So, I'm sitting here thinking--and eating ColdStone Cakebatter Ice Cream--when I should be getting ready for work. And thinking for me usually ends badly.

I have a lot that I want to write and process through, but I don't know how well that would be appreciated so I shall focus down to one narrow field of a discussion...

A brat? Me?

Who am I kidding? Anyone who knows me in the vanilla would would even say Duh! I like to think of myself as rather well put together and well mannered, but most often, I'm not. I have a hard time dealing with emotions and feelings and processing them, let alone expressing them.

Not really something that was welcomed growing up. When asked why are you crying? and then told your reason is stupid or invalid, you learn quickly to just not think about it, you learn that you just sort of nod smile and follow whatever else the people around you are doing. If they're happy--you're happy. If not, fake it til ya make it! Yadda yadda...

So, getting off topic, what does this have to do with my inner brat? Apparently, someone made the assumption that I would be more of a, well I can't think of the word but basically, I wouldn't be so damn bratty when it came to my being a sub.

Sorry to disappoint. Emotions scare the fuck out of me, I don't handle them well. That's not to say I don't show amusement or I don't cry at the drop of a hat (though a lot of the time I don't know why.) But interpersonal emotions... Am I comfortable? Probably not. But that doesn't mean it's because I'm not enjoying myself, it's because I don't know how to respond--I don't know what is accepted or expected, I don't know what won't be tolerated. I sort of revert back to that bratty little child that drove their parents crazy--I poke, I bite... I giggle and spin in rolling chairs... I find ways to enjoy myself and be silly. It helps me feel more comfortable.

I enjoy being a cheeky little shit sometimes, like doing things to make people's faces flair bright red and sputter craziness until I'm giggling uncontrollably. I like to tease and be playful, to issue a challenge or a dare... Which usually comes at my own expense. I want someone who can step up to those challenges, can stare me down and quite honestly, be amused with my silliness all at the same time.

Though, I will say, I'm quite glad I found someone just as silly and quite frankly just as naughty as I am... I feel bad for everyone around us when our minds start to work together...

What're we going to do tonight Brain? The same thing we do every night Pinky. Try and take over the world!

So...

 

Firstly, allow me to point out this is not some attempt to gain sympathy. I know how it's going to come across, but it is not intended that way. Rather, I think that in the last several years I have gained a new understanding of my past and how it has affected me. Or at least how I feel it has affected me. However, I am rather bias, aren't I?

I had a rather interesting conversation last night. I didn't feel like I was in a competition, I didn't feel like I was being judged or expected to feel one way or another. Instead, it was simply an exchange... It felt rather good.

I know everyone has their baggage, and people who claim otherwise are either blatantly lying or in downright denial. We all have it, just to varying degrees. I've found that, in a way I've sort of detached myself from mine, emotionally. I can talk about it as if discussing the weather. It's nothing terrible, not like so many people in this world.

 

My mother and I have a pretty decent relationship now, but it wasn't always the case. The things I remember, my earliest memories are all scattered and a jumble. My mom raised me on her own, trying to juggle her own needs with mine.

I know now how hard it must have been for her. My father and she split not long after I was born. And she finally came to realize she leaned more towards the female persuasion. So, needless to say, raising a child and sending her to a Catholic School was not exactly easy. I spent a lot of time with my grandmothers as a child because of her work schedule. I didn't mind, I enjoyed it. I had family close by and other children.

However, I can't remember exactly when it happened, as in how old I was, my grandmother had her heart attack and shortly after lost her leg. She often joked she hit 50 and fell apart. She had been taking care of my Great Grandmother who'd suffered multiple strokes. After this happened, I became the primary care giver. I was a personal assistant, home health aide and much more, when I should have been going out with friends and having fun... Being a kid, learning what it was like to be around people.

 

Instead I spent majority of my time surrounded by a very small and tight knit group of individuals.

 

My days were tightly monitored, school then homework then helping with what needed done. If I did get to go play with the neighborhood kids I was home by street lights.

