the interesting stuff they put in to tobacco, I'm not entirely convinced its only the nicotine that makes quitting so difficult.
I've been googling and found that some of the over 4000 components that go in to one little smoke are of a questionable nature, who in their right mind thought that mixing generic tobacco with half of the pesticides and poisons found in the list below was a marketing strategy of pure genius proportions
but what has shocked me more was this little piece I found ..
Ammonia: Household cleaner
Angelica root extract: Known to cause cancer in animals
Arsenic: Used in rat poisons
Benzene: Used in making dyes, synthetic rubber
Butane: Gas; used in lighter fluid
Carbon monoxide: Poisonous gas
Cadmium: Used in batteries
Cyanide: Deadly poison
DDT: A banned insecticide
Ethyl Furoate: Causes liver damage in animals
Lead: Poisonous in high doses
Formaldehyde: Used to preserve dead specimens
Methoprene: Insecticide
Megastigmatrienone: Chemical naturally found in grapefruit juice
Maltitol: Sweetener for diabetics
Naphthalene: Ingredient in mothballs
Methyl isocyanate: Its accidental release killed 2000 people in Bhopal, India in 1984
Polonium: Cancer-causing radioactive element
Along with blended tobacco and water, the 26-item L&M list includes high fructose corn syrup, sugar, natural and artificial licorice flavor, menthol, artificial milk chocolate and natural chocolate flavor, valerian root extract, molasses and vanilla extractsand I'm begining to wonder just what else is hidden, it strikes me as rather clever to have vile ingredients mixed in with 'feel good flavours', total brain fuckery that mean cigarette manufactuors are laughing all the way to the bank.
So, I'm quitting, have wanted to for a while now and several failed attempts under my belt, I'm not about to become one of thise people who preach on the topic - but I am going to write this blog entry for a reference point to myself.
With only one member of my immediate family dying of heart disease and the rest going out riddled with cancer, you'd think I either would have never started smoking, or atleast quit on death days instead of sneaking off for a quick smoke after a funeral service, you'd think those images of a tar coated lungs on the back of a packet would have stopped me or even the more recent government campaign of making smoking socially unacceptable in public places and shown children passively smoking during commercial breaks on the tele would have worked - but none did, don't get me wrong, there was always room for pause and thought on the matter but none of the above were reason for me to never light up again.
What has worked? is the realisation that every time I spark up, I am chosing my own destiny but forcing the shoulders of my children to carry that. My 11 year old gave me a graphic description last year on just what smoking is doing to my body and it still wasn't the physical that caused me concern - it was the realisation that by smoking, I am forcing my children to watch me slowly kill myself - it may all be about personal choice, but when that choice affects the lives of the unheard then it's time to stop. By inhaling, effectively I'm making my children fear for our futures and that is why I've quit.
BUT - I won't ever tell anyone else to quit, it's a personal choice and while medics could profess the addictions involved and the government continue to spam us with anti smoking literature, the simple fact is, we all know it's a bad thing but we're allowed to decide for ourselves what we do next.
The only immediate downside to not smoking - is that the sense of smell comes back really quickly... I thought my cat farts were bad before .. nowadays they're of epic, biological warfare proportion.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
boiled prim bunny
To the people that know me, I'm quiet, shy, sweet Lil Pip, a good friend, a trustable and dependable person who wouldn't seek to hurt any one. The few people who really know me though, know that I have the word bitch engraved in to the cold rod of steel that runs through me and this week, this week the devil within was unleashed.
I don't do confrontation, I don't do screaming rows and plate smashing, I go for a more cold and calculated approach when pissed off which maybe isn't something to be proud of and while very rarely will anyone ever get to see that side of me, but when pushed that far I will silently slip inside someone and rape their colon while they sleep.
You see, I don't do being used very easily. I don't do being lied to either and when someone comes in to my life, manages to achieve both of those without batting an eyelid and then begins to portray themselves as a superhero with morals purer than Snow White, I have this ugly habit of snapping.
What does snapping mean exactly if it isn't screaming like a banshee at the condescending bastard, or hurling 100wpm verbal abuse at the patronising cretin? well for me it involved one of my 'true friends' - google
The thing with forging friendships/ relationships online, if you're too busy trying to get out of that situation what you can, you stop being careful about the personal information you're sharing. It's all too easy to let slip what seem innocent status updates or tit-bits of your real life while you're desperately trying to manipulate a person in to believing in you - okay, so you don't give out your home address or telephone number but every now and then you will drop a comment and it's dear sweet little ebil cunts like me who will store those little time bombs away in the file marked "for future reference".. just in case they're ever needed ... and when that day comes, half an hour with google and those little time bombs become a WMD.
