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Wednesday, December 17, 2003 ( 8:10 AM ) D W opinion I haven't been very sexual lately. For me, that doesn't mean much. I'm still getting myself off at least once a day and thinking about sex frequently. If I had a partner, I'd be having sex whenever he felt like it, but probably not initiating more than once or twice a week. Since I don't, the hassles of meeting up with a playmate or finding someone new seem like too much trouble, so I'm unintentionally, temporarily celibate. I've been thinking a lot about what I will change and what I'll keep the same when I move my blog. While it's an opportunity for rebirth, I don't want to shuffle things just for the sake of doing so. You can expect the layout to be much the same as now. I toyed with the idea of going to three columns, but I'd rather have the focus be on the posts and force myself to prioritize the items in the side panel. The title will be work safe and the color scheme a bit less blatant. As far as content, I'll be seizing the opportunity to share favorite photos and music files with you -- things I can't or shouldn't do on BlogSpot. I'll still share stories of my exploits and opinions on sexual topics, but I won't obsess about being a sex blog. Not that I have been lately! I see it as my blog, about my life, which incidentally happens to have a focus on sex and relationships much of the time. I have a pile of books about sexual politics and practices, as well as a bunch of already half-written essays, to provide material for future posts. And of course, you'll continue to hear about Brian, Dante, and the rest of the cast as their tales unfold. Besides the URL, title, and appearance, another rebirth will be my nom de plume. Many of you were uncomfortable with my name or didn't know what to call me. While I enjoyed provoking some of that discomfort, for reasons I explained months ago, it's time to move on. So, maybe in January... I have my fingers crossed and can hardly wait. # Tuesday, December 16, 2003 ( 8:51 PM ) D W opinion I've gotten sentimental about the fantastic people who read this site before, so I'll simply say this: you are wonderful. Thank you for the many kind letters of support, advice, and understanding. What you shouldn't do is worry about me. I'm getting by the same as I always do, I just happen to be going through a stressful phase with a reduced support system. Dante is away, Brian is tied up with some complex business transations, many of my friends are in the same situation I am, and my family is not a supportive option. Here are some deals I'm making with myself to get by: - Christmas cards will be delayed. I promised them, and I will do my best to get to them this weekend, but if I don't, I don't. If your card arrives in January, it will be sent with the same affection as when I originally started writing it weeks ago. Please forgive me for the delay -- if things had not gotten so complicated, and if I wasn't afraid to take my Ritalin more frequently, I'd be on schedule. - My portfolio site is under construction. I revised my CV recently, but today I started redesigning my personal web site to include work from the past couple years. While I still don't expect to hunt for a job outside my company until the summer, it will give me peace of mind to know that I'm ready. - I'm shaving one day off of the annual holiday visit to my parents. If I don't, I'll be frazzled and insane with gift buying, wrapping, and last minute details like having my mail held at the post office. I made some excuses to travel later and made hair and manicure appointments for that day instead. Over the years I've handled some very difficult things on my own: multiple rapes, a near fatal illness, a partner's suicide attempt, being left homeless and jobless by a spineless boyfriend, the death of a man I loved, financial devastation, buying and selling homes, changing jobs, abusive relationships, surgeries, broken bones, and health scares. In comparison, what I'm going through now isn't overwhelming, but I have to cut myself some slack and stop trying to be everything to everybody for a while. What I will still do is post here when I can, holiday travel permitting. It seems my writing helps and amuses a lot of people, myself included, and I'm not about to give that up. # Monday, December 15, 2003 ( 9:46 PM ) D W opinion Fasten your seatbelts.... A while back Brian asked me how I could stand to live alone all these years. "What do you do when you just want to talk to someone else?" "I don't." "You never want to talk to someone else?" "No, I just don't talk." The world is not made for someone who would rather hold everything inside than impose on a friend to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on. It's not made for people like me, not at all. On days like this when the frustration and rage and exhaustion and loneliness build up, and there is no outlet, what am I supposed to do? I long for an addiction. Why can't I drown my sorrows in a bottle of bourbon or a handful of pills like normal people? Instead -- I think, therefore I blog. I don't know how I will find solace tonight. Meditation is out of the question. Masturbation holds no appeal. All I crave is for someone to listen to me vent for ten short minutes, then curl around me and hold me tight. I need to cry in someone's strong arms. I need to see the anger and despair radiate from my skin and be absorbed by someone who they can't harm, and who will feel even more powerful for having been there. Instead, I'll put