ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom

My mom in Houston got 60 days' notice that her apartment building was being torn down. My sister helped her through a whirlwind decision-making cycle, resulting in a move just one week later on Nov 8. I felt helpless to assist from Illinois, until I checked air fares, which weren't too bad, so I flew down Nov 6 for a crazy week.   

Even though Mom doesn't have a ton of stuff in her clutter-free, well-organized one bedroom apartment, and she is blessed with enough savings and early-move cash incentives to afford to pay for packers, movers, and unpackers (holy cow, that was nice), still, moving is a pain, and I was very glad to be able to help. I owe her karmically for my two moves in 2011, to put it mildly.  

To amuse myself, I started compiling a list of things I almost said to my mother, but managed to not say. In some cases, barely.   

"That furniture wrap works just like bondage tape" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom

"With this yoga outfit, it's a shame the gang isn't here to ogle me for all the bending over" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom

"I don't think they could see cooch through the window, just boobs" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom 

"That's a book light? It looks so much like the WeVibe my lover gave me" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom

"No, save that duster, it would make a good sensation play toy" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom

"That's a book light? It looks so much like the WeVibe my lover gave me" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom

"This shower curtain liner smells just like my big black dildo" #ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom 

Mom: Nicely hung! Perfect in one hole! 

Me (#ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom): "That's what she said!"

Mom: you've done enough, you're off. 

Me: after I hang that last bedroom picture. 

Mom: you're failing at "off". 

Me (#ThoughtsIAlmostSaidToMom) "Oh no, no, you're wrong: I totally rock at getting off."

It's been wonderful to be here. As always, we have laughed a lot at ridiculous things I have said, in addition to the ones I managed to keep to myself.   

Postscript: I know I haven't written in a while. I'm alive. I haven't been taking appointments for a few months now, because unfortunately, my vertigo seems to have taken a turn for the unpredictable. Activities with unknown outcomes include writing, talking on the phone, and having orgasms. In good news, I had a great birthday, a fun Halloween, and I have plans for a November packes to the gills with friends and family. I hope to write about all of it eventually, but don't hold your breath.   

In the meantime, I'm slowly moving closer to recording podcasts to see how I like it, if I think it's sustainable. I have a microphone, I understand noise filtering, and I know where to host shows. It seems possible to me that when I do have bursts of productivity, I could potentially do that. Fingers crossed anyway, right?  

I hope all is well with you & yours.

Tired, Happy, Done

We settled. I'm legally bound to disclose no details, but it was very close to the smallest number I needed to walk away in peace. Most importantly, it's done, and I never have to look at the nasty papers again. Not today, not next month, not next year. Never. 

Explanation for those just joining in: I sued my long-term disability insurance for benefits they have refused to pay me for the last 3.5 years, regarding my neurological vertigo severe enough to keep me from working full-time. 

It was a brutal week leading up to the hearing. The hearing itself was mind-crushingly four hours long, and every aspect of the case was reviewed from every angle. I feel like all the truth was told. That part of it felt good. 

What also felt good was the support from family and friends and friends of friends. I felt like I was being carried on a cloud of love and good wishes. Thank you for your part in that.

So. It's a new dawn, a new day, a new life for me. And I'm feelin good. 

In case you don't know that song... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sJCoocxBE

Thank you. 

This Crazy Birthday

I wrote this for a few friends, but thought I'd share it with you too. 

I'm turning 42 on September 18. It's going to be awesome because that means I'll be The Answer for a year (geek reference here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phrases_from_The_Hitchhiker%27s_Guide_to_the_Galaxy#Answer_to_the_Ultimate_Question_of_Life.2C_the_Universe.2C_and_Everything_.2842.29 ). And any year that you're The Answer to the Ultimate Question has to be a great year. So, that'll rock. 

But ...

I was born on my father's 28th birthday, so he would have been turning 70, if he were still alive. I grew up thinking of it as "our birthday", but this will my 20th birthday I've celebrated without him since the heart attack that took him at age 50. So. That'll suck. 

And on Sept 24, I have a settlement hearing for the lawsuit against my long-term disability insurance provider. That battle has been raging for 3 years now, and it packs quite an emotional punch for me. I've been a bundle of nerves since I found out the hearing date. It will be the first time I've been face-to-face with a company representative. 

My lawyer recommended that I arrive at the hearing genuinely showing signs of vertigo. No faking, no exaggerating, but let them see what my neuropsychological testing revealed: severe cognitive impairment after periods of concentration (or motion).

For me, that means I will spend the week before Sept 24, which happens to contain my birthday, doing things that would NOT have made me dizzy in 2008, but which DO make me dizzy now. Action films, crowds, grocery stores, car trips, complicated math, strong emotions, dancing, rapid temperature changes... The list is very very long. There's lots to choose from. 