And here's the thing, while you may gasp at the horror of which I type here, consider me to be sly or underhand, think on this one thing - if you're going to treat me like a cunt, don't act surprised when I turn out to be one.
I took great delight in compiling that mass email, the one that has been read by your family, friends and work colleagues, I thoroughly enjoyed explaining in high quality graphic detail just what it is you really use the Internet for, I felt incredibly overwhelmed with emotion when using purdy italicised fonts to link every single web page, profile and conversation written by you and I damned near orgasmed when hitting the SEND button
but the fun doesn't stop there ..
because all it took was a song and a social networking site....
and now I'm damn near catatonic in euphoria knowing that on Monday morning, you will have to walk in to your workplace and not know which of your fellow 9-5ers know the truth about you - you're going to be hiding at your desk feeling eyes on you and not only are you going to be feeling sick but your stomach is going to be turning inside out every time the phone rings, could the next call be from a relative with a tone that will cut through your callous heart or will you go home at the end of the day to find your child has used a big fat red crayon to scribble daddy out of the family portrait ....
you see - it doesn't matter how careful you think you are online, someone else's privacy settings (or lack thereof) will ALWAYS fuck you up, which isn't a problem if you are honest about who you are but the second you log on and think you can keep your real life and virtual life separate - YOU'RE SCREWED
or do you really believe you are invincible, are you so lost to your virtual persona that you actually believe you are a decent man and will be completely unaware that any of these people now know the truths of your deceptions, now have documented evidence of your infidelities and who are now taking steps to remove you from their own realities.
And there's the rub - it's one giant mash up of questions,
has she really done it? who now knows? need a box of dihocalm yet?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I could have destroyed someone's life on Thursday night, I had the means and I had the desire to set fire to the arse of the man who hurt me
One apology, one heartfelt simple apology was all I wanted - a small token of recognition that he has the manners of a warthog and the morals of a sewer rat, an admittance that I purely was a 'snickers subbie' - a gap filler rather than of any real substance or worth, rather than the girl he supposedly loved and the girl whom he would whisper suggestion of real life to,
Okay, okay, I fell for it all - more fool me huh, what began as a pity cyber fuck has lead me to here, being full of vitriol and venom for a man with who hasn't got a clue that half the population of his blog readers only read it for the inaneness of it, for a man who doesn't know he is being laughed at from the moment he taps his fat little fingers on his keyboard, for a man who postures and proclaims to be so caring, considerate, empathic and genuine yet to his wider audience is perceived as a joke and I'll admit that, I could have very easily given Glenn Close a run for her rabbit stew pot
*if* he had of been more honest, *if* he had of been the person he tries to paint himself to be maybe, just maybe it would have all been very different but sadly for men like that,
men who truly believe they have something special to give, men who believe in an imaginary self worth,
men who have to constantly tell everyone they are superman helping little old ladies across the road and fighting for the justice of the downtrodden.
men who have a need they cannot satisfy in the confines of their real life and who destroy the lives of the people they cross while on the mission to find their nirvana.
men who use BDSM as their support tool, claiming to be cute little submissive simply to put the blame on to the evil bitch in heels who told, neigh demanded he kneel before them and wank,
(even if was only over the typed words of Kevin from Margate cleverly disguised as a female pixel goddess).
men who don't actually have the balls to change their situation and live as a pathetic victim "because of the children" and who actually believe they are the wronged party because their not getting their kinky sex needs met by their spouse - but who have never stopped to consider that said spouse actually finds them loathsome, unattractive and pre-pubescent puerile.
and men who actually do deserve to be sodomised by the karma cactus ....
I don't do confrontation, I don't do screaming rows and plate smashing, I go for a more cold and calculated approach when pissed off which maybe isn't something to be proud of and while very rarely will anyone ever get to see that side of me, but when pushed that far I will silently slip inside someone and rape their colon while they sleep.
You see, I don't do being used very easily. I don't do being lied to either and when someone comes in to my life, manages to achieve both of those without batting an eyelid and then begins to portray themselves as a superhero with morals purer than Snow White, I have this ugly habit of snapping.
What does snapping mean exactly if it isn't screaming like a banshee at the condescending bastard, or hurling 100wpm verbal abuse at the patronising cretin? well for me it involved one of my 'true friends' - google
The thing with forging friendships/ relationships online, if you're too busy trying to get out of that situation what you can, you stop being careful about the personal information you're sharing. It's all too easy to let slip what seem innocent status updates or tit-bits of your real life while you're desperately trying to manipulate a person in to believing in you - okay, so you don't give out your home address or telephone number but every now and then you will drop a comment and it's dear sweet little ebil cunts like me who will store those little time bombs away in the file marked "for future reference".. just in case they're ever needed ... and when that day comes, half an hour with google and those little time bombs become a WMD.
