Care and Feeding of Galiana

Too much want

In the probably-forgettable movie Made In Heaven, seen in my impressionable youth, a new soul falls in love with a guy named Mike in heaven, and then, after she's born and grows up, although she doesn't remember him directly, she writes a children's book called "The Care and Feeding of Mike". The sweet little phrase stuck with me, and now when I think of care, I think "The Care and Feeding of..."

Urg. I have so much want.

I want to continue the dialog I entered into with my celebration of male submissives post, reading others' spectacular writings and leaving comments that make me seem like I know what I'm talking about. I want to keep engaging with Fizz and Chaos of Lab Coats & Lingerie, lose myself in the archives of KittyStryker's recently-Janes-Guide-approved PurrVersatility, help Alisa research to fill in the blanks of her archiving efforts at KinkInExile, encourage Tomio to keep writing, and pathetically attempt to keep up with all the insights and research spread by the inspirational maymay, knowledge worker extraordinaire, the one who drew me into this particular dizzying world of rhetoric and ideas to begin with by the brilliantly evocative MaleSubmissionArt...

Maymay, by the way, is also the one who helped me realize the value of contextual linking. I recognize the irony of having no links in that sentence. (trivia: I am always certain I have used the word "irony" incorrectly)

But back to my insatiable want... I want to write more about fairness and negotiation and respect in relationships, BDSM and vanilla. I want to share my observations about community-building from years of church and BDSM groups and playing MMORPGs. I want to start podcasting. I want to release more videos that are like visual podcasts. I want to open an Ask Galiana blog so I can pretend to legitimize my compulsive need to share my perspective.

I want to take series of pictures enjoying my body as I strip out of constrictive clothing to show that I can still celebrate my physicality even though my medicines packed on an extra 15 pounds I didn't intend to gain.

I want to spend every moment with my family for these last couple of weeks while I still live in Houston with them. After 21 years away, it has been soul-nourishing to live in the same town again for 6 months, just barely long enough to develop habits of including each other. I will miss the casual ability to help, and to feel feel caught up.

I want to be spending enough time over the phone with my husband, who is away from our current home, working in the place where I'm moving at the end of the month, to stay emotionally connected to him during this busy time, so we don't get too snappy or resentful.

I want to sort through the crap in my home that we didn't have time to sort through when we moved here in March, and I want to recycle, donate, sell, and throw away as much as possible before we pay by the pound to move it cross-country. I am disturbed by how many belongings we have moved multiple times and never used.

And I want to keep feeding off the energy of my callers, take luscious escapes of fantasy and pleasure, lose myself in the delicious focus of luxuriating in the erotic rhythms of wants and needs and secrets and lusts. I feel useful and sexy and empowered and strong and capable when I spend time having phone sex.

And on the days of the move, I want to be at the top of my game, ready to do whatever needs to be done, strong and willing and able.

Days? What do you mean day? The next 3 weeks include these separate days: hub's last 4-day trip where he has to finish packing everything that is his and sorting everything that is ours, 4 days of paying an underemployed friend to help me pack, movers taking our stuff, my hub driving away with the car and the dogs, my flying up to *static* and him driving me to our new home several hours from there, our stuff arriving at our new place, and a great friend from college arriving to help me unpack for a few days.

Oh, and I'd like to do all that without having any vertigo crashes, please. Because having massive physical limitations is completely inconvenient right now. Could I just not have vertigo for a bit?

Dear Galiana,

Please read The Care and Feeding of Galiana. It goes something like this: Galiana needs, at a minimum: water, food, down-time to let her brain rest, and, separately from the rest, sleep. If you could also work in "having reasonable expectations for herself," that would be peachy.

Love, Galiana

I feel like I'm considering dropping out of a bunch of stuff that just finally got rolling, and I don't want to let any of it go. But that is the thought pattern of people who drive themselves crazy from inexperience, and, for better or worse, I know better.

So I will put my activist urges on a shelf, carefully schedule blocks of time with family, resign myself to still having clutter after we move, watch my days-between-blog-posts climb again, savor the escape with the callers who catch me on the phone, email the ones who let me know they missed me, and do the best I can to get through this as productively as possible.

Switches Get It...

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Dear Galiana

Dear Galiana,

I know you love doing things in sequence (and good for you for writing down the steps to creating new picture packages in the right order, so you don't have to figure it all out again every time you do it), but getting stuck on one task is not terribly efficient when there are other things to do.

... especially when the "getting stuck" part involves trying to upload large files while simultaneously populating your new offsite storage location ... with 2.5 GB left to go... How much bandwidth do you think you have, young lady? Hmmm?

Now please stop watching percent-loaded meters stall out, and get some things done.

Love,
Galiana

Dear Galiana

Dear Galiana,

Since the temperature in the Fuckatorium 2.0 is roughly 7 degrees cooler than the rest of the upstairs, please try not to suddenly develop a drinking problem and dribble ice-cold diet coke over your flimsy lingerie.

