Archive for June, 2012

Death Goddesses II

Posted in Death Goddesses with tags , on June 28, 2012 by sanguinesnow

Not real, banal, everyday death – not the surface details of what a funeral is like, or the personal mourning process you have probably dealt with in connection with someone you know who died before you –  but the deeper perception of it that every culture has.  The reason they all have to deify it, or at least make an elaborate frame for it.  Quick!  What goes with that?  Sex.  It’s so wrong – the two are so opposite each other, and yet it comes up often enough in mythology and in current imagery, fiction, songs, what-have-you.  It’s not just ingrained in our culture, or any one of several other cultures.  It’s deep enough and firm enough that it must have more grounding than I even know how to approach.  But I want to approach it, and besides, I have more Goddesses to write about.

As with my first entry in this series, I need to start by writing the framework – which Goddess are we talking about this time?

Lilith.  She is a Goddess that has one, or maybe more, origins and then got used and twisted around quite a bit, and lately has shown up in pop culture enough to confuse that already tangled past.  Is she even a Death Goddess?  She’s identified with the night, and sexuality, and at least obliquely with death, so I say yes.  It all fits together for me, so let’s look at it.  As usual, this is all out of my own memory and mind, so an actual ancient history scholar might point out errors.  If you can, go ahead!  And offer me some further reading while you’re commenting!

Lilith was, in Jewish tradition, the first wife of Adam.  She was made from the same earth as him, but when they woke up and figured out they had bodies Adam decided she should submit to him.  Since she was equally strong (being made of the same material), she refused, which sent Adam off whining to G-d about how the one female available wasn’t cooperating with him.  Is the major deity here male of female?  Well, G-d said, “That’s terrible!  I’ll get rid of her and make you a better woman!”  which I think settles that question.  Adam got a rib removed and formed into the perfect mate (and they lived happily ever after, The End.), while Lilith was punished by being sent screaming into some dark tumultuous Land of Exile outside of the garden.  Lucky for her, she found demons there who must have been better at meeting her needs than her ex, since she had plenty of hot sex and ended up giving birth to – depending on which story you’ve heard – a race of monsters, all the succubi and incubi, or just a whole bunch of women who can pass as human until they get sufficiently turned on and then they start getting scary ideas about empowerment and satisfaction.

But wait!  It’s not just a Jewish myth.  Oh, sure, the myth gets even more interesting when you consider that she kills babies, and also causes sexy dreams and the aftermath thereof.  She’s also a Babylonian (or Sumerian?) Goddess who just happened to get written into all that.  Before the whole ex-wife bullshit, she was your average nocturnal sex goddess type.  The one image we always see is of a shapely nude woman with wings and talons.  This may or may not be her original form.  There may or may not have been a reference to her in what later became the Bible or Tanakh that got changed to “screech owl”.  Either my memory is shaky, or the record is shaky.  Neither is important.

What do you do with a deity that has such a patchy backstory?  Is a creature that goes about mating with demons and taking advantage of human men in their sleep a sex goddess?  Is a creature who causes stillbirth and crib death a death goddess?  Why does the same myth have to have both elements, and why do they fit so well together?

It’s all to do with the night, and darkness, and death.  All are mysterious places, where people can be expected to have a sense of unease and to be less sure of things when faced with any one of them, much less all three.  Rolling them together and adding a deep vein of sexuality makes for a potent story – one which doesn’t need details.

