Thursday, January 31, 2013

Woman of Leisure

It's been about seven months now since I felt like I was physically capable of sustaining a phone sex call in a manner worthy of charging for it. My current neurological makeup seems to favor activities which provide a lot of joy, but require very little concentration, and if either of those aren't true, I run out of steam quickly.

Writing for this blog has been oddly difficult as well. There are stories I want to tell, but I haven't been able to figure out how to tell them here. I write things on FetLife, for my in-flesh kinkster friends who have become my community and local family of choice. Some day I'll figure out how to translate them here as well.

I was talking last night with someone who has also had an online "persona" which dropped off his radar when he got busy or overwhelmed. I don't think Galiana is a "persona" in the traditional sense, because Galiana is all honestly me (except the name), but Galiana is ... filtered me, focused me, a version of me that has been seen through a filter of "ready for the world and ready to please", and maybe that's the filter that I haven't been able to sustain lately.

Thankfully, though, in the midst of this season of not being able to focus on someone else's energy and match it consistently or for any predictable length of time, we settled my disability claim, which has provided significant financial breathing room for now. It would make me nuts not to do anything financially productive forever, unless I really couldn't come up with anything I can consistently commit to.

Also thankfully, I have ample opportunities to do activities which provide a lot of joy, but require very little concentration.

Indulge me, if you will, fine ladies and sirs, as I describe to you the life of Galiana Chance, Woman of Leisure.

Throwing Parties
There's an odd phenomenon with hosting a party. On one hand, yes, having a party requires a lot of concentration, especially with as picky as we are about the physical setup and the cheese selection. It's important. Don't judge.

But my home has the giant advantage of an easy escape to a comfy bed. It's unrealistic to expect other people to set up a separate vertigo station for me. The ability to take a break for an hour or two makes it much much easier to throw a party.

Also, our guests are good about helping clean up, bless their sweet hearts. I think it's a pity thing. And I'm okay with that.

So, every month, we've been throwing a shindig for 15-30 of my closest friends. And I've been attending a few shindigs that others throw, although I wish I could attend all of them.

Hosting a Meet n Greet
I felt like the local kinkster scene was missing a monthly event specifically geared for (a) people who get vertigo in crowds to have an escape hatch, and (b) to help newcomers feel welcomed and give them a way to meet other local kinksters. So I started one. It's a munch / meet n greet / open public meeting, whatever you want to call it.

It's extremely simple, and the layout is such that I can sit outside the room where the crowd is gathered, and I can talk with the few people at a time who are hanging out by the bar, under the auspices of "I'm watching for people entering so they can get a name tag". But really, it's way easier on my vertigo to be out by the bar. Shhhh. Don't tell anyone. We're averaging 30-40 people per month, which wildly exceeds my expectations.

When the Meet n Greet is on the same weekend as the parties we host at our house, I spend the whole week reserving energy for them. By the end of the night, I'm either sacked out upstairs with a cuddle buddy, or I'm endlessly grazing in the snack room, glassy-eyed, giving hugs and encouraging people to make fun of me. I'm useless for two days afterward, but it's fun, and it's worth it.

Halloween Season
We attended one kinkster costume-encouraged Halloween party, and we threw one. I went the lazy route with store-bought costumes from a local lingerie boutique / sex toy shop.
Referee Galiana
At home, I was the referee, where people kept offering to blow my whistle, and then offering to play me some horrible song about whistle blowing which I am clearly too old and grumpy to properly appreciate.

Major Tease Galiana

The one someone else hosted, I was "Major Tease" as it said on my name thing on my costume, but it was hotly debated whether I was a "tease" or a "slut" if I let multiple people grab my boobs. There was empirical testing done.

It was during this season of spirits that I decided my primary role at most parties is to be the best eye candy I can be, plus encourage my friends to grope me, and each other. Also, I engineer hookups for other people: play partners, smooching buddies, and cold girls with my eternally-warm-handed lover. I like the kinds of trouble I cause.

Spanksgiving

I know at least two people in St Louis who are going to be super mad to discover this information this way, but ... The week before Thanksgiving, I went to the StL3 Spanksgiving conference, where I changed outfits far more often than was necessary.