 

Most of the kids in the neighborhood were several years younger than me. I enjoyed going places with my grandmothers, like bingo or card games. I often associated better with adults than kids my own age.

I'd intended to sit and think about various things in my life that lead me to where I am, but it really boils down to this: I never got to be a kid. Not really. I got to have the responsibility of having others dependent upon me for their well being and it was not of my choosing. Yes, I enjoy taking care of others it makes me feel loved and needed, but I don't enjoy the responsibility of it. I know that sounds weird, it's hard to explain.

 

Because I know that came out wrong. I just can't think of a better way to explain it, really.

 

I've always had someone to tell me what to do in some part of my life and then suddenly, when my grandmothers both died... I had something different. I had my mother to care for. It wasn't the same as my grandmothers. Yes I cared for them and did things they needed, but they cared for me too. They loved me and took care of me. My mother was like suddenly having a teenager to take care of. It's weird, she was the adult but she didn't act like it. Rules were not set and enforced it was a chaotic roller coaster that spun and twisted however she wanted whenever she wanted. There was no stability. There was only fear. Fear of punishment, of doing something wrong and never knowing what it was. Fear that her anger towards someone else would be sent my way.

With my grandmothers, I knew what was expected. I was to be seen and not heard, prim and proper and pleasant as pie. I would do as I was told and not talk back. As long as I did that, no problem. Though, that's not to say I didn't get my ass lit up quite often. My mouth and I have a long standing habit of saying things best left unsaid.

With my mom, I was never good enough. Always compared to someone else, always blamed for someone else... I know she loved me, she does love me. She didn't know how to express it then. She's working on it now.

My first tattoo, Your sins into me / Oh, my beautiful one, was for my grandmother. I remember my mother grabbing me by the shirt after work, pulling me down a flight of stairs and sobbing uncontrollably as she flew off the handle. When I finally made it to my room, sore and exhausted, AFI was on tv, a live concert and when I listened, it made me think of Mummo (my grandmother.)

I found that tattoos could be as much of a release as cutting. I found that I enjoyed the sting and burn and had something beautiful to show in the end.

I make no excuses, nor suffer illusions of who I am and what I've been though. Sometimes I feel as if I've never lived a day in my life, while simultaneously feeling as if I've survived a life time.

All my memories, all my baggage, if you will, may be trivial to some or not worth carrying to others, but it's mine. It's helped to shape me onto the woman I am today, the girl I'm learning to love and embrace.

So, who am I? I'm still figuring that out, and if I do it right, I'll always manage to discover something new. I'm a young woman with the cynicism of years and the childlike outlook of youth. I'm a hard working, quick to procrastinate girl. I'm a sweet and sassy, and loud and timid child coming into her own. I'm a woman, a bratty child, a submissive, a bitch, a playful kitten... I am who I was meant to be. And that is okay. I am loved and I love in return. I am ever evolving...

I've been asked several times--What kinky/bdsm experience do you have?

Honestly? None.

It's why I'm here, and we all have to start somewhere. Right? I still have a hard time admitting to myself that the average vanilla relationship dynamic doesn't work for me. That your standard vanilla sex doesn't get me all hot and bothered. Admitting that to myself, let alone to someone else is enough to make me want to shrink into a ball and hide in a corner.

And to top it off, I've had limited experience sexually, even by vanilla standards. I have only been in one relationship and the obligatory stupidity of a one night stand. But here's the thing--I've had enough experience to know that it didn't do it for me. The guy I dated ended up being a rather sissy bottom in the bedroom and wanted me to control just about everything. And all I had wanted was for him to take control. Obviously that did not last very long. The other guy I had been with was ... It wasn't so much that it wasn't enjoyable, as it was boring. It's sort of a hard thing for me to explain why but it was too... soft. I guess. I wanted them to take control, to be dominated, to submit. It was too much of a damn guessing game. I spent more time worrying about what I should or shouldn't be doing, what a guy would expect me to do... that I couldn't even really enjoy it.