Now that the details have run out, story time is over.  Now is the part where Sanguine picks up all the threads and weaves them into a tidy statement telling Why: Why this goddess, and Why does she fit into your mind and life?  This is the part I had no idea how to write until very recently.  Most of the above was in Draft Limbo, and I was ready to pick a different topic and come back later.  I have my brother to thank for pulling it out and making me finish it.  He’s not standing over my shoulder urging me to type faster, he just talked to me until things clicked and then left, so I’d be alone to write.  He doesn’t even know about this particular entry yet.  Here’s what you need to know about this brother of mine:  He’s a younger male version of me.  We can go months without really talking, and then have hours and hours of conversation that show us that we have eerily similar thoughts, though our experiences are worlds apart.  Over the last two days, we discussed sexuality and how it fits into our lives.  Without knowing about all the things I talked about in my last few entries, he brought up some deep problems he has with certain aspects of the kink community.  He explained how different he feels his approach and experience can sometimes be.  This led to a lot of us interrupting each other and saying “Yes!  I know what you mean!  For example . . . ” and so on.   Peppered with jokes and laughter, and outrage, and high-fives, and book recommendations it went on like that.  Today I saw the last piece drop into place as I considered an ill-thought-out comment I’d placed on one of OG’s writings, and I was ready to talk about Lilith.

First, why do we match so well and often feel apart from the very people we should have the most in common with?  Mainly, we’re both highly sexual people for whom sex is not enough.  Well, that doesn’t make a bit of sense!  It doesn’t?  Please don’t bother trying to have any kind of sex with either of us, then.  Mere sex can be boring.  We don’t want it.  There’s something beyond that we need.  That thing is what drives you so far inside yourself and then so far into the other person and then so far beyond any real, visible dimension that comparing it to mere sex is plain silly.

Another major point that came up is that we are both basically selfish.  The only reason to do anything sexual or anything that could be counted as BDSM is that we do it for ourselves.  No wonder you have trouble with partners!  That’s a terrible idea!  No, it isn’t.  He mentioned being turned off by people who get so focused on the outre aspects of their lives that that is the only thing they can talk about.  People who need attention so badly that they use their activities as a tool to gain it rather than a tool to examine and better themselves.  People who are so unsure of what they want that they allow others to control their sexuality and activities, never questioning the purpose of it all.  (He had a good example of this last one.)  “Yes!”  I said.  The alien nature of this all is that whatever these people get up to and no matter how much it may look like things we get up to, it’s a Thing that defines them or gives them an anchor, rather then being such an integral part of all they are that they have no need to consider it as separate or use it any differently from another part, like being good at maths or having a tendency to feel social anxiety.

Trying to recap those points may sound a bit murky.  And snobbish.  That section of the conversation was peppered with, “This is going to sound really elitist if I say it this way . . . ”  then  “Go on!  It’s safe to say it here, and I’m sure I’m just as bad – we’ll be elitist together!”  With us taking turns on both sides.  So let me give a personal example:

I have an entry batting around in my mind about what I recently called my Service Heart.  I’ve had it for as long as I can remember being sexually involved with other people, but only lately have called it that.  It means, in short, that if I feel the right way about someone I am just as happy baking that person a cake as I am giving a blowjob.  I will write more about it at some point, but for now I’ll just explain why it works.  Those are two odd things to compare, and they are different when I’m in the middle of them.  But with the right person, I get such a deep, peaceful satisfaction from anything I can do that I know they will enjoy that it all comes from the same source.  It is selfish – see above – because I enjoy the act of offering something so much that I am full of happiness and feel a need of mine has been met by my actions.  That is different from someone who only cooks and bakes because she’s told (and as I’ve said, if I’m ordered to do so I will rebel.  It has to come from my own desire.)  and it’s different from someone who gives out blowjobs to anyone who will acknowledge her existence and then loudly brags to all and sundry about how good she is at it.

