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Blood and bone,
Sweat and rain;
Feeling whole and fatally alive
Beneath the storm.
Each breath a revelation
Sheathed in pulsing lungs,
Every scream a blessing
From a warrior goddess.
Fists beat cadence
On willing flesh
To match the beat
Of a quickening heart:
Prey – sacrifice –
Ripped forth and offered
With cupped palms and bowed head
To the Almighty Mother.
Blood roses bloom
Beneath slicked skin –
A garden planted
By steadfast hands,
Watered by tears and glory,
Fed with murmured pleas,
Moans, sighs and, finally,
The flood of rich essence
After the dam has cracked,
Been shattered, and
I am learning to be alone again.
Relationships are funny creatures; no matter how much we work to retain an individual identity and fight against the codependence that tries to seep into the cracks, a little bit of The Meld still happens. We still become accustomed to having that person very deeply involved in our lives, whether that means spending weekends together, running errands together or what have you. Then, suddenly, all of that changes. Oh, perhaps we have a bit of an inkling that it’s coming. We start feeling that the relationship has reached the end of its natural course and will probably fade away soon, like the last ember of a campfire quietly dimming into the darkness. Nothing fully prepares us, though, for the aftermath of extricating our separate identities and absorbing them fully back into ourselves. Even if a friendship remains–even if a good friendship remains–it’s not quite the same, and adjustments must be made.
I reflect on these concepts most calmly. I accept the slight ache that comes even with a foreseen separation. I know that the decisions mutually made were for the best, for both parties. And now, I readjust. I accustom myself to not being so in need of alone time because it is much more readily available. I acclimatize to moments of complete silence and stillness. I prepare for being completely open to my own mind, to being subject to moments of intense reflection and self-evaluation whether I want to face them or not. I steel myself for the brutal honesty of my own unhindered thoughts, because I no longer have anything behind which to hide.
It is time to come to know myself again, intimately and without bias. It is time to reexamine the cracks and chinks in my armor and adjust–remove?–where needed. It is time to reevaluate my faults and become acquainted with the new ones that have popped up largely unnoticed. And, because I am not composed entirely of complex configurations of shortcomings, it is time to recall the good that lies within me, to embrace and harness that power so that I may be a source of illumination upon my own journey as it enters into this new phase, and also to shed light onto those who walk with me. I am full of love, but first I must turn it inward so that it can reflect upon the mirror of my spirit and, in turn, shine more strongly outward.
If you love me, you will not lay every bad mood, negative emotion or relationship issue at the feet of my gender identity.
If you love me, you will never, ever, ever try to control my physical appearance, be it as trivial as the length of my hair or as permanent as how many tattoos I get.
If you love me, I will be a priority in your life, not an option, a backup plan or an acceptable alternative.
If you love me, you will listen. Truly listen, not just put a patient look on your face and tune me out.
If you love me, you will not rub your flirtations with others in my face unless flirtation with others is an acceptable aspect of our relationship. In any case you will not rub them in my face with the intention of reminding me of how desired you are by others. I don’t care about them. I care about us.
If you love me, you will help me to ensure that we never have the same fight twice; you will help me to solve the problem the first time.
If you love me, you will draw me closer, not push me away at the first sign of troubled times ahead.
If you love me, you will never think it acceptable to criticize or trivialize my decisions and beliefs then get angry at me when I don’t blindly go along with yours.
If you love me, you will listen to my advice when you ask for it instead of shrugging it off because it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.
If you love me then you will realize that a successful relationship requires massive amounts of effort on both sides; it isn’t something you can coast through in the lowest possible gear while I put in all the effort and shoulder all the heartache.
If you love me, you won’t have to read any of this and wonder if it was written about you.
There has been a lot of social media coverage on the fiasco surrounding Oregon State University’s uninviting of Tristan Taormino from their Modern Sex conference. Needless to say, finding out that one of the major universities in my beloved state of Oregon has done this made me embarrassed to be an Oregonian for the first time since I left California behind. This post isn’t much of an eloquent rant or well-worded chastisement of this act of ridiculously outdated censorship, but I wanted to get the word out there that this kind of thing is still happening, and in places that would normally be considered pretty liberal. Huge steps have been taken towards gaining basic rights and liberties for the GLBTQ and sex-positive communities, y’all, but we still have quite a ways to go.
It almost goes without saying that OSU made a big mistake in barring Tristan from their conference. Let’s make sure that the same mistake isn’t made by universities and other establishments closer to your own neighborhood.
Also, Oregonians: fear not that you have missed the Tristan Taormino experience, because she will be coming to Portland’s own woman-owned, all gender- and sexuality-friendly sex toy boutique SheBop in February.
I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday weekend, or just a wonderful weekend in general if you’re not a celebrator of holidays. And if you are, I hope Santa brought you all you wished for, whether you were on the nice or naughty list. ;)
Let your family know you love and appreciate them, whether they be blood or chosen family.
And remember… no hambones, turkey bones or chocolate for the furry ones!
(Note: my set of cuffs do not link up to the straps with a clip as shown in the pic. Mine are hooked directly to a loop in the cuff and in the strap via a metal O-ring. I couldn’t find a pic online of the kind of cuff I was sent, and was unable to take a decent pic of my own, so there you have it.)
