I have a confession to make … I’m a fangirl.
I know this may come as a shock so I understand if you need a minute to let it sink in. I don’t flag silver lame on the left, and consent is important to me, so it’s understandable that you may not even realise the depths of my squeeeeee.
Thank you, by the way, for the implied consent to social voyeurism of accepting my social media friend request. Thank you even more for returning the voyeuristic favour of looking over my past posts and pics and liking/loving things. My giddiness knows no bounds. I try to remain calm, cool, and collected but inside I’m bouncing up and down with barely contained delight.
You’re amazing. Externals aren’t really important to me and you’re really sexy on the inside. Don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate physical attractiveness (and you’ve got it – in spades). I’m just more excited by internal hotness. Double entendre absolutely intended.
I can’t wait to know more. Every time we meet you invite me into closer proximity. I’m thrilled to call you friend, lover, co-conspirator. Even as I’m approaching the inner circle, I’m filled with wonder and gratitude that I have been fortunate enough to glimpse the beauty of your soul. It’s exhilarating.
I miss you so much
I still can’t believe you’re gone
Death comes for us all
Thwap, thud, sting, inhale, moan
Writhe, smirk, flirt, wiggle, giggle
Bite, suck, pinch, kiss, fuck
I’ve always been a bit of a dabbler, a jack of all trades master of none – though the master of none is debatable due to my all-around awesomeness, let’s be honest 😉 Today I find myself a Jeni of all spaces, master of one.
- I am straddling two living spaces, neither of which is mine.
- I have entered into three separate, and hopefully not mutually exclusive, leather spaces and yet in some ways I’ve yet to cross the threshold and really fully exist in any of them. I’m a titleholder in one of them (#MsACL2017), and that is so exciting, but it’s also the group I am least familiar with.
- I am sort of in my fifth semester at school, sort of in my fourth, and I have about 15 clinic shifts to make up so I can’t really cross all the way into my new semester just yet.
- I am involved in multiple partner relationships, some of which are intimate, some of which are just beginning, some of which are ending, some of which are developing in new and profound ways.
- I find myself supported and loved by a new family, some of whom – like any family – are somewhat abrasive to me as I no doubt am to them. At the same time, I find myself further from my family of origin than ever before and this time it isn’t from a rage-filled angst space but simply from an acknowledgment that they’re not able to support me in the ways I need to be fulfilled.
A world in flux is becoming my normal. I have long considered myself an agent of change – having worked professionally in systems development and evaluation for years – but I have always relied on some kind of foundational sameness and that has eroded away over the past year. That said, I’m stronger and firmer in my convictions than I ever have been. I’m drowning in painful emotional crises but I’m uplifted and grateful for the joy and happiness I am finding. I am ever more aware of what honour, respect, and integrity mean to me – and that means holding space for myself and others when we falter in those ideals. It means holding myself accountable – and asking others to hold themselves accountable. It means not doing the work for those unwilling to do it themselves, or even to recognise that there is work to be done. It means that my love doesn’t come with a condition of worthiness AND it means that my time is valuable and I will respect my own boundaries.
All of the change and the straddling of spaces, while in some ways highlighting the smorgasbord of different pieces coming together to create me, has also made it clear just how similar these various aspects are. The fascism in the news is playing out all around us constantly. It isn’t always a big event like a rally. Sometimes it’s something small, like silence from leadership when someone says deeply injurious things. Sometimes it’s an insistence on neutrality when there aren’t “many sides” from an ethical standpoint. As a friend recently said, “if you’re going to imitate Switzerland you better bring cheese and chocolate [cuz] that’s all you’re good for.”
I’m proud of myself in a way I never have been before, in ways that are less about ego and throwing my not insubstantial personality around. I have discovered an inner core and, more importantly, I have discovered that it isn’t stone or metal – I was born under signs of change and my core can morph into what I need it to be at any given moment. I can ride the waves, I can be the rock, I can heal in the darkness and glorify in the light, I can survive the storm –> and I can bring the lightning.
Watch me dance naked in the moonlight if that’s all you can manage. Join me if you’re able. Either way, I’m dancing.
This is a new space for me to inhabit. I’ve thought about what to say, where to go, how we can fix this for so long that – even as I acknowledged the hypothetical scenario where it wasn’t fixable – it never really seemed like the likely next step was to rend this further, past the breaking point.
I’ve been hurt before, who hasn’t? I’ve wanted to get over people and things before and been annoyed that I had to give them the time and space to heal. But this…
This is uncharted territory. I love you. I’m not ready to say goodbye but you’ve already said it. You practically shouted it at me and I’ve been ignoring it and deflecting it in the hopes that you’d come around but now I find myself studded with the shrapnel that is all that’s left of those hopes.