On that note, my brother pointed out something I needed to be told explicitly.  I kept feeling bad, and apologizing for sounding like I was slagging on the BJ Queen type.  I kept saying over and over that that type of person is simply different from me, and why should I be sounding so judgmental when I’m all for whatever consenting adults want to do with each other?  He explained to me that even if some people have a deep need for attention and outside validation, recognizing that is not inherently wrong.  He went on to say that there are plenty of people who get enjoyment and satisfaction from being with those people and meeting their needs.  The example he used, since he is a man and has an angle on all that which I don’t (partly from women trying to play “I’m broken, please fix me!” with him when they really want to continue being broken so they can continue to play) is of someone who does indeed need lots of attention and will use her issues or her body to gain it.  Lots of men enjoy that type of partner because it gives them a chance to feel as if they are fixing or caring for the woman.  And they get the sex in addition to that.  If the woman hopped up one morning and said, “I feel great now!  I’m going to Law School so I can become financially independent!  I’ll see you when I have some free time!”  the dynamic would be destroyed and the man would be at a loss as to what to do with his partner.  Within that dynamic, it works and everyone is getting what they need and is happy with it, so NO, we should not be judgmental and NO we are not saying it’s wrong.  We are simply saying that we are not interested and have different wants and needs.  Sounds so simple, but I never nailed it down until he said it.

And that brings me perfectly to my ill-considered comment.  I now understand what I meant.  I didn’t say it as I was not yet equipped to, and the way I’m saying it here is not something I would confront OG with anyway, since it could never sound right.  Having had the general discussions I have lately, and taking into account all of the above, this is not another criticism.  I can stand back and let our differences wash over me, and I can look at them as they pass as I have a rock to stand on as the tide comes in. It is so hard to discuss the variations in expression when my example is a specific person who has attacked me, but the perspective I have makes me not want to fight, but to look at it and say, “I know what this is and I am stronger and more loving for knowing it.”

The writing had a lot to do with OG’s understanding of herself as being a bright flame that people cannot help but be drawn to.  Because it burns so hot, and so intensely, many of them are burned up in the fiery passion.  It burns on, an eternal flame that will always draw more in.  Now, keep in mind that this was back when I was so sure we would bond, and be friends, and that we would compliment each other beautifully as point/counterpoint.  I was trying to reach out and get to know her, to start a discussion before our next meeting, so I replied.  I said that her writing was interesting, since I am the opposite.  I am cold, and dark, and drive people away.  Not that I was moaning, just that hearing about the other side was fascinating to me. The possible discussion could have been all sorts of interesting, but she never replied.  Why?  Well, who knows, really!  But I understand it now – what I meant and where the real difference is.  Not in temperature, or brightness.

I see now that that flame, that ability to draw people in which I have seen over and over and do not possess is missing in me for a reason.  The burning, drawing, capturing and sometimes searing nature of it is a hunger for the attention.  Once a person is drawn, they are transfixed by it because it continues to burn.  That is the need I mentioned earlier.  People who enjoy feeding it will always have the fire to feed.  And me?  Cold and dark?  Do I drive people away?  Yes.  It’s dark because I have fed all the animals, cleaned up, and have finally turned the light out to rest.  It’s cold because ice is strong and solid and clear.  If you stop by my house on the glacier, I may invite you in if I like you, but I may turn you away because I have no need for a caretaker who will get in the way of my tasks.  Anyone looking for a fire to fuel will be disappointed, and look elsewhere.  As they walk away, seeking warmer climes, I will turn back to my home and settle further in to wait for the next visitor.  If he is a long time coming, I am secure in my castle of ice.

It’s the culmination of the strength I felt after last weekend.  In a larger sense, I can see that the burning flame has an important place, and that my security in the frozen world does as well.  As my brother said, as long as everyone’s happy and gets what they need, leave them to enjoy it and enjoy whatever it is that you need as you seek and find it.

In conclusion, this does illustrate why Lilith is one of mine, and why I needed to include her in this series.  Darkness, and the chill of night, and the scorn of Adam (if you believe that version) all combined to make her what she is.  If she never has a husband, if she loses a husband because he favors another that is his own flesh and bone and not a thing of chill clay breathed into life, she will stand up, strong and gloriously dark, and find demon lovers or the comfort of solitary darkness and thrive there forever.