And here's the thing, while you may gasp at the horror of which I type here, consider me to be sly or underhand, think on this one thing - if you're going to treat me like a cunt, don't act surprised when I turn out to be one.
I took great delight in compiling that mass email, the one that has been read by your family, friends and work colleagues, I thoroughly enjoyed explaining in high quality graphic detail just what it is you really use the Internet for, I felt incredibly overwhelmed with emotion when using purdy italicised fonts to link every single web page, profile and conversation written by you and I damned near orgasmed when hitting the SEND button
but the fun doesn't stop there ..
because all it took was a song and a social networking site....
and now I'm damn near catatonic in euphoria knowing that on Monday morning, you will have to walk in to your workplace and not know which of your fellow 9-5ers know the truth about you - you're going to be hiding at your desk feeling eyes on you and not only are you going to be feeling sick but your stomach is going to be turning inside out every time the phone rings, could the next call be from a relative with a tone that will cut through your callous heart or will you go home at the end of the day to find your child has used a big fat red crayon to scribble daddy out of the family portrait ....
you see - it doesn't matter how careful you think you are online, someone else's privacy settings (or lack thereof) will ALWAYS fuck you up, which isn't a problem if you are honest about who you are but the second you log on and think you can keep your real life and virtual life separate - YOU'RE SCREWED
or do you really believe you are invincible, are you so lost to your virtual persona that you actually believe you are a decent man and will be completely unaware that any of these people now know the truths of your deceptions, now have documented evidence of your infidelities and who are now taking steps to remove you from their own realities.
And there's the rub - it's one giant mash up of questions,
has she really done it? who now knows? need a box of dihocalm yet?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I could have destroyed someone's life on Thursday night, I had the means and I had the desire to set fire to the arse of the man who hurt me
One apology, one heartfelt simple apology was all I wanted - a small token of recognition that he has the manners of a warthog and the morals of a sewer rat, an admittance that I purely was a 'snickers subbie' - a gap filler rather than of any real substance or worth, rather than the girl he supposedly loved and the girl whom he would whisper suggestion of real life to,
Okay, okay, I fell for it all - more fool me huh, what began as a pity cyber fuck has lead me to here, being full of vitriol and venom for a man with who hasn't got a clue that half the population of his blog readers only read it for the inaneness of it, for a man who doesn't know he is being laughed at from the moment he taps his fat little fingers on his keyboard, for a man who postures and proclaims to be so caring, considerate, empathic and genuine yet to his wider audience is perceived as a joke and I'll admit that, I could have very easily given Glenn Close a run for her rabbit stew pot
*if* he had of been more honest, *if* he had of been the person he tries to paint himself to be maybe, just maybe it would have all been very different but sadly for men like that,
men who truly believe they have something special to give, men who believe in an imaginary self worth,
men who have to constantly tell everyone they are superman helping little old ladies across the road and fighting for the justice of the downtrodden.
men who have a need they cannot satisfy in the confines of their real life and who destroy the lives of the people they cross while on the mission to find their nirvana.
men who use BDSM as their support tool, claiming to be cute little submissive simply to put the blame on to the evil bitch in heels who told, neigh demanded he kneel before them and wank,
(even if was only over the typed words of Kevin from Margate cleverly disguised as a female pixel goddess).
men who don't actually have the balls to change their situation and live as a pathetic victim "because of the children" and who actually believe they are the wronged party because their not getting their kinky sex needs met by their spouse - but who have never stopped to consider that said spouse actually finds them loathsome, unattractive and pre-pubescent puerile.
and men who actually do deserve to be sodomised by the karma cactus ....
The only question remaining now is .. did I use lube?
Saturday, 19 February 2011
proactive behaviour
OK ... a list of goals I want to achieve in the next year in no particular order, although apparently hula hooping will have to go on a future list
I'm tired, tired of pain, tired of pills, tired of living a life in which everything I do needs careful planning, I'm tired of hiding away because it's easier than face the reality that is now me, I'm tired of doing it all on my own.
So something needs to change right?
Just over a week ago, I sat here with a load of crushed up pills and a bottle of vodka - not because I want to die, but because living became too much to cope with - and yes that is really rather selfish of me but not for the reasons people have hurled at me when they were told
I don't buy in to the "what about the people you leave behind" attitude towards suicide, I've been one of those people more times than I can count on 10 fingers, I've also been on the end of the phone when a family member or a friend has called to say "it ends tonight" and while it may upset some people, I'd rather someone went out when they chose to and not force themselves to live a life for someone else - okay, so there is a time to get help, to tell that person to get off their arse and fight for life but when the reason to say stop is stronger than the reason to carry on - then I respect that choice and don't feel it is fair to add the pressure of how their actions may or may not affect me sway their decision. I would truly hate for someone to exist out of guilt and that is why I hold the beliefs I do
So when I spoke of my being selfish, it had nothing to do with how my choices affect other people but instead from the knowledge that compared to so many, I have it easy - and my selfishness comes from my lack of 'want' to try.