I’m bleeding and still I want to turn to you for comfort. I don’t know how to turn that instinct off.
I love you. All you want is to wash your hands clean of this.
How do I turn off my love? How do I convince my wretched heart that I don’t want to love you anymore? How do I teach it not to hope? How do I remind it that we’re still picking out pieces from the last blast?
I don’t know.
I love you.
A friend posted the below questionnaire in their FB status this am. Normally I glance at these and move right along but I got stuck on this one and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know why.
I immediately answered all of the questions using my “relationship” with HG:
Who’s older? HG
Who was interested first? HG
Same high school? No
Most sensitive? Me
Worst temper? Dunno, I’m more demonstrative of temper for sure
Who’s the loudest? Me
More social? Me
Most stubborn? BOTH
Wakes up first? Depends
Bigger Family? Dunno
Cries the most? Me
Said I love you first? HG
Farted first? Me
Best driver? DEFINITELY Me
Hogs the remote? HG – I don’t even think I’ve been allowed to hold it
Best cook? Up for debate
Who spoils who the most? We spoil each other in different ways
Most spiritual? Dunno
Wisest? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Pleading the 5th
Most romantic? Both in different ways
Would you die for them? Not sure
I smiled, chuckled in places, and then – like the proverbial ton of bricks – it hit me that I don’t really have a relationship with HG anymore.
I love HG more than I want to admit. Even now, even after everything, my heart is happy thinking of HG. When I think of something funny that I know HG would appreciate, I store it away in my brain. I laugh to myself thinking of the conversations we’ll have when next we’re together… and then I remember that it’s unlikely we’ll ever be together again in that way.
This is grief. You think you’re past it, you’re blithely puttering along in life and something happens and for the briefest of beautiful moments you forget that anything is wrong, that things are broken and the most diligent kintsugi may not salvage them. That bright and shiny second before you remember that there’s a gaping chasm where your heart used to be, before the sucker punch realisation that leaves you doubled over and gasping.
Someone once told me that it takes about half as long as one was involved in a relationship to truly get over that relationship. I don’t even really know how long we were “involved” – when do I start the clock?? As such, I don’t know when this will hurt less… not that this formula is always applicable. I’m grasping at straws here but I feel a need for something I can cling to that puts some kind of end date on these feelings.
After this weekend’s events, I can’t really walk properly today (😏). Most of my soreness hit yesterday and is more or less resolved but my quads are still upset with me in a big way – in an “I need to brace myself to sit down on the toilet” way.
This sure was an active weekend and I have absolutely earned some soreness, some bruises on my chest, and some delightful fuzzy sleepiness… mmmmmmmmm.
But whatever did I do to my poor quads that they’re still so aggrieved?
- Maybe it was all the measuring folx for their raffle tickets? Tongue to toe and inseam measurements both required some solid kneeling time …
- Maybe it was being “forced” to my knees during my fantasy portrayal? Boot worship on a hard floor, while so satisfying, is a bit hard on the bod …
- Maybe it was rocking out while watching Debauchery last night? My heart was definitely pretending to be dancing right alongside all that fabulousness …
At least since I’m moving today and tomorrow, my quads (and the rest of me) will get some good movement in to loosen things up. Silver linings, right? 😉
The speech I had to give yesterday as part of my title run popped into my brain as soon as I saw the prompt of the day. I didn’t have a chance to post it yesterday, and I did deviate a bit last night, but here it is!
It’s amazing that I’m standing here tonight, seeing as I only admitted to myself that I was kinky six months ago.
Luckily, my kinky explorations almost immediately lead me to the leather community and I quickly realised that leather, not just kink, is where I belong. Leather not only creates a safe space to play but it’s built on a set of core values that align with my own passions.
Unlike other aspects of kinky subculture, leather is about more than fun kinky things – it’s history and tradition, it’s service and education, it’s connection and community, it’s respect, and it’s honour.
Even in my short time, I’ve experienced first-hand how the leather community and its resources can support us when we encounter the unfortunate obstacles and pitfalls all too common in this world.
When I think about The Next Generation of Leather – I think about how the economic climate is making it harder to maintain our public spaces, how people need an escape – meaning the burden on those who do the work is that much heavier. Each of us has to follow through → to make a conscious decision to show up actively, to be accountable to ourselves and each other, to educate and support everyone involved. Leather can’t thrive without the next generation and the next generation can’t take this on without real service and support from the current one.
I am here tonight because I have so much to give Leather and a strong vision of the community that I want to build. I hope you’ll allow me the privilege to serve as your Ms. Alameda County Leather 2017.