Okay, before we go anywhere in this review I need to point out that the correct spelling of the structure is in fact “door jamb” but in keeping with the actual product name, I left it misspelled above. If referring to the structure in my review, though, I will be spelling it correctly. Alright. Here we go!
So, Door Jam Cuffs, brought to you by the same people who make the supercute Corsette harness and one of the most well-known under-the-bed restraint systems: Sportsheets! And, of course, provided by the lovely people at Babeland for me to review, because I have been wanting some door jamb cuffs for a while. Living in an apartment has its pros and cons, but one of the big cons for any BDSM connoisseur is that there is very limited space (and structural integrity) to drill eyebolts into the wall for hooking up cuffs—not to mention either the extra maintenance at move-out time or a deduction from your deposit. So these handy-dandy “instant dungeon just add door” cuffs are really quite perfect for the situation.
I will admit, I was a little put out when I pulled the cuffs out of their packaging. Honestly… they look flimsy. Plastic tubing attached to backpack-strap nylon strips attached to thin fleecy Velcro-closure cuffs? I was pretty sure I could get out of them, never mind someone stronger than I! But, we all know how the saying goes: don’t judge a book by its cover. And in this case, don’t judge the Door Jam Cuffs based on their rather unassuming looks.
For one, these cuffs are comfy. The material is some sort of synthetic made to feel like rabbit fur or something similar, so it feels really nice on the skin. (Added bonus for some of you: vegan friendly!) Of course, that does nothing for the sadists who want their bottoms in stiff, coarse materials that scrape and dig into the skin, but for us sensualists, it’s nice! (Not to mention, hey, sometimes the ideal has to be sacrificed in the name of convenience. It happens.) And actually, these things are way stronger than they look. I pulled with almost all my strength – wrist and ankle – and could not tear out of them. Someone very strong probably could, but these cuffs will keep the average person in place quite nicely.
Another issue I was a little worried about was the size of the cuffs, as I am not a small girl and I do not have tiny, delicate wrists and ankles. The verdict: the cuffs fit fine on my wrists, and while the fabric does not meet when wrapped around my ankles, the extra long Velcro strip closure does the trick, and is not uncomfortable.
There is only one hangup I’ve encountered, and that has to do with using the cuffs as ankle restraints. The plastic tubing meant to sit on the other side of the door jamb and essentially keep your bottom from going anywhere is not small by any means, but since so many inside doors are placed higher to accommodate for carpeting (or just because of shoddy installation), the tubing may slide underneath and render the cuffs useless as ankle restraints. If you have doors that sit close to the floor, this will not be a problem. If it is, you could always try closing the straps into the sides of the door close to the bottom. I tried this and it seemed to work well. And, of course, the cuffs work flawlessly as wrist restraints, which is where I think I would mostly be using them anyway.
The conclusion? Give the Door Jam Cuffs a try! They truly are a great solution for those situations when you cannot cuff your bottom to a wall or a St. Andrews cross or some other sturdier instrument of consensual torture. They work anywhere there is a doorway with a closable door, and can be rolled up and tucked easily into luggage (if you’re the type that doesn’t mind braving the TSA searches, of course) for kink on the go. No, they don’t exactly look hardcore and threatening, but they are highly functional and that, to me, is what really matters.
And, as always, thanks to Babeland for sending me lovely items to review!
So my work got fed up with my migraine-related absences and put me on part time, which honestly doesn’t upset me at all. I finally saw my doc a week ago and have been put on a migraine preventive medicine. Unfortunately it can take three weeks to a month to kick in, so not a lot has changed there. The only thing that has changed is that I’m having fewer work-related migraines, but I still get them when I do go to work. I think it’s a combination of my hatred for my job, the cheap, buzzy fluorescent lights, shrill phones and dirty ventilation system. I’m still trying to find a better job buuuut the job market is tight up here.
Emmett and I did just go up and hang out with Scarlet and Onyx in Seattle, which was a blast. We had met Onyx previously but this was our first time meeting Scarlet, who was up in Juneau last time we came to Seattle. We traipsed around Capitol Hill, partook of the most delicious cupcakes on this planet Earth, and played a lot of Wii Mario Kart. It was awesome. Onyx and Scarlet are awesome. That’ll definitely have to happen again.
The sex life, sadly, is still dead. I keep hoping for changes in that department, but sadly I don’t think changes there will be coming until my migraines/headaches are fully under control. So hopefully that will be happening sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, I guess this just becomes the blog of a queer, kinky girl who had a sex life at one point. The blog’s not dead, just… different. For now.
Well this blog shriveled up and died like a lily in the desert, now didn’t it?
Maybe because I, too, am a shadow of my former self. I have settled into my new job, but not happily, and I still search daily for a new opportunity. Any new opportunity. On top of that, I have been suffering horrible chronic migraines and only just got on meds for them on March 1st. They work, somewhat. I’m still nowhere near 100% though.
I’m not giving up on this blog yet. Have a little patience with me. I’m still reviewing at least. One day, hopefully sooner rather than later, my mind will once again be able to come up with content inspired by my own imagination. I’m maintaining hope.