Usually, I space out my vertigo-inducing activities to give periods of brain rest, and I usually avoid some activities altogether unless I have a free day afterward to recover. But that week, I'll do a bunch of stuff I love, not rest my brain unless I can't keep going, and do my best to remember, "If I'm going to be miserable, at least I should have fun doing it."

The first movie I missed on the big screen was the 2009 Star Trek. I'll be watching that. 

I used to play a lot of Rock Band, so I'll be all  \m/

On the 22nd, I'll be having a birthday party, and while the guest list will be limited to a "light crowd" so I have a better shot at participating for more of the evening (if the house were packed, I'd not last long), I intend to participate in as many conversations involving 3+ people simultaneously as I can without hurling on my guests. 

(PS, I don't actually puke very often - I just feel pukey inside my head, but I will move away from you if I get to tummy-levels of nausea).  

On the 23rd, we're attending a big cookout party, where I will do my best to remain upright, and not make everyone else uncomfortable. These seem lofty goals to me. 

Then we're driving to Chicago for the hearing, which is at 9 am the next morning. 

It'll be a weird week.  I'll be around a lot of people, feeling bad physically and emotionally, but working hard to focus on fun happy things. 

So, if I'm not going to see you, you can help by praying for me to be as vertiginous as possible at the hearing with as little misery as possible leading up to it.

And, you can send me happy words (stories, encouragement, funny blog posts, whatever), because reading in volume works, too, and I love words a lot. And if you grew up with me or my parents, send a story about my family history I may have forgotten! 

If you are going to see me, please don't ask how I feel, or how I'm holding up. I'm gonna feel gruesome, but I'll be attempting to hide it, and I hate lying, so I'll tell you now: I'm gonna tell you I feel fantastic just to keep up the facade, but I'll treat it as a pre-agreed-upon mutually acceptable pretending, not a lie. Thanks for participating in my self-deception. 

Also, here's what you can do to help if you see me in person: tell me an awesome story about your life, then quiz me afterward on the details. I love hearing stories. And memory puzzles wreck me. And I'll concentrate harder if i know you'll be quizzing me, so it'll be a fun way to degrade my cognitive abilities together! (what a weird sentence)

Also, thanks for your understanding in advance if I burst into tears and excuse myself for seemingly no reason. Hopefully now, you understand why. 

The Beauty of Submissive Men

First, Ferns asked for a very special birthday present in a blog post, "The beauty of submissive men" - she wanted photos of submissive men. She asked for diversity and truth. She got both.

Because the resulting video can't be played on my iPhone or iPad, I didn't see it until after I read this blog post by the ever-articulate submissive Tomio Black, "Unexpected beauty", which made me cry and cry.

Then I finally saw the resulting video, hours later, here: "Submissive men: A celebration of beauty". I love it with all my heart.

Bravo Ferns. And happy birthday, Mistress.

If you're as happily moved as I am, please pass this on as many times as you can (this blog posts, or just direct links to them, I don't care).

That Went Well

I've built successful communities before: at church, at work, in online gaming, and socially. And I've organized group meetings and get-togethers all those places, too. So I had a high level of confidence that hosting my first kinkster community event would be a success...

Until about 2 hours beforehand, at which time waves of doubt crashed over me. What if the discussion format bombed? What if nobody shows? What if the food is terrible?

When I first organized the event, I was expecting 15 but secretly hoping for 20 just to feel badass.

I got 38. That's right, thirty-eight people showed up to mingle, listen to me give announcements about upcoming community events, and participate in the discussion groups (which were widely referred to as "semi-structured", an accurate description I love a lot).

And we had newcomers! One couple hadn't been to a community event in two years. Two people were complete newbies. I had non-newcomers on the lookout for newbies, and they were warmly greeted and welcomed by the community leaders who we want to be when we grow up (/sniffle they came to my thing! /sniffle)

But... back to that number. Thirty-eight is like a turnout you could expect in Austin. Or Houston. Or some other giant metropolis. You don't expect that for a non-mainstream fetish event in a town where corn fields are always no more than 10 minutes away. I mean, yes, within an hour's drive, there are probably about a million people, but still. I was pleasantly shocked.

So the food worked pretty well, but needs some tweaking, the drinks worked well, the traffic flow around the room worked well, and the venue loved us and can't wait for us to return. The manager even congratulated me on having such a good turnout. Awww. (I totally wanna smooch him, by the way)

Anyway, enough bragging about my thing. After it was over, my husband and his live-in girlfriend Devant kicked off a party at our house while I recovered upstairs for a few hours, playing a silly flirty party mixer game we made up, and helping the crowd feel welcome.

The only picture I took of myself was at the end of the evening, when I felt drunk as a skunk from my vertigo dizzies (I consumed zero alcohol), and I look like a wino. Guests said I looked "happy cute drunk" but clearly from the picture I refuse to share, they were merely being polite.