It’s fitting that she should be such a footnote in mythology, and yet so often used as an example of what happens when a woman of power manifests as a supernatural thing.  It’s hard to see late at night, and the cool air may drive you to your fires.  Lilith does not care, and will creep into your dreams and spill semen but then slip back into another realm.  She is familiar with death, and keeps it in her hands, yet can inspire the fullest cry against mortality – the affirmation of one’s procreative powers.  She is not a maternal goddess, but is attributed with the motherhood of beautiful monsters.  Perhaps because the only ones who could want her were monsters themselves, and perhaps because her children were strange and frightening enough that they could only be called monsters by the people who would rather watch as they are “borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.”


Poly Trouble Part II: What Happens When Your Girlfriends Don’t Like Each Other?

Posted in Uncategorized on June 25, 2012 by sanguinesnow

This was all going to be a SINGLE POST, but I do tend to go on and sometimes it takes longer to untangle things than my writing schedule allows.  Which should clarify why Part I, despite the title, didn’t actually have much to do with the polyamory bits.  That could have happened in any one-on-one situation where one party was going into experimental territory without fully informing the other one, and the other was in a weird mood.  I’m going to try and keep this to the point though, since I am writing to get my own feelings cleared away, don’t want to list every specific little thing working my nerves, and have another post I’m working on that five parts to this theme will only keep me away from.

I was enthusiastic about the visit since based on one short meeting thought I liked Other Girl (OG from now on).  I thought that since I’d been reading all her posts over on Fetlife I had an idea of what was up in her life, and we’d have all sorts of things to discuss and bond over.  I had a whole list of fantasies around it, and although I’m not the sort that has to have everything exactly as I picture it but can go with unplanned quirks and total shifts in an evening, they did get my mind working.

Instead, by the end of the visit the only thing keeping me civil was the fact that I didn’t want to cause trouble (as usual) and I know Sir loves her, and has for much longer than He’s even known me, and no way was I going to put Him in the middle of a spat.  Turns out, I just plain don’t like her, and as far as I can tell it’s mutual.

After thinking it over, I do realise that part of it might just have been OG trying to assert herself, or else feeling insecure and trying to put me down as a way of dealing with it.  It could be that we’d just never get along in any setting no matter what due to personality differences.  I can see all the possibilities, and ultimately I don’t care.  That is a breakthrough, right there, but I do need more details to show why.

So, how can someone love two people and yet they don’t like each other?  In a scaled-down example, think of your friends.  If you go to a party or something and meet friends of theirs you didn’t know before, you are likely to end up being friends with those people too.  After all, you both have a mutual friend, so maybe you have some things in common that will lead to more friendship.  Ideally, I think bringing multiple partners together should be like that.  It’s not: think of those friends-of-friends you’ve met and never hit it off with.  Hell, I have friends who have OTHER friends I actively dislike.    If that can happen in platonic friendship it’s not at all surprising it should happen with sexual partners.

The things that make me wonder what is up with this dynamic in particular and why it doesn’t work are a little specific.  That’s why I’m not sure if OG’s less endearing moments had to do with plain old dislike of me, or were driven by any of the possible things I mentioned above.  For myself, I am proud to have figured out what’s wrong on my end, and to have made the decision not to continue any menage-type activities with OG in the future.  I’m chalking it up to a learning experience with no hard feelings.

The details, though . . . none of this will make sense to you, the reader, unless I do share a few.