I watched a documentary recently, part way through there was a clip about a blind Tibetan woman being carried 10km on the back of a man down the mountain to get a cataract operation and its feats of strength like that that leave me feeling utterly selfish, one medic this week told me that pain is only ever relative to the person feeling it and that it should never be dismissed in terms of a reason for feeling totally broken - but I don't particularly like myself very much for crying about something that over time, can be made bearable or for not having enough of a positive attitude to deal with it effectively.
So that's what needs to change - my outlook, for the most part it is there but every now and then I let go and fall in to self pity mode - but one day ... one day I am going walk a marathon.
- I want to walk without fear - everything else will fall in to place once I master this
- I want to look at a flight of stairs and climb them without handrails
- I want to pick my children up when they fall
- I want to drive again
- I want to not have to deal with everything on my own
- I want to be able to face the outside world and not feel so scared
- I want to paddle in the sea, fly a kite on the sand
- I want to ride a bike
- I want to wake up in the morning and not reach for the pills
- I want to have a snowball fight
- I want to take the boys camping
- I want a social life filled with real people and not live by which medical appt. I'm at next
- I want to get excited by lingerie not support tights
- I want to buy a pair of shoes with a 6" heel
- I want a hug, to feel someone hold me/ to hold someone
- I want sex, animalistic rough fucking that leaves me breathless or even the gentlest of touch
- I want to look at my reflection and see a 34 year old woman and not an old, haggard mess
- I want to go to the hairdresser and get a proper cut
- I want to not feel so pathetic and weak
- I want a long hot bubble bath with a bottle of wine and a good book
I'm tired, tired of pain, tired of pills, tired of living a life in which everything I do needs careful planning, I'm tired of hiding away because it's easier than face the reality that is now me, I'm tired of doing it all on my own.
So something needs to change right?
Just over a week ago, I sat here with a load of crushed up pills and a bottle of vodka - not because I want to die, but because living became too much to cope with - and yes that is really rather selfish of me but not for the reasons people have hurled at me when they were told
I don't buy in to the "what about the people you leave behind" attitude towards suicide, I've been one of those people more times than I can count on 10 fingers, I've also been on the end of the phone when a family member or a friend has called to say "it ends tonight" and while it may upset some people, I'd rather someone went out when they chose to and not force themselves to live a life for someone else - okay, so there is a time to get help, to tell that person to get off their arse and fight for life but when the reason to say stop is stronger than the reason to carry on - then I respect that choice and don't feel it is fair to add the pressure of how their actions may or may not affect me sway their decision. I would truly hate for someone to exist out of guilt and that is why I hold the beliefs I do
So when I spoke of my being selfish, it had nothing to do with how my choices affect other people but instead from the knowledge that compared to so many, I have it easy - and my selfishness comes from my lack of 'want' to try.
I watched a documentary recently, part way through there was a clip about a blind Tibetan woman being carried 10km on the back of a man down the mountain to get a cataract operation and its feats of strength like that that leave me feeling utterly selfish, one medic this week told me that pain is only ever relative to the person feeling it and that it should never be dismissed in terms of a reason for feeling totally broken - but I don't particularly like myself very much for crying about something that over time, can be made bearable or for not having enough of a positive attitude to deal with it effectively.
So that's what needs to change - my outlook, for the most part it is there but every now and then I let go and fall in to self pity mode - but one day ... one day I am going walk a marathon.
Needs
So, I want to walk, I want to not feel miserable - next on my list? sex .. I MISS SEX!
this post may ramble on a bit ..
Its hard to clarify what I do want from a physical relationship or put fucking like a beast as a goal on my list, I'm having a massive identity crisis and am not sure who I am anymore, which in turn has a domino effect on my cunt because in order for me to find pleasure, surely I need to know from where I wish to find it.
Ever since I could wank, it's always been a subbie based fantasy that's got me off the quickest, when I discovered the internets and found not only a name but a whole wealth of information and people to explore this side of me with I, like many people gave myself the title of submissive and pigeon holed myself. That lead to some interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations and taught me a lot about myself, from there I switched and became a bitch in killer heels, again taking a title and living out yet more interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations.