However, I did manage to get this picture of Devant, which should give you an idea of how the party went:

Devant in her natural habitat

She was being put into a straightjacket before getting beaten on the bed. A moment before this picture, Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy" came up on the rotation, and she made her eyes all googly and sang along, "I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind!" which cracked everyone up. A pink-haired 21-year-old in a straightjacket got beaten on my bed while playing brat and giggling hysterically. How great is my life?

Also, someone who was present for my Hand Orgy has been thinking she also wanted one, so she got one, and it was magical and wonderful and awesome. She also cried a lot, which made me feel less silly about crying at mine.

Then there was a guy there with the most awesome afro-like-but-surprisingly-not-on-a-black-guy hair (maybe he's Jewish? Middle Eastern? I'm not sure), and word spread to texture-lovers that he'd let us run our fingers through it. Oh, and maybe he likes being scratched. So maybe his shirt needed to come off while one... okay, two... no wait, four... I think it was five women eventually were surrounding him, playing with his hair and scratching his back and chest, and sometimes biting him. It was his first party ever, his first scene ever, and he was hiiiiiiiiiigh as a kite from happiness.

In case you're jealous. to. death. of that guy (as well you should be), here's how he got that scene: he went to three public meet-and-greets (aka munches) before anyone invited him to a party. He was polite and respectful at the public events. He never asked to be invited to the play parties. At the play party, he sat back and watched, declining to join in to the hand orgy or anything else other than watching because he was, as he said, "watching to see what the rules are so I don't mess up". He was approached by someone who asked what he liked. He negotiated with her about the hair playing and the scratching and the biting. He knew his safewords. He kept his hands at his sides because nobody had invited him to touch them. He moaned appreciatively when surrounded by women pawing at him, which made it more fun to continue to do so.

In short, he was polite and respectful and patient and open to new experiences.

Also, he had yummy lips, which I brain-drunkenly said aloud, so one of my friends dragged me over to him and told him I wanted to kiss him. Could not be more junior high. Ridiculous. He was gracious enough to oblige me, so we made out for like 2 minutes, only interrupted because I realized it was making my vertigo worse, and if I didn't stop kissing him, the party would be over for me. It was almost worth it to keep going, but not quite.

For those of you keeping track of my smooch slut record, I also made out with another friend who is quitting smoking. Y'know, as encouragement! I do what I can to help my friends be healthy, right? They were kissing partners #91 and #92.

It was a fantastic weekend, an amazing event, a great party, and I made it through more of it than I expected to, because I fortuitously got happy-vertigo-drunk instead of miserable-vertigo-drunk. The evening ended tucked in bed with my lover, extremely satisfied.

Big Weekend Ahead

In my typical way of doing more things at once than I can reasonably keep up with, this weekend, I am:

• hosting a community event designed to help newcomers to the kinkster lifestyle get their questions answered
• attending an after party in my home, organized by my husband and Devant (my husband's live-in girlfriend), which I will attend after my vertigo zombie-brain calms down
• spending the night with my lover after the play party, probably just for cuddles, due to aforementioned vertigo zombie-brain issues
• having a friend switch my hosting providers on my domains, which will probably generate a lot of questions which need rapid resolution
• mentally gearing up for a second photo shoot with Devant, tentatively scheduled for Monday

I think that's it....

The after party is really the awesome part. I said that I wanted to give something back to the kinkster community which has not only given us Devant, but also a gaggle of other friends here who I am growing increasingly close to.

I had the idea of hosting my own event, optimized to be as non-dizzying as possible, so I wouldn't feel as guilty about not being able to keep up with Everything Everyone Else Is Doing (which I totally am not managing to do - I'm a very sporadic attender to the extraordinary volume of other people's things I'm invited to attend, no matter what it sounds like here on the blog)

But in general, kinkster community events are far more populated if there is at least one play party afterward. Sure, the public event is public and the play parties are private, but still, more people show up for the public non-play thing if there's a play destination afterward.

But I knew I couldn't do both, host an event and host a play party afterward. It's too much to do.

Hubby and Devant came to my rescue, agreeing to host an after  party when they can. Yay!

So here's what this looks like: I do nothing to prepare for the party. I host the event, which requires very little setup from me. I come home, go upstairs, and fall into a deep coma-like sleep for a few hours. I wake up and come downstairs, making a grand entrance to a play party in full swing. I gather attention, adoration, hugs, kisses, and gropes for an hour or two. Maybe I help someone beat or tie someone else. I float back upstairs with my lover and fall asleep cuddling, knowing that my vertigo is not causing anyone else to forego fun for the evening, and, instead, I have helped facilitate fun.

Seriously. Who the fuck has a life this ridiculous and awesome. I'm not used to it yet. I hope I never get used to it.

I'll try to remember to take pictures, but I might be too busy smooching women and grabbing boobs. I trust you to forgive me.

2 Years, 450 Posts, 1 Blogged Life

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