Galiana at Spanksgiving

I forgot to take pictures of at least two outfits at the conference. The costume changes were seriously out of hand. But super ridiculous fun. Cameras aren't allowed in the main area, so the pics were in side areas or bathrooms, but that was the best I had. I felt like a stripper about to go onstage all weekend, but people kept telling me they loved my outfits, so what was I gonna do, disappoint them by staying in one outfit? Pffff. Clearly not.

I spent a wonderful, affirming weekend learning, smooching, getting groped, getting spanked, and distracting the off-duty cops working security. It's not my fault one of them is 6'8" and gorgeous and has a British accent! What was I supposed to do, let him feel neglected? When he works so hard to protect and serve? Noooooo, clearly the right thing to do was to bring him women and let him whisper naughty things in their ear so he could watch them melt. And maybe offer to let all the cops grope me, including the woman cop. It's not my fault I was raised to be friendly and inclusive.

But seriously, the presentations were amazing, the company was spectacular (Devant also had an amazing weekend - she got her name cut into her shoulder with a scalpel! Yeouch! She loved it), and the energy was fantastic. By the end of Saturday, I was a loopy weirdo space cadet, but I was getting so much happy energy that I just kept wandering around soaking it up. Thankfully, nobody expected me to be coherent. Whew.

Thanksgiving & The Formal Dinner

We had Thanksgiving dinner with several friends who did not have family-of-birth plans, and it ended up being a delightful family-of-choice time, with mind-blowingly delicious food and lovely conversation. I realized I was still recovering from Spanksgiving, which had ended four days earlier, when the spirited multi-way conversation going on around me no longer made sense, as if everyone was speaking gibberish.

That was when I understood for the first time that my vertigo crashes had adapted to stimulus of pleasant social overload by blocking my cognitive processes instead of giving me overwhelmingly unpleasant whirling sensations. Oh, silly Brain. Thanks for the adaptation. How about you work on adapting to not be dizzy at all? No? Okay, well then, I'll take "pleasantly confused" as a consolation prize.

A mere two days later, we had a Formal Dinner at our home, where people who wanted to be in service/submission for the evening literally served the rest of us, as if the ones being served were Victorian lords and ladies. I was asked? forced? encouraged? to step out of the limelight and let other submissives in the community organize and arrange everything. It was harrrrrrd! I kept wanting to help with stuff! But they were all mean to me and made me sit back and relax and be served! Crazy!

Formal Dinner Table

Our home looked amazing, with table linens and individual menus made especially for the event, and I honestly had to do very little in support. It was easily the most delicious dinner I have ever had outside of a fancy restaurant. And honestly, more delicious than some Zagat-rated meals I've had. Each of the four courses caused at least one foodgasm. And how do you top the memory of having flaming bananas foster in your house?!? It was so amazing that it felt like a dream. Was I really served ... in my home ... by a bunch of willing submissives ... exquisite pork loin and perfect mushroom risotto and creme brulee that brought tears to my eyes? In my home? I'll never forget it.

Then we went to someone else's home for a lovely play party afterward, where I got spanked a bit. It was a mild scene in terms of BDSM culture, but it was enough to melt me into a pile of useless vapid staring and giggles, so I became the after-care zombie cuddle buddy, which suited me quite well.

And More

That was just October and November. In December, I went to three kinkster holiday parties, one of which we hosted, and traveled back to Texas to see my awesome family. There were a lot of outfit changes. And I smooched a lot of girls. And I made my teddy bear servant cum without touching him (heh, that was fun). And my husband and I rekindled some mischievous energy. It was a fantastic month.

I got to confirm my growing understanding of my limits without the pressure of wanting to save energy for work, and the truth is that I can go a long long way socially, as long as nobody asks me to calculate a tip, remember the name of anything or anyone, or solve a puzzle involving rearranging objects in a limited amount of space. I would be utterly useless without my phone chirping reminders and storing lists for me, but I've figured out how to use it to manage around the lapses in my unfortunately spotty memory.

What I Can't Do These Days

Thank you for all the emails and twitters of concern over the past few months. The truth is, my vertigo isn't doing particularly well. I'm often confused. I often feel unable to drive safely, even short trips in town. I spend a lot of days on my own, snuggling with my dogs and limiting my sensory stimulation.