But I've come to a point in my life where neither title 'fits' and I find myself on the edge of a community watching people posture, preen and try to out do each other in some secret competition to be the ultimate 'true bottom/top'. It all smells like bullshit to me and I know, because for a while there, I was right in the middle of it all trying to be 'one of them'.
The internet is a great resource but scratch away the shine and what you really see is a political nightmare, full of roleplay, playground behaviours and childish popularity contests. Maybe this is part of the 'journey' - to realise that actually, while it's all to easy to write YKIOK, believing in that rather than the erotic literature based ideals of what BDSM should be is when you've finally found 'it'.
Trouble in that theory is that meeting other people who will admit to not giving a damn about other peoples beliefs and perceptions is hard work, no-body wants to be an outcast and that is exactly what happens when you dare to speak outside of the cage. To meet anyone, go to events, parties even simple munches - it seems you have to have a name or be verified by a known name in order to be spoken to, turn up at any of these events without having profiles on the relevant social sites and you're left outside of the cliques - which on one hand is no bad thing, who wants to be part of a group of people that need you to have passed security clearance first? but the flip side is in order to be accepted you need to be a part of this group - for a community that is apparently so broad minded and welcomming - there's a lot of red tape to get past first and that is where part of my identity crisis stems from
I don't need to win a popularity contest to feel ok about myself, I don't need to try and outdo another to gain 'celebrity', I don't need to have a CV of how many strokes of the cane I can take to prove myself, I'm actually ok with who I am - what I'm not ok with is knowing I'm stuck, of knowing I need to get out more and that the only way it seems possible to do that is by 'schmoozing' with the right names to be allowed access, something that leaves a very bitter taste.
Most of these sites come with title tags and they'd appreciate it if you took your correct name tag at the door ...
call myself Top and I get bombarded with "please miss, i'm new to the scene and just want to chat' emails that invairiably lead to 'thank you for replying, most dont as i'm a novice and an unknown - whats the baddest thing you've done to a naughty boy' conversation starters that are met with sarcasm, disappointment and a block.
call myself bottom and my inbox will fill with demands to submit to the man with the biggest flogger as a profile picture, threats and abuse when told 'no thanks' and the occasional, ooh you're feisty, I will break you/ ooh you're feisty, I'm really a subbie, please do me memos that leave me laughing till I pee.
call myself a switch and its a combination of the above with the occasional 'you dont belong here' message that tries to delve in to my brain and extract my 'twoo subbie nature'
it's all bullshit - I'm me, 'Pip', I will bake you a cake but I will eat it infront of you too if the mood takes me there. So now its 'kinkster' a title which helps everyone else identify me (ok, stops all the wanky men roaring at me and beating their naked chest) but doesn't actually define who I am.
(pauses for a cuppa)
I guess I'm just disillusioned with it all, the focus isn't on the person but on their kink list. I won't lie, I've judged aswell as been judged, have tried to 'fit in' and dismiss people who don't meet my own ideals - I don't particularly like myself for that but I'm told its just human nature :s a survival/ selection system of sorts.
So, I've lived in a long term D/s relationship, I've been poly, a demo bunny, a one night fling, a part time play thing and a series of short term contractual sessioners - and yet, while I could sit here and write out my CV, it seems experience is only recognised if it was taught by a "valued member"
Due to "RL", I thought I'd explore the online thing, only once and never again, a collar whether a verbal, physical or virtual thing is still something I have full respect for, except in that situation when it came off quicker than a velcro rip strap .. and truth be told I'm still very bitter about the experience.
See, the great thing about SL for me is that inworld, I have a body that can move and I use the grid as pure escapism within the realms of what I would do if I physically could, I met someone, felt a real feeling for, poly'd to him and his partner, loved them both dearly but didnt feel stable enough for it to continue, cried when he left SL, cried when she defriended me (I guess I was only worth the status I bought them), felt those feelings for him even more when he came back under a new name, asked for time to balance myself when he begged for me to wear his collar, eventually took it, thought I was safe and got dropped from a great height
But now have become a person I don't like very much as I feel totally used and bite my tongue on a daily basis so as not to dishonour him, he writes of love and respect and of his own hurt but not once has he even stopped to notice I muted him or question why and it's that that bothers me, not just because of him, but because of this 'community' which claims a moral highground, demands respect and acknowledgement but behind all the nicities and ettiqettes is actually a group of people banding together under an umbrella for solidarity but all out for what they can get from each other without any real thought for the damage they cause
and that is why I don't 'fit in'
because I believe BDSM isn't about whips and chains, of kneeling in dutiful respect or of demanding obedience - it's about the relationship between people, be that two, three or a poly household and it shouldn't need a handbook or a checklist to make sure you're doing it right.
