My old profile text.  It's been updated to something much shorter and sweeter.

 Could you be my artistic inspiration? I am a walking oxymoron. An artist. A chameleon that will change and shift to fit my surroundings, though in crowded settings that shift hides me near the wall. I am complex, yet very simple. A traditionalist, in many senses of the word. Life is about reveling in the simple pleasures, and enjoying what comes day to day.

 I currently work from home, freelancing digital art and graphic design. I do alright financially, though I'm not a millionaire or anything. My lifestyle is such that I have no desire to ever pursue an out-of-home career. 

If I had to choose between tact and honesty, I will choose honesty over tact in almost any situation. I hope you are the same way. I am monogamous by nature. If you're poly, we may make good friends but do not expect anything more than that. I no longer have sex with married or otherwise attached men. Sorry. 

My talents are diverse and plentiful. I'm good at a lot of things, but not really an expert at any one thing. You can ask me how to fix your computers, and I'll probably have the answer for you. I can sit down for a few hours and stand back up with a fantastic bit of artwork. I've been published in poetry anthologies more than once, even as a child, though lately my creativity has been limited to the magnetic crap on my fridge. Dancing to Lady Gaga alone in my living room makes me smile; doing the rumba with a skilled partner makes me smile even more. Cooking a gourmet meal out of empty cupboards and make it look like it came from a five-star restaurant is a feat I've accomplished more than once. 

Give me a controller (and explain which button does what) and I'll kick your ass on any of your new video games within a few tries. Hand me a fishing pole and I'll catch you a trout -- or an old beer can. Hand me a foam boffer sword and I might just show up your best friend in swordsmanship. Pass me a deck of cards and I'll shuffle once, shuffle twice, then make you play 52 Card Pickup for laughs. 

Trivia teams would likely love to have me, if I ever bothered to go out and find one to play with. 

 In the kink world: Some may think of me as a slave. Some may think of me as a Mistress. Some may see me as a comfortable fun-loving companion and friend. Right now, I have achieved an odd, precarious balance between these potentially conflicting sides of my psyche- but I have not quite found where I belong, even after a decade (oh my god, it's been 10 years as of April 2011? Holy crap.) actively practicing BDSM. With age comes wisdom, and I hope I discover enlightenment soon. My priorities and desires have been realigned, but an end goal has not yet come into focus. My journey is my own, and I fully intend to ride along with where the current takes me now rather than trying to paddle back upstream like I have so many times in the past. I seek acceptance and respect in whatever role I settle into when I finally fall from my tightrope to the world below. 

Yes, I am Gorean. Please do not judge me based on this unless you have gotten to know me first. Thank you. 

I tend to drop off into what many perceive as long, awkward silences... These are not something to fear. They're something I embrace and savor. Communication is important to me, but talking for the sake of talking is not. Leave the quiet spaces alone. They're not empty, they're peaceful. My fetish list has been more-or-less removed from my profile, because I feel that for a long-term relationship to work, it cannot be based solely on what I like to do in bed.

First off... hi. I'm Delora. I go by a multitude of nicknames such as "Dee" or "Dumbo" or "Dopey."

If you don't know where those last two come from, you either didn't have children or you were never a child yourself. Most anyone can call me Dee. Only my nearest and dearest can get away with calling me something else, like our favorite cartoon characters listed above. Nicknames are something that I prefer to only be used by those who are familiar to me. Close to me. Important to me. They show me that I am cared about, appreciated, thought of.

When someone who is little more than a casual acquaintance, or a stranger emailing me out of the blue in hopes of kindling a relationship with me calls me by those commonly used submissive nicknames such as 'girl,' 'slave,' 'slut,' 'lil one,' (etc etc etc) I get angry, offended even. When I was just starting out in the lifestyle, being called these nicknames by any man who considered himself a Dominant gave me a little thrill. These days? It makes me very upset unless it's someone who I'm close to, or am in the middle of scening with.

What do you think?
Do these pet names bother you as well, coming from someone you don't have a connection to? Or do you welcome them as a reminder of your chosen path through this lifestyle, as a slave or submissive or bottom? If they do bother you, how do you deal with it when someone uses that type of pet name in reference to you?

Dominants- Some questions for you as well. When do you find it appropriate to use those pet names? Do you use them with every submissive you talk to? Or do you reserve them for those you feel a connection to, or have some sort of relationship with?

I saw this "fetish" listed on someone's profile tonight over on and couldn't help but laugh until I nearly cried:

Learning to be one of those guys who does on-line kink and who wears a leather vest and reads a bunch of books on kink and has a screen name with Master in it

I also found (and bookmarked) a T-shirt that says "Before you can master me, try mastering the English language" in big, easy to read, capital letters. I plan on buying one sometime soon, once I have money again.