It was such an awkward thing for me that, while I'd gone on dates with people in the past--I never really saw the appeal to take it farther without more of a connection because if I was going to be that uncomfortable and miserable about something, I wanted there to be something enjoyable to look forward to.

And it's not something that's easy for me to talk about. I feel like I'm 27, and I've barely lived or experienced anything at all, really. It's a depressing thought. Part of it is because I've spent my life afraid to say what I want, let alone to be okay with wanting it. I want a man who can take control of me, who can make me submit--because I want to do that. But not just for anyone. I want to make someone else happy, I need to.

Sometimes I feel so emotionally and sexually repressed, I want to scream. I want to just say to hell with it and do what I want. Then the guilt... That's not what a proper lady should do, you'll go to hell for such things, no one wants to be with a slut, etc...

Relationships were not something that we discussed in my family growing up. The extent of it was: You don't need to date until after you're finished with college.

Hell, I learned about sex from the internet and friends, my mom was in her own little bubble thinking if she didn't tell me about things, that I'd never know. And the overall hatred/hostility she and my grandmother harbored towards the opposite sex really didn't help. Men are useless, they only want one thing from you, never depend on a man...

I've seen plenty of men in my time who fit the bill for what my grandmother and my mother preached, but I've also seen the other side of it. I've seen Delilaah's father, who is a wonderful loving husband and father. He's accepted me into their family and cares for me like I am his own. He is also not above chewing me out when I'm a brat or do something stupid either. I get the good and the bad. I've seen Mimi's boyfriend who treats her like a princess and makes her so happy it hurts to look at.

Then I look at myself and think, why do I think I deserve something like that? I'm not beautiful and outgoing, I'm not the perfect daughter, I'm not the perfect anything. I make mistakes. A lot of them. And I feel like what I want is more than I deserve.

I know that, consciously, I shouldn't feel like that. That I should feel like I deserve better than what I more often than not settle for in life. I know that I have a lot of personal baggage and I accept that, but I am sick of it weighing me down. I want to be that confident, beautiful woman that my friends claim they see when they look at me. I want to be some something special to someone. To know that I'm needed, that I can make someone happy.

I want to be able to be myself and have someone appreciate that. To find my flaws endearing instead of annoying. To find someone who will know how hard it is for me to submit and will treasure that submission even more because of it. To find the things that make me uniquely me, attractive and desirable. Just as I want to find that in someone else.

This turned into a god awful rant of depressive proportions...Sorry to anyone who's night I ruined.

What is it that you want in a partner? What influences this choice, what shapes our wants and desires?
It's a rather complex compilation I would think. Or it could just be as simple as this is what I want... Shrugs.
I've found myself examining what I want from a relationship dynamic, how I want it to work. But what kind of person do I see this with? What type of partner do I want?
I want a man. Not a pretty boy. It's hard to describe exactly. My definition of this of course, will vary from someone else's. In essence, I've thought about traits and interests that make someone attractive to me and feel like maybe I need to write it down somewhere that I can look back later and wonder if this truly is what I want, and if so, why do I feel compelled to settle for less than that?
This is rather awkward and somewhat embarrassing for me to state because to some extent I feel as if what I want is more than I deserve.
My ideal partner, of the male variety anyhow, is most definitely dominant in nature. Physically and mentally. A guy who appears weak or timid is not appealing, I enjoy the thought of looking at a man, knowing he could throw me over his shoulder or bend me over his knee with little effort.
I think part of that desire is tied with my love of Photography. I o and life situations in the sense of what would make an appealing image in film.
Though, I'm not saying I want a body builder. Heh. I want a guy that I can imagine gripping my wrists and pulling my hair, making me shiver and want to submit to him all that much more. But one that isn't afraid to stick his head under the hood of a car and end up covered in grease. Or to use his hands and fix a few things around the house.
I don't want a man who takes more time to get ready than I do.
A brain is a huge turn on. A nerdy brain is even better. I like being able to debate and argue-even when I don't win-and learn something in the process. I want someone who enjoys sharing knowledge not showing it off and flaunting it.
It's not as specific once I type it out as it seems in my head, but it's things that make a man, a man. To me at least.
Delilaah basically sums it up as she wants a man who can take her out in a fancy gown, and I want a man who can take me to the country. It makes sense I guess.
Does someone like this exist? Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps I may find this in more than one person--who says it has to all be contained within a single individual?