Love, Galiana

Fuckatorium 2.0, Blog Post 300!

I have set up The Fuckatorium enough for me to re-open my cam listing, and this is my 300th Blog Post! (queue streamers, horns, ticker tape, merriment and mirth all around)

On 300 blog posts: Considering I started blogging Aug 15, that's a little better than 40 blog posts per month... which is probably too damn many, but I've learned to accept and (usually) love my chattiness. I am proud of many of the things I've written here, and I have been touched again and again by the responses of people who have found the blog.

On the Fuckatorium and cam: I wanted my 300th post to be special, so I spent the day finalizing my space, and I did a little video tour of the finally-set-up-enough-to-unveil Fuckatorium 2.0! Exciting!

(important note: The sound quality on the video is not as good as the sound when you call me - I promise. But I was tired of mucking with the sound and already 2.5 hours behind schedule, so I went with it.)

I hope to eventually transcribe the video and edit this post with that, but for now, I hope you can hear most of it.

The important things are: the Fuckatorium 2.0 is set up enough for me to feel comfortable in it, it's a big room, I have a mirrored wall which are hiding closets full of fun clothes and gear, I have a bookshelf full of sex toys, and I have my bed.

Oh, and I figured out how to show my feet close-up without straining myself (a big improvement over the setup from Fuckatorium 1.0).

Now that this is (mostly) done, I can already feel the energy returning to do all kinds of thing with my web site, my listings, my blog... Seriously, all of my productive energy has been focused on this for the past three days: getting this blog post up with a video and turning my cam listing back on, and yet, while the video was still compressing, ideas starting popping into my head.

Dear Galiana: Please relax and enjoy yourself tonight instead of bopping directly to the next thing without taking time to celebrate, you goofy dork. Love, Galiana

(footnote: my first caller of the evening was phone, not cam, but he was willing to indulge me feeling celebratory, so now I feel like I've had a toast with the best champagne to christen the place... thank you)

Happy happy me!

Data Better Unanalyzed

In general, I try to live by the concept, "Don't ask the question if you don't want to know the answer."

But today, ignoring the nagging warning in the back of my mind, I answered my lingering question, "What percentage of my income has been from very short calls (less than 5 minutes)?"

I was hoping to be pleasantly surprised by a high number like 10% -- some number I wouldn't want to lose. And I expected that pleasant surprise to fuel my motivation to give my best for new callers who seem to be on a short-call pace.

The answer, unfortunately, was "about 2%". Rats. That answer does not motivate me.

And being less motivated for new, fast callers makes it more likely for me to do something stupid like: assume a new caller is a fast, non-repeat caller and lose interest, thereby boring the caller (who is actually looking for a great conversationalist with whom to while away a leisurely hour or two) into ensuring that they never call me back.

Darn data. Why do you have to be so accurate? Can't you lie to me? Just this once? Please?

Dear Galiana: Forget you ever asked. And don't get lazy. Love, Galiana.

Dear Life: Be More Predictable

Dear Life:
Please be more predictable. It's bad enough that I can't predict how many phone sex calls I'll get, or what time of day is best to be logged in, or what difference it makes when I change the number of blog entries per week. But the least you could do is wait until things feel settled to toss in a family-related health crisis.
Love, 
Galiana

Dear Readers and Callers:

I may have to travel to Mom's if her doctor decides she needs surgery tomorrow - she's been in the hospital with an upper GI blockage for three days. It is almost certainly solve-able, and almost certainly not life-threatening.

However, as someone who worries too much about almost everything (I can't be perfect, right?), the situation is mucking with my ability to feel sexy. So I haven't been following my calendar. I'll update it to reflect a big, fat "Sorry, but I don't know."

How can you help? Well, financially, if you've ever had the urge to send me a Tribute, now would be a great time (click the "Pay a Tribute" link from that listing). Or buy pics from My Flirt Store. Or make sure you've left feedback on all your calls and purchases to help my listings stay well-ranked. Or listen to my recorded listing for at least 2 minutes, then leave me feedback (because although five people have listened to it, none have left feedback, so it's not showing up in the list of recordings yet, which is annoying). Any of those would be super-awesome.

Non-financially, I'd love your prayers / healing energy / good thoughts for Mom, and your prayers / calming energy / good thoughts for me. Or now would be a great time to drop me an email with a set up for our next fantasy - send some good fun play energy my way.

I will be logging in whenever I feel sexy. It will probably hit me suddenly, when Inner Slut has had enough of being ignored and says, "Fuck this being worried and feeling useless shit... Let's play!" Inevitably during times of stress, I get bursts of sexual energy. In those moments, the best way to help me is to call and give me orgasms! Yay escapism!

If you want to be notified when I'm on line with an email, let me know and I will do so happily (either an in-system email or to any email address you provide).

Sorry for lack of predictability. Thanks for your understanding. When I know anything for sure, I'll let you know.

Love,
Galiana

Dear Galiana,
I would try that, but... ummm... when exactly do "things feel settled"?
Love,
Life