I don't need 'breaking down and remolding in to a proper submissive' and in the same respect, I don't need someone on their knees to make me feel dominant
what I seek is someone who feels it on a chemistry level, it's the energy between myself and someone else that excites me not what the porn industry classes as a 'scene' - I have 'slave' as a kanji tattoo on my body, not as a brand, mark of ownership or symbol but a simple design that represents part of who I am but it is just that - it's a part of who I am , finding someone who see's past that, beyond the benchmark set by a group of people who feel they have to constantly piss up a wall to prove their worth is proving a little difficult
this post may ramble on a bit ..
Its hard to clarify what I do want from a physical relationship or put fucking like a beast as a goal on my list, I'm having a massive identity crisis and am not sure who I am anymore, which in turn has a domino effect on my cunt because in order for me to find pleasure, surely I need to know from where I wish to find it.
Ever since I could wank, it's always been a subbie based fantasy that's got me off the quickest, when I discovered the internets and found not only a name but a whole wealth of information and people to explore this side of me with I, like many people gave myself the title of submissive and pigeon holed myself. That lead to some interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations and taught me a lot about myself, from there I switched and became a bitch in killer heels, again taking a title and living out yet more interesting, fantastic and down right risky situations.
But I've come to a point in my life where neither title 'fits' and I find myself on the edge of a community watching people posture, preen and try to out do each other in some secret competition to be the ultimate 'true bottom/top'. It all smells like bullshit to me and I know, because for a while there, I was right in the middle of it all trying to be 'one of them'.
The internet is a great resource but scratch away the shine and what you really see is a political nightmare, full of roleplay, playground behaviours and childish popularity contests. Maybe this is part of the 'journey' - to realise that actually, while it's all to easy to write YKIOK, believing in that rather than the erotic literature based ideals of what BDSM should be is when you've finally found 'it'.
Trouble in that theory is that meeting other people who will admit to not giving a damn about other peoples beliefs and perceptions is hard work, no-body wants to be an outcast and that is exactly what happens when you dare to speak outside of the cage. To meet anyone, go to events, parties even simple munches - it seems you have to have a name or be verified by a known name in order to be spoken to, turn up at any of these events without having profiles on the relevant social sites and you're left outside of the cliques - which on one hand is no bad thing, who wants to be part of a group of people that need you to have passed security clearance first? but the flip side is in order to be accepted you need to be a part of this group - for a community that is apparently so broad minded and welcomming - there's a lot of red tape to get past first and that is where part of my identity crisis stems from
I don't need to win a popularity contest to feel ok about myself, I don't need to try and outdo another to gain 'celebrity', I don't need to have a CV of how many strokes of the cane I can take to prove myself, I'm actually ok with who I am - what I'm not ok with is knowing I'm stuck, of knowing I need to get out more and that the only way it seems possible to do that is by 'schmoozing' with the right names to be allowed access, something that leaves a very bitter taste.
Most of these sites come with title tags and they'd appreciate it if you took your correct name tag at the door ...
call myself Top and I get bombarded with "please miss, i'm new to the scene and just want to chat' emails that invairiably lead to 'thank you for replying, most dont as i'm a novice and an unknown - whats the baddest thing you've done to a naughty boy' conversation starters that are met with sarcasm, disappointment and a block.
call myself bottom and my inbox will fill with demands to submit to the man with the biggest flogger as a profile picture, threats and abuse when told 'no thanks' and the occasional, ooh you're feisty, I will break you/ ooh you're feisty, I'm really a subbie, please do me memos that leave me laughing till I pee.
call myself a switch and its a combination of the above with the occasional 'you dont belong here' message that tries to delve in to my brain and extract my 'twoo subbie nature'
it's all bullshit - I'm me, 'Pip', I will bake you a cake but I will eat it infront of you too if the mood takes me there. So now its 'kinkster' a title which helps everyone else identify me (ok, stops all the wanky men roaring at me and beating their naked chest) but doesn't actually define who I am.
(pauses for a cuppa)
I guess I'm just disillusioned with it all, the focus isn't on the person but on their kink list. I won't lie, I've judged aswell as been judged, have tried to 'fit in' and dismiss people who don't meet my own ideals - I don't particularly like myself for that but I'm told its just human nature :s a survival/ selection system of sorts.
So, I've lived in a long term D/s relationship, I've been poly, a demo bunny, a one night fling, a part time play thing and a series of short term contractual sessioners - and yet, while I could sit here and write out my CV, it seems experience is only recognised if it was taught by a "valued member"
Due to "RL", I thought I'd explore the online thing, only once and never again, a collar whether a verbal, physical or virtual thing is still something I have full respect for, except in that situation when it came off quicker than a velcro rip strap .. and truth be told I'm still very bitter about the experience.