I feel like I've just vomited my thoughts onto this page with no real thought or organization. Maybe I'll reexamine this at another time, better formulate it.

However, on a random note of sharing...
A few songs that are rather sexy as of late and inspire dirty dirty thoughts and images:
In This Moment-Blood and Whore*
Florence and the Machine-Only if for a Night and Bedroom Hymns*
ZZ Ward-Move Like You Stole It and Charlie Ain't Home*
The Cab-Animal*
Christian Kane-Rattlesnake Smile*
AFI-Silver and Cold*

Yep, those definitely do it.

Well then...

Where to start? How about the basics? I attended my first munch yesterday. And I must say that I am rather proud of myself. Delilaah had to keep guilting me into going and practically yelling at me. It's why I adore her--best sister ever.

Of course I had my usual freak out--Holy shit, why am I here? I don't belong here. No one is gonna want to talk to me... What was I thinking? And on and on. I spent a good portion of the first hour clutching my phone like a life preserver, having Delilaah baby me along and use that damned logic I hate her for. She knows me far too well.

N_D was probably the best hostess I could have asked to have at my first munch. A hugger! That always makes me feel more comfortable. Don't ask me why. But yeah... She was wonderful. I sat and talked with her and husband, which ended up making me relax quite a bit. I feel really bad, because I forgot half the names of people that I did meet. Tends to happen when you're still having a mini anxiety attack! But, none the less it was time well spent.

I also realized something while I was sitting there. The more nervous I got, the more I touched myself--not like that you pervs, so don't go there--like, I had to touch my leg, rub over my ankle or my wrist... I never realized how much skin-to-skin contact seems like a bit of a safety blanket for me, nor did I realize I did it until I noticed someone looking. It makes sense though, when I go places with friends, I feel the need to practically sit in their lap, cling to their arm, lay my head on their shoulder.

It was nice though, once I settled my ass down, to talk with some people and to not feel like everything that I said was being dismissed, or scoffed at, or just plain ignored or judged.

So, on to the actual discussion portion of the evening: BDSM vs. The Vanilla. Pretty much cemented what I've known and felt for a long time. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, almost made it more real. What I want in a relationship, exists here in this world. It's open, it's honest, it's what I need. Obviously, I'm still working on figuring out the specifics of those exact needs, but I know that I need more than what the vanilla has to offer me. I need someone who isn't going to view my need to make others happy, to do things for them, as a weakness or a flaw. Or look at me in revulsion because of the things I need in life to be completely happy. And, hey, maybe I won't find everything I need in one solitary person. Here, I won't be judged.

Mind you, I have decades of Catholic guilt to undo--but I'm working on it.

One thing that I've found, at least here, even when it comes to making friends, my anxiety, depression, ADHD or any other problems that I have, don't make me an outcast. Just a little quirkier. Which is refreshing. I don't feel like I have to hide the fact that I have some issues, but that I need to face and own them. That others aren't appalled by them and dismiss me immediately because of them. If anything, they have understood and helped make me feel better about it.

I'll probably go into this more after work, I wanted to do this last night but I had so many thoughts racing through my mind, I felt like I needed to take time to think. And I still do have a lot of thinking to do...

I had a conversation with someone the other day. I often make jokes about being raised Catholic and having attended a Catholic school, however the person I was speaking with commented on how Catholic girls seem to be predisposed to the submissive mentality.

I immediately went on the defensive, huffing and about toe spew arguments, until I stopped to think.

Were they right?

Don't misunderstand, I am in no way a practicing Catholic--have not been for over a decade really. Hell, I'm not quite sure I even believe in God, per say. (I believe in something, just not sure what some days.) However, the initial bristling in response sometimes occurs.