I thought maybe I'd be able to start up a podcast. I'm sure I would have a modest, loyal audience if I launched it. So for most of January, I slowed down my social calendar and tried to build enough juice to make it happen.

It turns out, I can't. It's not that I don't want to, I just can't. I can't sustain the concentration I need to do even short bursts of podcasting, because there are so many other technical pieces which go along with the podcast, other than just the recording, and I can't get myself from here to there. Not yet. I hope someday, but not yet. That's been understandably disappointing.

And clearly, I can't write blogs very often. This one took me two weeks. I'll keep doing it, as I can, because I like keeping in touch with the few readers who continue to pop in. And I like having it to return to when I get better again. Hi! Thank you for still checking here! Mmmmmmmwuh!

What I Can Do These Days

I am obviously finding ways to enjoy myself in this season. Clearly, I'm not suffering. I'm attempting to let go of the shame and sorrow of not feeling productive. I'm over-compensating by telling my friends on FetLife my opinions of their personal issues way more often than I probably should.

And sometimes, I have given people a different perspective on their situations in ways they have found helpful. Or at least they've told me it was helpful, which was nice. So I'm doing best to be an encouragement to my in-person friends and family here.

Since I can't figure out how to do financially productive work anymore, I have gone back to trying new anti-vertigo medicines. The first one was hopeful at first, but after 4 days, I had horrible rebound, so that was an unfortunate no. It made me go back and try a few fast-acting ones that had worked in the past, but they all had the same effects as before.

Today is Day 4 of a new medicine that needs to build up slowly in my bloodstream. I can't tell what it's doing exactly, but I did have the urge yesterday to talk like a hick all day. Really. This big, fat Texan twang kept coming out of my mouth. It was deeply amusing. It seems to be gone today, but it certainly counts as the most bizarre and hilarious possible side effect yet.

So I'm doing the best I can do with what I have in this season. It is good enough. I am extraordinarily grateful that if I have to be in a season where I can't be financially productive, at least I don't have to worry about bills being paid. It's a good life, and I'm glad I get to live it.

As always, feel free to drop me an email (see the Contact and Links page) any time to check up on me, tell me your good news, tell me your sad news, whatever. I'll write back when I can, but it often won't be right away.

First Stand Up

I happened to be at an open mic for stand-up, so I decided to try my hand. I've suspected I wouldn't be horrible at it, and sure enough, it wasn't horrible (except for about 45 seconds near the beginning, which I edited out).

Enjoy :)



And if anybody feels like transcribing it so I can have the whole text of it at the end of this blog post, please feel free to do so and send it to me.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Becoming The Answer

I turned 42 this year, which means I am now The Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything (follow the link for the geeky reference).

So for my birthday party, I gathered a few local kinkster friends with a very specific set of criteria:
  • I had to believe they wanted good things for me
  • I had to believe they would not be offended or bothered by sexual play (many kinksters, especially BDSM players, only play with pain outside their primary relationship, but they don't include overtly sexual acts)
  • I had to believe they would say "no" to my request if they were uncomfortable in any way (not everyone will)
  • I had to believe they would enjoy running their hands over my body (not everyone would)
  • I had to believe they would not be traumatized if I cried in front of them
The first unbelievably wonderful thing about my birthday is that I had to pare down my list: there were enough people fitting those criteria in our kinkster community that I couldn't invite everyone who I wished could have been there, because the sheer volume of people in our home would have been counterproductively overwhelming.

So. Yeah. This is the part where my brain goes -splork- from disbelief with how crazy wonderful my life sometimes is.

-splork-

Here is what I said to kick off the party after everyone had gathered, also known as Easily The Most Insane Speech Ever:
Thank you all so much for coming here tonight.

I'm almost sure you all know this, but just in case: in addition to this being a birthday party, it is also 2 days before my disability insurance settlement hearing. We've waited three years for this hearing, and it's been a crazy hard road.

[start to cry, spend the rest of the speech powering through tears as best I can]

So this week, to prepare for the hearing, I am doing lots of things which normally wipe me out - but nothing that would have made me dizzy in 2008 before I got vertigo - and I'm pretending like it's 2008 and I don't need to recuperate between activities. I'm pretending that there is no vertigo wall for me to crash into.

