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48yo tiny female trained as a visual artist. Can create in any media. Highly creative, sensuous, love to dance middle-eastern. Used to be a switch, but seem to be turning into a solid sub. Have never been officially involved in BDSM but have been living the lifestyle for years without knowing it. Would like, for once, to have a relationship with someone honorable.
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Oh great. I have asthma. I never had asthma before. But what else do you call an episode of respiratory distress featuring shortness of breath, wheezing, uncontrollable coughing, and a feeling like your lungs have been replaced by frozen concrete slabs? This has been creeping up on me for a while. It's easy to be in denial and blame lingering bronchitis or a six-week pneumonia recovery instead. But that doesn't account for periodically inflamed airways that clamp down upon mysterious triggers. Looks like it's time to start paying attention to the things that might curtail my athletic fun-having...
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*sigh* I am being pecked to death by ducks.
This is an open letter to all the rude baby doms out there who spam up my inbox:
1. I don't do online relationships. Without the nuance and subtlety of non-verbal communication, the entire point of the D/s relationship is nullified.
2. Your command of the English language suggests you have the mental faculties of an inbred goat. This lack of basic social skills does not engender respect.
3. All my bedroom toys, yea, even the shoes on my feet, are older than you are. In that light, how could I possibly have a serious relationship with you?
4. You are rude and demanding. That's not dominant, it's just plain rude.
Instead of responding to you each of you individually ad nauseum, I have only this to say to you en masse: the only thing I'm going to give you is a suggestion that you go pick on someone in your own league and leave the adults to their business.
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Does it always snow this much in western-central NY? I mean, I don't even drive to work and I still spend significant time every day digging the blasted car out of a snowplow-created grave. Why don't I just leave it until the snow melts? Because there's a rule here about what side of the street you can park your car on, and it's a $25 ticket at 6pm every day if you don't move the car. The driveway only holds one car - my landlord's, so I am relegated to dashing off the 6:15 bus and getting the car to the other side of the street stat. All this after getting up at 04:15 in order to walk the dog and get a shower in time to catch the 6am bus for work.
Did I mention I'm not a morning person? I don't even go to bed until 4 or 5am, and here I am getting UP in the middle of the night. My dog gives me that "Dude, are you out of your MIND?" look when I take him out at 4:30. The cats look at me like they're seriously considering having me committed to the loony bin for getting out of a perfectly warm bed. Then they steal my spot.
I can't wait until I qualify for night shift.
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Oh hallelujiah! I can breathe again! I have internet access and television after three deprived weeks. And it only took ten phone calls to Time-Warner to make it happen.
I believe I shall forgo studying for my new job tonight and spend the time blissed out in front of the TV.
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Zero Hour fast approaches. It's colder than snot outside and I have, no kidding, fifteen bags of garbage to haul to the curb tonight. It's going to snow on us while we load the truck on Friday. And probably while we unload it Saturday. I drank my last beer - Saranac Caramel Porter, my favorite, two days ago.
Without the help of friends who gently bubble-wrapped my mother's wedding china, and relatives who are driving 800 miles in one day to help me load and drive and unload, I couldn't do it. The phenomenal stress of starting a new job in a new career in a new location pales in comparison to all the minutae of ripping your life out of the ground and transporting it wholesale and still breathing to someplace you've only been to once overnight for an interview. And this economic climate isn't helping.
My little four-legged subs look to me for leadership, trusting me utterly to ensure that they are warm and fed and that I always have a free hand to touch them.
As of today, I'm living out of the microwave and a box of foodstuffs. There's a "first box" for the kitchen, with all the essentials for a couple of days eating. A "first box" for the bedroom as well, with, unfortunately, only work clothes in it, including socks and underwear, appropriate shoes, a watch, and a notebook and pen so I can take notes at my new job.
My first adventure in the new location will be to find a funky little coffee shop somewhere on the walk between home and work where I can become a regular. And then I'm going to go hunting for that Real Life I've been putting off for so long.
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I hate moving. All my favorite toys and pastimes are packed away. I'm in limbo for the next couple of weeks until I start my new job. It just breaks my heart to have to leave some things behind: lily-of-the-valley from the house where I grew up over 40 years ago, a chunk of the real French tarragon that I've been hauling all over the country and re-seeding in each new location, the thyme and oregano I use as ground cover that smells so sweet.
I know eventually I will have my own house again, and I can start nurturing the earth around it, but leaving my garden is like abandoning a pet!
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I've just uploaded a scan of the Nalbinding glove. It looks kind of baggy in the scan, but it fits like, well, a glove...