Upon much thinking, I believe the point made was quite valid really. Catholics are raised to believe that men hold a higher level of power and stature in within the community. Priests are are the head of the church, no female is in a position of power within the Catholic church--ever.

Women are taught that men are supreme.

Which, really, is quite amusing seeing as to how I was raised outside of school and church. My father was no where in the picture most of my life and I was raised by my grandmother, great-grandmother and mother.

The women of the family ran things, they didn't take shit from anyone and it was ingrained in my head that I did not need a man--for anything. Women were just as capable as any male.

Which, seeing as how most of the men in our family were lazy drunk asshats (a few exceptions to the rule, of course, did exist,) made a lot of sense.

I learned early on that:

• you respect your elders
• children (mainly me,) were to be seen and not heard
• you do what you're told, when you're told

All of which was to be done without back talk/sass or you got your ass whooped. Hard.

I was often finding it rather difficult to sit down--still haven't mastered that brain to mouth filter thing.

So, I guess, when I stop to think about these things, it's no wonder that I have had such a hard time coming to grips with what I want in life and in relationships.

And thinking about it now is really making my head hurt. Knowing that I want a man to be in control, plays hell with the lessons learned long ago.

Ugh...

 

 

 

Now, for those of you who may end up with your panties in a bunch:  don't.  I am not in any way placing a blanket view on all things Catholic, nor am I placing a view on all who identify as such.  I am merely discussing my own personal experience having attended/grown up in the Catholic church.

3:22 am Ramblings

 

This whole waking up at 1 in the morning and not being able to go back to sleep is beginning to grow quite tiresome. I'm hoping it's because I've been working partial midnight shifts recently and not because of my ADHD. Who knows... Probably a combination of both.

I've had a lot on my mind lately and I think between that and my body's routine being messed with, I don't know what's going on. And poor Warhol? He's so confused, the poor puppy.

I'm sitting here in the dark, layers of blankets wrapped around me like a freaking cocoon and staring mindlessly at the TV. I couldn't muster up the energy to watch anything new, so here I sit with Secretary, playing in the background. I was going to watch The Avengers, but it seemed too fast paced for this time of morning.

I'm just glad I don't have to be up for work in two hours so it doesn't matter that I can't sleep.

The downside to being awake at this hour? Well, besides the obvious, is that I have no means to distract my mind. It keeps veering off on tangents and sticking on loops of thoughts until I feel like I'm about to scream. So, I figured, hey, why not let my fingers do the looping and maybe my brain will shut the hell down.

I'm a little doubtful of that, but why not try really.

I was talking with a friend the other day, telling her about the shoot I had planned with Mimi and suggested she join us on the day. We're both really geeked about the idea and looking forward to it. The fact that she wants to do photos for the same reasons as I do, will probably always confuse me. I think, sometimes, I get so wrapped up in what I see and think about myself, that I often forget that it's not just me. It's not just plus size girls. She is this petite, gorgeous little thing with a beautiful smile and stunning eyes and every time she tells me how unattractive she feels I just want to smack something. I know that there are a lot of contributing factors to why she feels the way she does, and I hate that it all happened to her, but when I look at her, all I see is a beautiful woman. Which, I guess is the twisted humor of the universe. When I said that to her, she throws it right back in my face that it's the same only in reverse.

It's amazing how messed up most women can be when it comes to self image. While it's easy to say its all the result of media and social norms, the older I get, the more that sounds like an excuse or a cop-out. Though, it's not really, it's a fact. The excuse is every missed opportunity to change that fact. The cop out is just accepting that that's how you view yourself and let it define you.

I'm not saying it's an easy thing to change, it's rather Pavlovian in a way. From a young age, many women are trained to see a tall, slender woman and think beautiful. While looking at roundness, at curves is the equivalent to ugliness. I wish I could believe this would change in my life time, though I doubt it will.

I'd rather be sleeping than thinking of these things.

Alas, that's not happening any time soon, I'm sure.

A funny thought, how often times you hear girls date guys like their father. My mother is a lesbian, I didn't know my father--so does that mean I want to date a man like my mother?