However, what only three of you know, and this is hard to say out loud, but... something shifted in my neurological balance over the summer, in June some time, I think, and some things have been wiping me out even more than usual since then. And unfortunately, one of those activities has been having orgasms, especially with a partner. So, I just haven't been. Having orgasms. With other people. Not really at all for a few months now. Poor guys. [gesture to my husband and my local lover]

My local lover: No, poor you [I nod, catch my breath again, take in the empathy I feel in the room]

So, hmmm, let me see, if I'm trying to do things I enjoy this week without worrying about getting wiped out... what could I possibly come up with that I might enjoy? [everyone laughs]

So I figure that if I'm going to have a non-solo orgasm, I might as well go big and... y'know... throw a party and invite everyone in the party to help bring me to orgasm. Cuz... y'know... go big or go home, right? [gentle cheering]

So that's the goal. Now for logistics. I'm going to explain an insane amount of information and caveats, after which you can make an informed decision whether or not you want to participate.

First of all, I was tested for Sexually Transmitted Infections earlier this week, and they all came out negative, and the copy of my STI report is right here if you want to see it [wave a paper].

Next, before we start, I'm going to be a crazy controlling control freak and ask everyone to wash your hands so I don't get the flu on Monday [everybody laughs at me].

Also, I bought a bunch of those single-use toothbrushes Colgate Wisps, so if you want to kiss me or lick me, feel free to brush your teeth first if you'd feel more relaxed about it, or use the mouthwash in the bathroom.

Also, if you want gloves, we have some non-latex gloves, and feel free to wear them.

Also, in what is perhaps the most embarrassing and awkward thing to admit to a sex party ever, I ... ummmm... deep breath... I started my period yesterday [groans of "oh fuck I'm sorry" from the women], so I just douched and I have in a menstrual cup, so there shouldn't be any blood, but if that freaks you out, feel free to avoid touching my cooch.

Okay. Now I'm gonna die a little. [crazy face while waves of "I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I just said that" wash over me]

Okay, I'm back. So. What's gonna happen is, I want you to help me undress, then guide me to that table, and then you're gonna gather around me, and you're gonna touch me, kiss me, lick me anywhere on my body until I have as many orgasms as I can stand.

Well, except, don't touch me anally, because if anybody did that, it would probably be over too soon, and it would be a harder intensity orgasm than I want. The same for pain - no pain, because it would escalate me too fast, and I want this to last as long as possible.

So you'll use your hands and/or mouth. I got some flavored body butter that smells and tastes like cake [side note: it totally does], so if you want to rub it into me or lick it off me, feel free.

Think gentle in terms of touch. Whole fingers, palms... stroking, not tickling. If you're touching my pussy, think petting, not rubbing. [demonstrate on my arm] If your fingers are inside me, think pressing, not pumping [demonstrate on my fist wrapped around fingers]. I promise it will be enough to make me come, because this is all already very intense for me.

Afterward, after I have an orgasm, I'll probably ask you to just stay with me for a moment while I come down a bit. And, I might crash... I mean, I might have an unpleasant vertigo reaction, and I might cry. It might look like it's hard for me to go through.

But here's the important thing for you to remember: I chose this. I chose you. You are not doing something bad to me. I designed this moment to be exactly what I wanted it to be, and you are here because I trust you and I want to share this moment with you. I believe this will be exactly what I want and need it to be. I'm asking you to do this, even knowing what's going to happen. I am choosing this.

So now... go wash up, and anybody who is willing to participate, gather back here when you're done.
Of course, in reality, all of that came out less well-organized, with clarifying questions, and stuff I forgot the first time, but that was approximately what was conveyed by the time the group re-gathered.

We gathered. I said thank you. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and said, "Okay". And I felt my roommate peel my clothes off me, my lover guide me onto the table, my husband's hand over my heart.

And then...

It felt like a sea of hands. Little waves of fingers crested and broke on my skin, replaced by new waves of gentle, rolling touch. It was amazing.

I heard whispering and jostling as the group trial-and-error figured out how to fit everyone into the space - I heard later they were rotating slowly around me so everyone could have a turn, because not everyone fit all at once, with my husband and lover approximately opposite me, with a few people watching from the other room at any given time.