I personally would have a hard time submitting to someone who is not my intellectual equal or better. Same goes with level of experience, or willingness to learn.

Too many Dominants I have spoken with over the years I've been in the lifestyle have been very resistant to learning techniques from another. "I can crack a whip now, that means I can use it on you too." Wrong. "I have been a Master online now for 2 years, my wife is vanilla but understands I need more, so you should be my 24/7 slave." Wrong.

If I was to say "I am experienced with suspension" I would be lying. I've been suspended once. By an expert, sure. But only once, and it was years ago. I don't put on airs. If I haven't done something, I'll admit it. If I have the experience under my belt, I'll say so. If I want to try it, I will seek out someone with experience with whatever it is to teach me how it's properly done.

Why does the ego get in the way for so many others? How hard is it to say "I'd like to learn how to do this, can you show me/teach me how?"

Update: Walter has been found, and is safely home where he belongs.  It took two months to find him, but he was lured back by a neighbor with food.  :)

As anyone who reads my journal knows, I have had a rough go of it for the last month or so.  Things were starting to look up:  New apartment reserved and ready to move into at the beginning of October, and my back was starting to feel better.  There's even an insurance settlement on the way due to my car accident.

And then I got the most devestating news I could have possibly gotten.

The foster family in charge of taking care of my two beloved, spoiled cats called me tonight. They've lost Walter, the black and white kitty that's in one of the pictures here on my profile.

He's been gone for a week, and they can't find him. If anyone up in the Everett, WA spots my cat, please contact me immediately... he's microchipped and has a brown leather collar with silver studs on it. The collar has plenty of tags and information to bring him home safely.

I can’t really do anything except laugh, at this point. I’ve been a very strong disbeliever in the ‘all things happen for a reason’ statement for a long time. I believe that things happen, and people adapt to their situations and environments.

Yet, over the last few days, I have had a hard time shaking the feeling that the world is out to get me, or at least prevent me from doing the one thing I need to do the most: get a U-haul from Seattle to Tacoma, filled with my belongings. This was supposed to be done Thursday evening. I have just enough stuff to fill the smallest U-haul truck the company rents.

The hiccup in what seems to be a very easy thing to do: I have never learned how to drive a vehicle of any sort, and do not have my driver’s license.

So… Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

Thursday afternoon: A friend of mine has agreed to come help me load the U-haul and drive it down to Tacoma for me. He’s late. My stuff is ready to go, and I can’t even go and rent the U-haul until someone with a driver’s license shows up to take over for me. I call my friend a few times. No answer, no answer. Finally, once he does answer, he admits: “I was asleep.” No apology. He finally makes it up here, four hours later than when he promised, and we start loading the truck.

Thursday night: This friend of mine is tired. Still. After getting a nice long nap at my expense earlier. He informs me: “I can’t load anymore, and I certainly can’t drive your U-haul for you. Let me drive you down to your new place, you can crash there for the night.” I’m pissed, but I have no choice: I agree. Padlocking the U-haul to abandon it in a nearby parking lot, my friend gives me a ride down to my new house.

Friday morning/afternoon: After the Thursday night friend didn’t keep to his promises, I was loathe to call and ask him to help me again on Friday. Instead, I call another friend of mine, who is very prompt in agreeing to help. He sends a couple friends of his to pick me up from my new place, and we head off in their little car to go get my friend.

1:40pm. The little white car stops in the left turn lane, two blocks from my friend’s place in a different part of Tacoma. We’re waiting for the opportunity to turn and–

WHAM!

The car we’re in is rear-ended by a big red Cadillac. The guy in the Caddy didn’t hit the brakes- he hits us dead on at 40 miles an hour, shoving us out into the intersection a good 30 feet.

Both cars are totaled. Myself and the other people in the white car are taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. Our driver’s having knee pain. Myself and the other passenger? We’re strapped to backboards with support collars on.

The driver of the Caddy is arrested the moment emergency vehicles arrive. He’s got no insurance, a suspended license, and several outstanding warrants.

Friday night: I’m released from the hospital with whiplash, and am completely zonked out on pain medication. The U-haul is STILL up in Seattle. I finally cave in; I call my dad and one of the few friends who lived nearby who was still in one piece.

We head up to Seattle to get the U-haul. Finally. There’s still a few things to load into it, no big deal. A couple heavy boxes with books and dishes. Maybe another 15 minutes worth of loading, with two sets of extra hands.

The elevator in the apartment building is broken.

At this point, all I can do is just sit down and laugh and cry at the same time as my dad and my friend haul boxes down the stairs from the third floor.

We get completely finished (stuff to Tacoma, U-haul back to Seattle, myself back to Tacoma) around 3:00am.

I’m safe and sound, now… but this has seriously been a bad, bad few days. Good thing things don’t all happen for a reason, or my U-haul would probably STILL be up in Seattle.