Snort.

I hope not.

Though, sitting here, snuggled up with my puppy makes me realize that I'm tired of being on my own. I've been doing it for far too long. I took care of my grandmothers until they both passed away, and to an extent my mother after that--but that is a story best left for another time. I've been working full time and determined to take care of myself, to prove that I can do it--that I don't need someone to take care of me. That I can make my own decisions.

It's exhausting. Always feeling like I have to stand on my own two feet, not having someone to lean against when I get tired, when all I want to do is curl into a ball and cry. It's draining to make every last decision about every little detail in life. To slap away hands that offer to help you when you fall on your ass because, in your mind, to take that hand is a sign of weakness.

Maybe I want to be weak--maybe I'm tired of being strong all the time.

Maybe tomorrow that will change.

Maybe it won't.

So many decisions to make all the time. I really hate open ended boxes--give me multiple choice. Or better yet, just give me a set of rules to follow. I'm not saying I won't try to tweak them, but I'd feel better.

I may be on my own, I may be able to support myself and do what I need to, but I know there's something missing. I crave structure, but I despise stale routine. A walking contradiction. I hate being told what to do, but I love knowing what's expected of me--I need it. It's a release of sorts, a means to let my mind shut itself down and just be.

I've had a lot go on in the past few months with my friends and family. And it got me to thinking, the ones that I have--the ones that are the nearest and dearest to my heart? They're the ones that push me. The ones that when I shove them, they shove back. They realize my bark is far worse than my bite, that I'm scared and it's how I deal. They love me. Even when I don't love myself. And it helps.

I just wish they all lived closer.

Sometimes I just want to crawl in someones lap and be held. Or just sit close with out talking, just know that they're they're. Or sit and snark back and forth until we're in a fit of laughter that makes my sides hurt.

Sometimes I don't want to be strong and capable.

And right now, all I want to do is sleep.

But...

"We don't every time get what we want."

I just got to spend the past few hours with my lovely Mimi and had a great discussion!

I'm really kind of nervous but at the same time, I'm super excited. I don't feel very comfortable in front of the camera, but I'm going to do this. Yep, even if it kills me.

Once we both tackle our schedule and I finish collecting the proper attire, I'm going to have Mimi photograph me. I figure it's only appropriate that she is the one to do it, seeing as she let me talk her into being my model when she never wanted to be in front of the lens herself. I've shot her in so many different concepts and ways, that it would seem so...wrong for anyone else to do these for me.

I can't do it because I know the photographs will never see the light of day.

We didn't go into too much detail, merely agreed upon the arrangement, and then I'm going to shoot her again--just because.

She is the only person in my life, other than Syn, that I know will never judge me. She can see something inside of me, that apparently I can't. What better way to find out what that is than to have her capture it on film?

Like I said, I'm excited, and really nervous. Alcohol will probably be required. Scratch that, it will be mandatory.

Hah!

Seriously though, I think this will be good for me. To look at myself through someone else's eyes and, in a way, be forced to do so.

Hopefully, this month we'll get to do them. However, we're not sure of our schedules! Ah!

First, let me start by saying: do not try this at home ladies!

What you'll need:
*1 15-20 lb s-medium sized dog, in dire need of a potty break
*1 adjustable baby gate
*1 basket full of laundry
*1 flight of carpeted stairs
*1 awkward and clumsy blonde

Proceed as follows:

*Arrive home from a quick shopping trip.
*Gather laundry to finish inside basket.
*Release puppy from crate.
*Attempt to carry puppy in said laundry basket to save yourself multiple trips.
*Slide off of step when trying to go over the baby gate.

If you do this properly you will find yourself straddling the baby gate on the stairs, your poor vagina and ass will be in rather large amounts of pain. As will your back. Not to mention, your dog and your cats will probably be laughing at you.

 

Serves me right I guess. Ugh, I'm telling you, I've never been so grateful not to have a dick in my life. ...It would probably be permanently bent.

 

Now, to find an ice pack for my lady bits. Le Sigh...