I realized after about three minutes, just as the rhythm was starting to settle in, that I had, spectacularly, remembered to shave my pubic hair, but neglected to shave my legs, which I said out loud in abject shame, and everyone laughed at me and my easy-to-forget peach-fuzz leg hair.

I was rubbed, stroked, pressed, caressed, kissed, licked, suckled, petted.

I heard later that a couple of people got a little overwhelmed and stepped back just to watch, crying quietly, while others continued to rotate slowly around me.

It felt like the same person was gently touching my face the whole time, but I found out later that almost everyone had touched my face. I don't know how that's possible, but it was wonderful.

I felt loved. Cherished. Adored. Supported. It felt like the hands of everyone who ever cared for me were wishing their prayers into me for my good, for my healing, to give me love.

Although it may sound hokey to say, I thought of you some of you: readers, callers, friends I've never met in person, people I would have loved to have be there with us, people who felt like they were there with us.

I could feel the love of everyone who ever loved me.

And I came, twice, I think, although it was more like one that kept rolling into another. As the orgasms washed over me, I was grabbing on to wrists I couldn't identify, pressing against fingers I couldn't distinguish, arching under hands I couldn't place.

It broke over me, and I felt the vertigo washing in behind it, and I tapped something twice and said, "Okay" and then hands all went away, as if they were all one person. "No, no, stay touching, just stay" and they all came back, together, pressing into me, as if they were all from one heart, centered by the hand which was suddenly obviously my husband's over my heart, the hand that was suddenly obviously my lover's pressing into my belly, to ground me.

I cried into all of them, letting that first ugly wave of chaotic backlash hit me. I breathed through it as best I could, tensing up, and releasing, releasing, releasing, as best I could.

Then my breath returned, a bit at a time. I'm sure it was just five minutes maybe ten, but it felt like an eternity. Nobody moved. Everybody just ... stayed.

"Okay" I said again, nodding slowly. "Okay".

Nobody moved.

I smiled a little, snuggled into someone's arm, said, "Okay, I can do this," then let my eyes blink open.

If you've never been lying on a table, surrounded by people pouring intense amounts of love into you, and looked up at all of them all at once, let me assure you: it's incredibly intense.

I believe my response was to curl into a ball, put my hands over my eyes, and say something brilliant like, "aaaaaaaa! too much! too many eyeballs! go away, ya creepers!" At which point, everyone laughed at me, hugged me, reached out for one last touch, and left me with my husband and my roommate and my lover, where they wrapped me in a blanket and cuddled me until I could crawl up one stair at a time to my bed with my husband's help.

A few people came upstairs and cuddled me, thanked me, told me what they had felt, what they had seen, then quietly disappeared again. It was lovely.

After about 2 hours, I think, and some bizarre-but-peaceful vertigo dreams (which feel more like vivid hallucinations than sleeping dreams), I had settled enough to venture back downstairs, one stair at a time, with help again, but this time, dressed in my favorite sleep t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. The group dynamics had livened up considerably, more like one of our normal parties. People were rassling and beating and doing all manners of naughtiness to each other. I floated from person to person when people weren't actively in play scenes with each other, thanking them, hugging them, trying to let the snacks and hugs bring me back to earth. I felt and sounded wasted, forgetting words and being ridiculously confused, but everyone was gentle and kind and amused with me.

We opened presents, one of which was decorated in colorful pipe cleaners, which I drunkenly wove into my hair. There were presents for both me and my roommate, and at one point, I stared at the card with my FetLife handle written on it, which is the name I introduce myself as at munches, a personal nickname of sorts, which I hear and use often among my friends, and I genuinely wondered who to give the present to because my brain could not figure out it was for me, for waaaaaay too long. The laughter when I said, "Oh! That's me!" intensified when it turned out the card was a 'getting older' card about how your memory stops working ... priceless.

In case you're curious, here's how I look when I'm brain-drunk beyond belief, with pipe cleaners in my hair, two or three hours after a vertigo crash.


It was perfect. Everyone was amazing. It was exactly what I needed it to be, and more.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, in case you were wondering, is how you become The Answer to Everything. I would have suspected that it required a giant helping of love, which it did, but who could have guessed it also needed pipe cleaners? Well, now we know.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

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.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

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. 

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

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. 

Monday, July 30, 2012

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).