Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Fire Am I

I really need an altar. I really really need an altar. I need somewhere where I can put things and not worry that the cats are going to decide that that spot is exactly where they need to land after making a spectacular flying leap and I need to have some stability about where I put all my shit in general.

Perhaps I ought to go to Ikea and get something table-like. Preferably with shelves and/or drawers. I can paint, it'll work.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Gone Away, Oh Gone Away

It popped out Saturday morning, with a little bit of help. Basically all that was holding it in was a bunch of crud that hadn't solidified into actual skin yet, so it didn't hurt at all. And thus endeth the great piercing experiment. Think I'll just stick with my ears from now on.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Losing You

Looks like my estimate of a month was wildly optimistic; the second nipple ring's going to be out before the weekend's over at the rate it's going. It's not outside the realm of possibility that it'll pop tonight, in fact. At least I'll get to stop worrying about it.

And, of course, my period is starting, just in time for the weekend which is when I generally get laid. Sometimes being female is less fun than one might hope. On the other hand at least I don't have to mess around with maintaining my place in the male hierarchy at all times, so it's fair enough.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Steely Knives

I think it's official; the nipple piercing thing is a bust--pun most definitely intended. I got them done about two and a half, three years ago because Luke's got a thing for piercings and I figured the nipples were a good place; they're not visible to the general public, they've got a sexual connotation, and most importantly they were not my clit, which is what he was lobbying for. No, no, a thousand times no.

They never healed right in the first place; I don't know if it was my fault for not doing the right care or if I was just unlucky. Then, about 18 months after the piercing, I noticed that the right one was not producing crud anymore but that I could see the ring through the skin. And a few weeks later the last little bit of skin broke and the ring dropped out. Annoying as hell, being lopsided.

The other one stayed in, though still occasionally cruddy or bloody, but about three weeks ago I observed that it too has gotten much closer to the surface, a process which has continued. I think it's got about another month before it goes; I'd take it out myself but I'm afraid of getting an abcess so I'm thinking of letting nature take its course.

Ah well, at least we'll be able to use the nipple clamps again.

Makin' Love

I've mentioned that I like being tied up, right? And I'm in a lovely relationship with a man who likes tying women up, so all ought to be hunky-dory. Except, of course, for the part where it's not.

We have these lovely leather cuffs, even. We have ropes attached to the bed. It'd take an extra five minutes, tops (no pun intended) to get me tied up and then untied afterwards. And yet we never do it; a few weeks ago I got tied up for the first time in about a year, and it consisted of having my hands tied with rope. It was nice--it was really nice, believe me--but it just wasn't the same. I want some committment in my bondage!

Part of the problem appears to be that Luke's into the whole suspension thing and tying me down flat just doesn't do it for him. Yet we have taken no steps to remedy this problem, despite a spare bedroom and the hardware to hang a porch swing. (I am very confused by the package for that hardware, which says you shouldn't use it to hang moving loads from. It's a porch swing--is swinging not moving?)

I actually brought the topic up, which is what got my hands tied, and he says that he's holding off to frustrate me. This raises mixed feelings--yeah, I like being frustrated (it's a sub thing, I don't get it either), but I wasn't aware we were going for quite that 24/7 a relationship and also, more than a year is one hell of a lot of frustration, especially when I haven't been informed what's going on and so think he's just being dense.

Maybe what I need to do is make it clear that we're not in the fun kind of frustration anymore.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Holiday! Celebrate!

I missed Lughnasadh (August 1, the first harvest festival) again this year because I was out of town and didn't think about it. Bad, bad me. Especially since where I was is really one of the better places on Earth to be a pagan.

I should really get my ass in gear and set up a proper altar. I might be able to get over the "wow this is silly" feeling with some practice.

Welcome to the Jungle

Apologia

So the problem with my regular blog is that people who know me in real life know where it is. People like my mother...and my grandmother. And I can't talk about a bunch of things where Mom can see it, much less Gramma. Hence, this place, which is for me to talk about stuff I don't want parental units and old friends seeing.

Dramatis Personae

Me: I am in my early 30s, and I work at a job I hate because it requires all of 15% of my brain power to perform but gets affronted when this is pointed out. I am a neo-pagan (which is one of the things Mom is Not To Find Out): I worship a Goddess and a God, believe in magic, all that good stuff. I'm a sexual submissive and a masochist. In short, I get off on being tied up and beaten. I know it's weird; there's nothing I can do about it. I'm also het, though I've had sex with a woman and enjoyed it, and I'm of the opinion that having sex with someone other than the person you're officially involved with is not really a big deal. Despite being a heterosexual sub, I am firmly feminist everywhere not in bed, and also a flaming liberal. You may feel free to lambast me for any of these traits; I in turn will post your comments with mocking, MST3K-style interleaved commentary. Because it's my blog, baby.

Luke: My live-in lover and the person who does most of the tying up and beating. We're planning to have kids in the not-too-distant future. Our current greatest source of friction is the fact that he doesn't have a steady job.

Mom: People other than me have told me that my mother is crazy. The problem is that it's not one of those nice obvious crazies; it's the kind of crazy that results from a woman who was supposed to have a white picket fence, a dog and 2.3 children and instead wound up divorced with a single daughter who likes sci-fi cons and comic books, isn't planning to get married before procreating, and is living with a man nearly two decades her senior. Mom was the oldest of four, and boy does it show. She tries to manage everyone--for their own good, of course.

Occasional Players

Odin and Freya: The cats. Odin is so called because one of his eyes is nearly useless due to a cataract. I love my cats.

Honoria: My oldest friend...at least, she was when we were ten. These days she's coasting on being blond and tall, and I'm trying to have a life that means something. It's awkward.

Mac: An old boyfriend who screwed me over a whole lot.

Fiona: There was a time I owed Fiona everything. Then she threatened to have me arrested.

Castor: My closest male friend aside from Luke. Cass and I dated once, and I was in love with him for years afterwards. These days we have each other as, well, backups, and if we're ever both single at the same time we may well fall madly in bed and/or get involved again. But right now we don't sleep together.

Dad: A large part of the reason Mom didn't get the child she wanted, my dad began reading me The Lord of the Rings as a bedtime story when I was five. Mom's a Muggle; Dad is firmly not.

Other players will be introduced as they become relevant.