in a mind-numbing video game and let the patterns fill my brain until I am barely awake, then I'll fall into bed for another night of shockingly vivid dreams that linger with me, feeling like memories, for days. Next week I'm on vacation. I may just tell my boss I can't take anymore and take off a couple days this week, too. If it wasn't for financial obligations that require me to stay at my company for a few more months, I'd be talking to a headhunter tomorrow. I don't dig ditches, wait tables in a diner, or make telemarketing calls for a living, I know my situation isn't that bad, but when the thought of going to the office makes me physically ill and takes me to the verge of tears, it can't be healthy, can it? When every day offers a new horizon of betrayal and disappointment and my best efforts move me no further forward than the treadmill at the gym, how can I learn to choke it down and just get by? I know that the trick is to stop caring, to go numb and plod through the days with a shuffle and a smile and a "Yes Sir!" for the ignoramuses (ignorami? ignoramerati?) above me. Maybe I can press the reset button and find a way to do that over Christmas. I don't know. But something has to change, or something is going to break, and I'm starting to realize that the "something" in either case is me. No post in the morning -- I have to go to work early. And if anyone has seen my soul, hopes, and dreams, could you send them back my way? I'm feeling a little lost without them. # ( 7:44 AM ) D W opinion A letter I received over the weekend inspired me to post something I've been holding back for a while. It's something I've mentioned quickly to Brian, but I'm waiting until we're face-to-face to ensure he understands all of the ramifications. You see, I have PCOS, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It's not that unusual, between 6-10% of American women are suspected of having the condition. The lovely symptoms include (plucked from the site linked above): - Irregular or absent menses - Numerous cysts on the ovaries in many, but not all, cases - High blood pressure - Acne - Elevated insulin levels, Insulin Resistance, or Diabetes - Infertility - Excess hair on the face and body - Thinning of the scalp hair (alopecia) - Weight Problems or obesity that is centered around your mid section I was diagnosed in my mid-20s when I began having menstrual irregularities, a considerable understatement, as I once bled every single day for more than a year and then my period stopped for months at a time. Birth control pills got me back on schedule and I've been pretty steady since I stopped those in 2001. I don't have acne or insulin problems, but I moderate my intake of simple sugars and stay away from high carb diets to keep it that way. My weight is a constant fight -- it seems I gain a couple pounds from merely smelling food. I'm on blood pressure medication (especially needed now that ADHD meds raise my BP) and have had numerous sonograms to check the cysts on my left ovary. The remaining symptoms upset me on a daily basis. I'm not losing hair yet, but my mother and grandmother, both of whom have PCOS, have hair that started thinning in their mid-50s. My hope is that mine, which is fine, straight, and densely packed in contrast to their thick, wavy tresses, will hide the effects better or that Rogaine might make a difference at that point. The "excess hair on face and body" symptom has turned me into a tweezer junkie. How unsexy is this? On any given day, I may discover a long, dark hair that has sprouted seemingly overnight on my breasts or back, anywhere between my shoulders and my waist, and I have to diligently pluck to keep from growing a goatee. I avoid massages out of fear that the masseuse will find a surprise strand I didn't see or couldn't reach. My natural body hair is sparse and light brown and my skin is very fair, so these interlopers are obvious and distressing. And then there's the infertility. There were years where the thought that I couldn't conceive made me very happy. Now, especially when I'm falling for a man who wants more children, I'm worried and scared. Last year I asked my OB/GYN to check that I was ovulating, because I no longer noticed any signs that I was. Everything tested in the normal range, I was ovulating on schedule, and she doesn't see any reason why I couldn't bear children. We've already discussed the options if I try and can't: fertility drugs, ovarian wedging, IVF. I try to look on the positive side: clearly my mother and grandmother overcame their PCOS to have kids. But the reality is, my grandmother had three children spread over eighteen years and it took my parents fifteen years to have two of us. So, here I am at age 33. Tick tock tick tock tick tock. When I first told Brian about my PCOS, I asked hypothetically if he would consider adoption if, for some reason, his wife couldn't have children. He scoffed and didn't answer. Since then, I've learned that he enjoys the pregnancy and birth phases and that he overtly does what most of us do subconsciously: selects his potential mates by their suitability to parent his offspring. Not in some scary Aryan breeding program sort of way; he simply chooses tall, intelligent, attractive women who may pass on those traits to children and who have "wide childbearing hips". I delight in logical choices, so that practicality is charming to me. Books and movies have done the sadness and stress of infertility story to death, but it's one of my greatest fears that I'll turn out to be one of those