There are a couple of closeups in the scan to show the interlocking Oslo stitch, which is done with a tapestry needle and a length of wool yarn.
The great thing about nalbinding is that if you drop a stitch, it doesn't unravel. Each stitch is automatically locked in place. The bad part about nalbinding is that you can only work with a short length of yarn, so there are very many joins.
So far, I've had enough yarn to make the wrist and cuff base of the right glove too, and I'll just keep going till I run out of purple heathered wool. The fingers may have to be a different color on the right glove...
I bet I can make a great corset out of this stuff...
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Hmmm... and while I was wistfully packing away my corsets today, in the hopes that they won't have to stay packed in my new location for very long, I had the oddest thought: A good D/s relationship is like a corset.
Yeah, it sounds weird. let me explain.
A corset, when it fits, is a thing of strength and beauty. It supports the wearer and emphasizes her best attributes. A corset should be tight, training the body to the proper posture, but if it's too tight, it strangles the wearer. Far from being supportive, it suffocates, and eventually kills the wearer. There's nothing attractive about that.
So, like a corset, a good D/s relationship should be supportive, enhancing the sub so she shines for her Dom, and more importantly, for her own self-esteem.
Self-esteem is a big thing for me. Total ownership and slavery-without-limits doesn't equal self-esteem in my book, not yet, anyway. I have yet to meet a man who insists on it who isn't doing so out of some self-esteem issue of his own. A good Dom should be trying to bring out the best in his/her subs, not using subs as a prop for feelings of powerlessness in some other area of life. "Cuz I'm the Dom and I say so," doesn't cut it with me. You have to earn my respect and my submission. Submission is a gift, and a very powerful one when given by a strong sub who knows what she wants and will settle for nothing less.
In my line of work, I have to be a real take-charge kind of gal. Some of that bleeds over into my relationship needs. If a relationship is going to blossom past the D/s stage, I have to have certain freedoms, and my partner has to be emotionally secure enough to grant them. Simple things, like choosing my own work schedule, walking the dog when I feel like it, wearing what I choose most of the time, going to an SCA meeting or event if I want to, cleaning the bathroom the way I want to do it without someone hanging over my shoulder telling me how to clean my own house. I have a brain and a sharp intellect and I want the respect that goes with it.
That's probably why I'm still single.
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I've just uploaded a scan of a blackwork sleeve I've been working on, off and on, for years. It's beautiful. The simplicity of blackwork coloration disguises its immense complexity. If you do it right, the designs are completely reversible. If I could make a living producing beautiful things, I would.
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So I'm working on this great project: a pair of gloves in nalbinding, using the Oslo stitch. It's small and portable and complicated enough to keep me busy in the off hours while I'm packing. One glove is finished, and now in all the clutter I can't find the second damn ball of wool! What am I going to do with only one glove???
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I own way too much Stuff. I got rid of piles and piles of it and I still own too much. I hate packing. I hate clutter, and boxes, and not knowing where my favorite T-Shirt is under all that Stuff.
I have this dream, where I live in a real house, not a trailer, and I own it, and I have the same job and the same address for decades.
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Gracious! As one door closes, another one opens. Or rather, another few dozen open. All I had to do was look into the possibility of relocating and suddenly I have recruiters all over the country offering me jobs. All that remains is to choose where and let the HR directors fight it out. My, but isn't it grand to feel wanted! Too bad there isn't an eharmony option for this crowd.
Oh, and there's that whole packing-and-moving thing. I think there are some items I'll have to pack myself and label "playroom..."
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Ah, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Single again and wondering where honorable behavior has gone. Wiser, and warier.
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I've been getting a lot of mail from straight male doms who are interested in acquiring a sub/slave for total ownership. There's a couple of problems there. First, didn't I state in my profile that I'm very happy with my Master? Why would I want to change that? Second, I'm a switch. I don't do total ownership. On a spiritual level, I don't think it's possible. Head, Hands, Heart, and Spirit. You can own the first three, but you can never own a spirit, only break it. My spirit is strong. My submission is all the stronger when I freely lend my spirit to the relationship. Only then is growth possible. D/s isn't about breaking people, it's about building them up. Their spirits have to be intact for that to happen. I read in someone's signature on the boards that some people are submissive because they don't think they deserve any better, while others submit because they demand no less. I'm one of those who demands no less. My submission is a gift, particularly considering I'm a switch. It takes an extraordinary Master to get me to submit. So forgive me if I already found one, I'm not shopping around.
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| Age: 23 |
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California |
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