My first hint that all might not be as I’d imagined it was after I’d been paddled very nicely.  Up til then, there had been other things going on which I enjoyed very much, but that was the moment of – look!  Red flag!  (or at least a glimpse of something that might well be one.)  The thing is, I am not a masochist by any means.  I might look vaguely like one to someone who doesn’t like any kind of hitting/cutting/piercing/whatever at all, but that’s not how it works for me.  I don’t seek out pain, and I don’t ask for it.  My whole thing with being hit/spanked/whatever is that it doesn’t actually hurt.  I once talked here about the right and wrong ways, and how if someone figures out the right way for me I will be orgasmic.  That is the entire point, for me.  The more aroused I am, the more I can take, and then it’s just endorphin loading to the point of altered states.  It’s cool with me if other people approach it differently, but that’s what it is for ME.  So, this particular paddling left me in a little endorphin puddle.  And that’s when OG decides to critique my posture and motion during it.  I replied, with my limited vocabulary, “But . . . I feel . . . GOOD.” which did not at all elucidate everything I just typed, but is a decent short version.  So she told me, “It will until He pushes you.”  Which led Him to say, apparently unaware of it being the Wrong Thing, that that was pretty hard for me.  I did go ahead and pull myself out of my interrupted basking at that!  I pointed out that I am (as I have already discussed with Him plenty of times) very uncomfortable about being compared to others.  I know I can’t be hit as hard as some people can.  I know my anatomy is different from other people’s (no padding – just muscle).  But for fucks’ sake, it’s an individual thing!  I’m not going to be happy if I have to listen to all this crap!  As long as I feel good, who cares how hard anything was or how OG postures herself during it?  I just want to have my own pleasure and then settle into a good resting period where I don’t have to worry about my audience pointing out that I’m not as good as her!  Standing up, the endorphins I mentioned said, “Hello!  Still here!  Carry on!” and I floated around the kitchen gathering snacks very slowly as I took on the challenge of remembering where htings were in my own house while essentially being drugged to the gills by my own body.  He asked if I was okay, and I said yes, meaning, “Please just let me enjoy ONE moment of this and don’t make me talk any more.”  Floaty, drifty Sanguine, and maybe all that was just a misunderstanding well-meant but wrongly delivered.

But that vein continued.  Later, OG was being spanked (lightly, mind you – I wouldn’t have been coursing with my own natural chemicals yet either) and making some sort of small talk with Him during it.  I semi-jokingly said I was surprised she could just have a normal old conversation.  (For the life of me, I don’t remember what was being said at all – just that it was incidental little things.)  She rather firmly told me that the two of them were INTELLECTUALS, so of course they’d be talking.  Too bad I’m not educated or well-read at all!  If only I could get in on that sort of thing – if only I weren’t so stupid.  Pity, that.  I never realised my tendency to so quickly limit my vocabulary to “More”, “Yes”, “Please”, and various moans and gasps as I try to drive my partner to give me the release I want ALSO meant I was Doing It Wrong.  To be fair, now, this has more to do (as far as I can tell) to differences in sub styles.  OG’s seems to be more the back-talk, playful sort while mine is not.  That’s also cool, but it doesn’t mean I can be called out for lack of intelligence in my own home.

The REAL, serious thing was after that.  And yes, I have a pile of other little things, but am only writing about the ones that I think will show why we’re just not going to be friends, ever.  I’m getting to some sort of payoff here, for the patient reader.  Again, I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I can be forgiven that since I do get deeply into those magical, amazing states at times like this and cannot file away all my comments for future reference.  I need a videographer next time.  The gist of it was, my feeling of earning things by being good and asking and serving Him as best I can.  OG replied with something about manipulating people, and how it’s easy for her to do so she does it all the time.  SERIOUS THING, I cannot state that enough.  Manipulation, by pretty much any means, is so against my ethics I knew right there I simply did not like her as a person.  I talked about this in my Three Laws posts.  This one is not just a misunderstanding, or a mere difference in sexual styles.  That is one of the short list items that tell me STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM THIS PERSON.  Period, Full Stop.  Yes, it gets her corsets and plane tickets, but I’m sticking to my ethics anyway.  People who enjoy the manipulation game, in all my experience, don’t just use it sparingly and selectively.  It permeates everything they do and all their relationships.  It’s a tool to make oneself feel more powerful, and it’s one that will never be in my arsenal.

Oh, and Kink Olympics, speaking of games.  I don’t care for them, and OG was trying to play.  No, just, no.