See, the great thing about SL for me is that inworld, I have a body that can move and I use the grid as pure escapism within the realms of what I would do if I physically could, I met someone, felt a real feeling for, poly'd to him and his partner, loved them both dearly but didnt feel stable enough for it to continue, cried when he left SL, cried when she defriended me (I guess I was only worth the status I bought them), felt those feelings for him even more when he came back under a new name, asked for time to balance myself when he begged for me to wear his collar, eventually took it, thought I was safe and got dropped from a great height
But now have become a person I don't like very much as I feel totally used and bite my tongue on a daily basis so as not to dishonour him, he writes of love and respect and of his own hurt but not once has he even stopped to notice I muted him or question why and it's that that bothers me, not just because of him, but because of this 'community' which claims a moral highground, demands respect and acknowledgement but behind all the nicities and ettiqettes is actually a group of people banding together under an umbrella for solidarity but all out for what they can get from each other without any real thought for the damage they cause
and that is why I don't 'fit in'
because I believe BDSM isn't about whips and chains, of kneeling in dutiful respect or of demanding obedience - it's about the relationship between people, be that two, three or a poly household and it shouldn't need a handbook or a checklist to make sure you're doing it right.
I don't need 'breaking down and remolding in to a proper submissive' and in the same respect, I don't need someone on their knees to make me feel dominant
what I seek is someone who feels it on a chemistry level, it's the energy between myself and someone else that excites me not what the porn industry classes as a 'scene' - I have 'slave' as a kanji tattoo on my body, not as a brand, mark of ownership or symbol but a simple design that represents part of who I am but it is just that - it's a part of who I am , finding someone who see's past that, beyond the benchmark set by a group of people who feel they have to constantly piss up a wall to prove their worth is proving a little difficult
Deux
Second on my list, although maybe it should be number one, is not to feel so miserable.
Miserable doesn't come close to explaining how low I get and I hate that I am so weak, which is why I try and hide how I do feel, it's really quite pathetic of me to cry and whinge about pain when compared to most people, I have it easy.
But I struggle with it, I miss doing so many simple things, I miss hugs, proper fall in to someones arms and hold them as tightly as they hold me moments - I can't do it, I'm not balanced in a cuddle, I can't support the weight of someone else's arms around me and the only way I can describe it is that I feel like a coke can being crushed, so I don't let anyone get that close.
I have to lay down to snuggle my babies and they're accepting of this fact but its unbearable, if they fall over I can't run to pick them up, they have to come to me and it shouldn't be that way, ok, it may be character building for them but its not right, I cant scoop them up and make it all better instantly.
I miss life, of being spontaneous and free to go wherever I want to, every venture outside my front door takes a degree of planning that I'm so tired of doing. Most of my problem is pride, I get that and it's down to me to make the effort, but 9 times out of 10 I just won't do it, because I cannot bear to be seen like this. It's not just pride, it's fear, I don't feel safe, one trip or badly placed foot and I'm back to square one, I don't have the confidence to risk that.
But I'm my biggest problem, I've become this damned disease's victim, in order to make progress I need to be doing more things but fear of pain, of failure, of embarrassment has become my safety net and with each day I'm hiding further away from the face of this thing. It's a lot easier to not try incase it hurts too much. Another reason why I don't say how I feel because truth is, I know how defeatist I have become and so don't feel it is fair to say 'today is a bad day' because I've caused a lot of it..
I truly do have the most incredible friends, who support me even though what I put them through is obscene and I will never be able to say just how much their love means to me, but during the really dark moments, I shy away from them, that's one of the 'beauties' of having friends who live miles away, 95% of our communication is done through wires and online I can pretend to be ok, what they don't see is me breaking when I log off and I while for the most part, I like it that way - inside I'm also screaming because I end up feeling even more alone.
I don't know how to find that balance though - every day is a 'bad day' but I refuse to become that emo friend, the one who brings everyone down, the one people avoid because its all 'woe is me', I'm not that person, trouble is my need to not be that person means I struggle to say how I do feel when I need to and I become so stuck in being unable to speak up I isolate myself even more.
I guess this blog is the beginning of breaking that cycle, I can whinge, bitch and moan to my hearts content here, people can read it to know where I'm at but I then don't have to fill an IM window full of my self pity, I can still be me, happy Pip, talking about anything and everything from lemon drizzle cake to anal fisting but in the knowledghe that now people do know instead of being freaked right out on the days when it all gets a little too much to bare.
Miserable doesn't come close to explaining how low I get and I hate that I am so weak, which is why I try and hide how I do feel, it's really quite pathetic of me to cry and whinge about pain when compared to most people, I have it easy.