women, having my husband inject fertility drugs, planning sex days in advance, and obsessing about everything from whether I should cut out ginseng to if he should switch to boxers. And like Charlotte on Sex and the City, I'll have to have a talk with Brian if things get serious, to be sure he can cope with the concept that bearing children together may be difficult or impossible. I'll cope with whatever eventuality drops into my lap, but how I wish this wasn't one of the burdens I was given. I have a co-worker who gets pregnant the way some people catch colds; can't I trade with her for a few years? # Sunday, December 14, 2003 ( 12:41 PM ) D W opinion Speaking with Brian this weekend, I was again pleased to see how similar our views are. He’s slightly more politically conservative than I am, but only to an extent that makes me ask for proof of some of his more radical viewpoints, not a level where I recoil in horror. His experience in raising children aligns 100% with my parenting philosophy. We both want the same things out of life, and where our interests diverge – I have more literary and cultural interests, he is more athletic – we complement and can teach each other. Brian didn’t mention my letter about D/s. I’m not sure how to interpret that; my guess is that there were simply other things at the top of our minds and it didn’t come up. I would suppose that if his reaction were overwhelmingly negative, he would have said something. Instead, our conversation touched several times on the idea of him moving here eventually. There are a few of you who scold me for not telling him everything. Personally, I don’t understand why our generation feels the need to disclose every last detail. Before us, people were much more pragmatic: my great-uncle didn’t know that his wife was 4 years older than him until she died, in her 90s, and it never caused him any harm. I have now let Brian know that there are sexual and D/s parts of me. Not only did I identify the doors behind which that information lurks, I pushed them ajar for him. He has not yet chosen to slip inside and take a look. Frankly, if we are compatible on so many other levels, I think I should bite my tongue and consider that I’ve told him enough. He and I have similar goals, dreams, financial strategies, political and religious beliefs, world views, and tastes in design, food, and movies. Though we’re from opposite sides of the globe, our ancestry is from the same area of Europe and we share those traditions. I think he’s handsome, he thinks I’m beautiful. Those similarities give us a pretty good base to build upon. If he’s a good kisser, I’m keeping him. # Saturday, December 13, 2003 ( 8:56 AM ) D W opinion I think that about 70% of you understand me to a surprising degree. The other 30% include horny people who cruise here just for the true stories in my archives (good for them!) and people who come to the page with pre-existing prejudices against my attitudes or behaviors. Most of those are still good-hearted people who sometimes write me curious or concerned letters. Less than 1% of my mail is the hateful vomit of some small-minded twit. Considering what I write and how I open myself up, I know I can't complain about that percentage. Day after day in my work life I get the emotional equivalent of being kicked in the head. I spend Monday through Friday with alpha males screaming at me, manipulative weasels undermining me, clueless executives assigning me useless, redundant, tedious tasks, and demoralized staff whining to me about every insult and hurdle. Where I once was concerned that I'd never be able to break through the glass ceiling, now I cannot foresee a career path ahead of me from one month to the next because of the constant chaos. Though I am a resilient woman, that takes a toll. I willingly trade off my dignity and my peace of mind for a nice salary and a steady paycheck right now, hoping that in a couple more years I can either switch careers or take some time away from the rat race. I developed coping mechanisms for that sort of environment when I was a child. So, I find escapes where I can be appreciated for who I am -- in a few close friendships, sex, blogging, or simply spending time alone. One way or another, balance is achieved. I sometimes sneak over to my DWD mailbox in the middle of a stressful workday, hoping to find a note that will restore my spirit. The problem, of course, is when I'm having the king of all bad days and waiting in my mailbox is the brainspew of some jackass. Meaningless cruelty makes no sense to me. The idea of writing a hateful letter to someone who has done you no wrong is so far from the way my brain works that I can't imagine the insecurities and pent-up rage of someone who must take that outlet. When I'm feeling most angry and frustrated, I make things better by surprising someone else with kindness. Believe me, that's far more productive. Now, I'm taking the day off. No Internet. No phone. No work. No Christmas shopping. Just some DVDs, books, music, good food, a comfortable bed, and my vibrator. Do not disturb. # Friday, December 12, 2003 ( 11:32 PM ) D W opinion My goodness, you sure do like me when I'm angry, don't you? I returned home from a party to a mailbox overflowing with letters of support and technical guidance. Thank you, but.... - I already have plans to move off BlogSpot. I have my own domain, I have a designer putting the finishing touches on the new header, patterns, and color scheme, and I'm queued up with BlogMoxie to move me to MT and add some bells and