All that, and I did not argue, I did not make anyone uncomfortable during what was supposed to be a fun visit.  My Service Heart won (more on that term later) and I was as good as I could be.

The next morning  . . . .  Well, I almost broke.  Really broke in the sense that I was ready to start a fight that would end in OG being kicked out of my house, most likely.  It went alright, though!  She was resting before the trip back to Sir’s house, where she’s been staying, and was having a lot of pain and fatigue.  I knew she had various health problems.  She said she had pushed herself too hard the night before.  I felt sympathy at this.  I really did, although I knew I didn’t like her.  My current job involves me dealing with sick and injured people every day, and in the course of it I often have to do things to them that will hurt, or cause distress.  Every morning, before I go to work, I repeat the mantra strength and compassion over and over, since those are the two most important qualities to bring with me when I handle these people.  Not that I am left with a glowing aura of soothing energy.  Almost every day, I am cursed at or someone will try to hit me, kick me, or spit on me (dementia is not a happy state and I don’t wish it on anyone).  But almost every day someone will tell me that I am so gentle, or so kind, and thank me for my manner and my skill at what I do.  Both of those things are why I repeat those words daily.  The ones I can comfort or put at ease make me happy since I could help them a bit more than the average person in my field.  The ones I can’t, I can remember that I still have the strength not to be bothered by their actions or words, and the compassion to be just as gentle as I would with anyone else.  That’s not a digression, it’s  the main reason I was feeling sympathetic and wanted to help.  I’ve wired myself for it, no matter who the person in pain is.

But then I almost broke.  OG said that the way she had overexerted herself was by fueling Sir and I with her energy for the entire time we were together.  I am so proud of myself for walking away.  Let me make a list:

1.  I do agree, to an extent, that what people commonly refer to as “energy” can be raised and channeled for use in oneself.  I’ve experimented with it.  I also agree, to a certain extent, that two or more people – even a large group – can experience and use that sort of thing together.  It’s why religious ceremonies work, and it’s why people feel that bond sometimes after getting into certain states, not all but some of them sexual.

2.  I do NOT, however, agree with the whole new-agey sort of approach where you can just force “energy” on an unknowing or unwilling participant.  That starts to get into some of the negative things I’ve seen among those types, where they REALLY NEED to use the whole idea as a way to make themselves seem more powerful or more important.

3.  Yes, very good orgasms were had.  Nothing out of the ordinary for me, though.

4.  And so we come to this point, the one that made me almost order someone who was tired and in pain out of my house, or at least start a fight.  My thoughts:  You want to take all the credit for my pleasure?  You want to take all the credit for His pleasure?  You think you’re so much better than I am that I couldn’t possibly have felt that good or done those things myself?  FUCK YOU!  If you’re so good with “energy” why didn’t you figure out that after a while having you around was dampening my enjoyment?

My one, single, moment of outward expression came shortly after that.  Poor OG was self-assessing for the trip home, and Sir had come back.  I said, in a more sarcastic voice than I should, “She’s in pain because she thinks she was fueling us all night with her energy.”  Sarcasm was invisible, and He was sympathetic.  Not surprising, since as I noted He does love her, and didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss between us.  Or maybe He did.  We haven’t talked about it yet.  Which brings on the big wrap-up.