But I struggle with it, I miss doing so many simple things, I miss hugs, proper fall in to someones arms and hold them as tightly as they hold me moments - I can't do it, I'm not balanced in a cuddle, I can't support the weight of someone else's arms around me and the only way I can describe it is that I feel like a coke can being crushed, so I don't let anyone get that close.
I have to lay down to snuggle my babies and they're accepting of this fact but its unbearable, if they fall over I can't run to pick them up, they have to come to me and it shouldn't be that way, ok, it may be character building for them but its not right, I cant scoop them up and make it all better instantly.
I miss life, of being spontaneous and free to go wherever I want to, every venture outside my front door takes a degree of planning that I'm so tired of doing. Most of my problem is pride, I get that and it's down to me to make the effort, but 9 times out of 10 I just won't do it, because I cannot bear to be seen like this. It's not just pride, it's fear, I don't feel safe, one trip or badly placed foot and I'm back to square one, I don't have the confidence to risk that.
But I'm my biggest problem, I've become this damned disease's victim, in order to make progress I need to be doing more things but fear of pain, of failure, of embarrassment has become my safety net and with each day I'm hiding further away from the face of this thing. It's a lot easier to not try incase it hurts too much. Another reason why I don't say how I feel because truth is, I know how defeatist I have become and so don't feel it is fair to say 'today is a bad day' because I've caused a lot of it..
I truly do have the most incredible friends, who support me even though what I put them through is obscene and I will never be able to say just how much their love means to me, but during the really dark moments, I shy away from them, that's one of the 'beauties' of having friends who live miles away, 95% of our communication is done through wires and online I can pretend to be ok, what they don't see is me breaking when I log off and I while for the most part, I like it that way - inside I'm also screaming because I end up feeling even more alone.
I don't know how to find that balance though - every day is a 'bad day' but I refuse to become that emo friend, the one who brings everyone down, the one people avoid because its all 'woe is me', I'm not that person, trouble is my need to not be that person means I struggle to say how I do feel when I need to and I become so stuck in being unable to speak up I isolate myself even more.
I guess this blog is the beginning of breaking that cycle, I can whinge, bitch and moan to my hearts content here, people can read it to know where I'm at but I then don't have to fill an IM window full of my self pity, I can still be me, happy Pip, talking about anything and everything from lemon drizzle cake to anal fisting but in the knowledghe that now people do know instead of being freaked right out on the days when it all gets a little too much to bare.
Friday, 18 February 2011
Bullet Proof
I never realised just how much I took for granted or just how difficult simple tasks can become when impaired, I'm 34 and am having to write a list of goals I want to achieve in the next year and it's not like a new years resolution type list or a bucket list, its a list of things I should be able to do, have done and struggle with being no longer able to do.
Top of my list .. walking, one foot in front of the other without wanting to cry, hold my groin in an MJesque pose or waddle like a duck.
It goes much deeper than that though, I'd like to be able to walk without watching each step, without looking where the next movement will land, without planning where and how each foot will go, without feeling unstable, vunerable and weak.
I rarely go out nowadays, I'll do the school run - without that I'd never leave the house at all, but I have that route down to individual kerb stones and flat surfaces, people whinge about the state of our roads in this country, they should try out the pavements some time.
Going further than that though, fills me with dread and I'll do anything I can to avoid it, I live in a small town but all it takes is for someone to walk out in front of me and I'm digging my sticks in to the ground to stay upright. Its unavoidable, people walk out of stores without looking, will stop suddenly to answer a mobile or to peer in to a shop window and I'm left wishing people came with indicators and brake lights as standard.
I don't feel safe, physically or mentally and so I stay at home.
So that's number one - to walk, unaided, without fear.
Top of my list .. walking, one foot in front of the other without wanting to cry, hold my groin in an MJesque pose or waddle like a duck.
It goes much deeper than that though, I'd like to be able to walk without watching each step, without looking where the next movement will land, without planning where and how each foot will go, without feeling unstable, vunerable and weak.
I rarely go out nowadays, I'll do the school run - without that I'd never leave the house at all, but I have that route down to individual kerb stones and flat surfaces, people whinge about the state of our roads in this country, they should try out the pavements some time.
Going further than that though, fills me with dread and I'll do anything I can to avoid it, I live in a small town but all it takes is for someone to walk out in front of me and I'm digging my sticks in to the ground to stay upright. Its unavoidable, people walk out of stores without looking, will stop suddenly to answer a mobile or to peer in to a shop window and I'm left wishing people came with indicators and brake lights as standard.
I don't feel safe, physically or mentally and so I stay at home.
So that's number one - to walk, unaided, without fear.
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