whistles. Things are puttering along. - I've been working on computers since 1982 and my job is in the technology sector. I understand software. - When I'm writing a lengthy essay, I compose it first in Word. When I'm dashing off a morning post while slamming down my coffee and doing my makeup, I compose it in BloggerPro. Why? It's fast and easy. - That's why I chose Blogger in the first place -- I wasn't sure if I would keep up a demanding hobby like blogging, so I chose the simplest system with the options I wanted. Note: I am not an idiot. I understand there are other systems and I know how to move to them. When I started writing I had no idea that I would do it almost every day, get upwards of 70,000 hits a month, and truly enjoy the people I meet through this medium. Blogger allowed me to focus on my writing, not tech support, and see if this was really something I wanted in my life. I'll close with my basic blogging philosophy: if you don't like what I write or you don't like me, go away. It's that simple. No need to e-mail your vitriol. I welcome all kind, thoughtful, interesting, and/or provocative letters (though I don't have time to reply to most of them). The rest? Don't need 'em, don't want 'em. # ( 2:58 PM ) D W asshat I bring you the fuckwit of the day: Listen Bitch, Instead of bitching and whining about your postings getting eaten by your blog program, why the fuck don't you type them up under some sort of word processing program, then cut and paste them into the blog? Evidently you aren't as fucking smart as you think, are you? Then you wouldn't be depriving us of your cunt filled postings. T BlogSpot is a tool, and as such, I should not have to do a hack to make it work properly. Write to me like this again, shithead, and I post your e-mail address. And people wonder why I don't have comments enabled. # ( 8:18 AM ) D W opinion Damned BlogSpot ate my post again! Fuck! That's the second time this week. I've had enough of this shit. Help!!! Get me out of here!! # Thursday, December 11, 2003 ( 9:21 PM ) D W playlist Introspective and heavily skewed to the Southern Hemisphere, with at least three Aussies and a Kiwi: 1. Superman by Lazlo Bane 2. Service and Repair by Calexico 3. Le vent nous portera by Noir Desir 4. Not Pretty Enough by Kasey Chambers 5. Reckless by Paul Kelly & The Messengers 6. Love Like Laughter by Beth Orton 7. She Will Have Her Way by Neil Finn with Sheryl Crow 8. Glory Box by Portishead 9. This Is How It Feels by Golden Palominos 10. Heaven by Lamb 11. Angel by Massive Attack 12. The Chauffeur (acoustic) by Duran Duran 13. Someone to Watch Over Me by Sting 14. Best Work by The Whitlams 15. Mad World by Gary Jules 16. It Can't Rain All the Time by Jane Siberry # ( 8:20 PM ) D W opinion I've been stricken with a sudden bout of melancholy this evening. This weekend I have two parties, some shopping, card writing, and a movie planned, and the holidays are just around the corner, yet I'm feeling bored and restless. Plus, despite a couple of wonderful kisses with Dante today, I'm feeling unloved. Brian is extremely busy, so I've only had one dashed note from him this week. It didn't address my post-Secretary confession to having had D/s relationships of varying intensities. I had expanded my comments to say that I enjoy dominant men and to make a favorable comparison to his attitude and behavior. I'll assume I didn't freak him out completely, as he's still planning to call me over the weekend. Things with Tuesday's Boy aren't working out as hoped; he's horribly shy and a homebody, so getting him to commit to a plan, even if he's initially enthusiastic, is almost impossible. Once that became evident, I lowered the pressure by making plans to see the movie with another friend and inviting the Boy to come along if he likes. I don't expect to see him. Ah well. It was a complication I didn't need, though the possibility made me very excited for a while. My Master wasn't able to call me this week, as we had planned. He'll try again next week. I miss him. I think I'm going to put together a playlist of just the sort of wallowing music I need. Look for it shortly. Won't it be nice when I move off BlogSpot and can actually share some of the hard to find tracks with you? # ( 7:27 AM ) D W opinion The muses are failing me today; I can't come up with a topic to write about. So, a few random thoughts: - Preliminary designs for when I move off BlogSpot are looking promising. I can't wait! The layout won't be much of a change, but the URL, name, and design will be more subtle than what I have here. No more worrying about someone seeing the page title even when you've minimized it. - I love my bed. No, really. It's king-sized with lots of attachment points for bondage on the head and footboards. I have wonderful Egyptian cotton sheets, silk pillowcases, and a thick down comforter. Yesterday I nearly purred in pleasure as I slipped into it and it's so much fun to play on. - I'm very casually considering going back to doing phone sex part time for a while. Winter months are the best, the dark, cold nights make for more callers than in the summer. The money would be nice, I don't have much of a live sex life to interfere right now, and having a few orgasms a night while talking dirty... well, what's not to love about that? The only things holding me back are memories of how emotionally draining it could be, a general distaste for the sex kitten marketing I'd have to do, and a dislike of the competition with other women. # |
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