After all that ranting – more than I thought I’d do, but as I said I want to be done with this and move on to other writings – I am left with the firm belief that overall, that was an excellent learning experience for me.  I am happy about it!  One of the best things was that Sir, who has absolutely said that He wants me to be His primary partner, did make sure I was His focus, and the main part of the night.  I am so thankful for all the attention I got, and since this was the first time that we’d tried anything like this I have to say that it’s only made me more secure with Him.  And when I said at the beginning of this that I really don’t care about the fact that OG and I don’t like each other, or why she was acting that way, or if she’s trying to prove she’s better or if she’s uncomfortable with me being primary when I’m dumber and not as good?  (just kidding – I’m neither of those, but she seems to think I am.  Again, don’t care.)  That is great.  For me it is, since I had this whole thing about “what if I meet some of these other partners and don’t like them?”  It’s great to have gotten that out of the way, although not as I’d expected.  If I choose to stay in this, I may not like everyone around, and they may not like me.  And if it is going to work, I now know that I can accept that.  We don’t all have to be friends, and we don’t have to live in a Heinlein utopia where we can all get together for good times.  As of this writing, I do feel like Sir’s point about me being the primary partner has been fully taken in.  But I also feel that if/when it ends, I will be able to understand that it’s not because I’ve failed, but because He loves things in people that I find downright repulsive and would never want for myself.  That makes my fear of not being good enough or losing what I have with Him vanish, or at least fade under the light of my love for myself.

I’m posting this now, since I don’t have anything more to say and do want to get back to the rest of my life.  I know He reads this, and by posting it before I’ve talked with Him I am running the risk of making Him very angry or changing His feelings toward me.  But that is okay now.  If I waited and said, “please listen to me whine and then fix it!”  I would be throwing away all the important lessons from this weekend.  I am going to run into issues I couldn’t have predicted, always.  But if I can take them and learn to be stronger I will be better off, for Him, for anyone else I might be with, and most importantly for myself.

Poly Trouble, Part I: Don’t Try This At Home

Posted in Uncategorized on June 24, 2012 by sanguinesnow

I had an educational weekend.  It wasn’t at all the weekend I expected, but even if you can’t always get what you want . . . okay, I won’t start singing here, but I did get what I need.

A longtime partner of Sir’s who lives in a different state was up for a visit.  Since these visits aren’t terribly frequent, I didn’t want to intrude, but we had talked about the three of us getting together while she was here.  Now, this might sound out-of-character for me, with all the agonizing I’ve been doing on and off over polyamory in general.  I had met her at the same event I met him, though, since they were there together and I had decided I liked her.  I had all sorts of ideas about how things would work out, and was pretty excited about seeing if they could be brought to life.

Things started off pretty weird.  I had picked this particular day to begin a new self-experiment I’d had on my mind lately.  Most of the stress that has come up has left me feeling like I’m not properly shedding baggage from outside, or not allowing Sir to take the lead quite as much as I should.  I always do get to the point where I can let go, but I knew I could do better.  I decided to use some of my old meditation and self-hypnosis techniques that have been collecting dust, and spend the hour before they arrived clearing my mind and preparing it to take on whatever He offered, as an empty vessel He could fill with His own desires and needs.  Not that I would be “nothing”, or even necessarily the “good sub” I feel is often an ideal and nothing like me.  My goal was just to take a first step in seeing how I would work with Him if I concentrated on becoming receptive as my preliminary ritual rather than concentrating on pure erotic energy like I normally do.  I wouldn’t try this with anyone else, especially since I didn’t know how it would work, but I trust Him enough that however far I ended up in that space I knew He could use it well.  About ten minutes before they arrived, I got up and got dressed and just waited.  I was entirely calm, and not thinking of anything in particular.  Just relaxing, and waiting.  I didn’t realise how well I had worked on myself until they got to my house.  I greeted her, and then He held me close and kissed me and said he was happy to see me.  The contact fixed all my earlier work harder in me, and more firmly onto Him.   He could have done anything to me just then, or ordered me about and I would have been thrilled, but nothing more was offered.  Everyone settled in the living room, where I had arranged cushions and blankets.  That was when I first really noticed something was awry.  I was still calm, and waiting, but Sir was . . . out of sorts.  He was kind of babbling and hadn’t made any further move to touch me.  I couldn’t make any small talk or offer suggestions for the evening’s activities.  I started feeling odd, then more so, and then I knew that I had just backed myself into a very uncomfortable corner.    My calm receptiveness was working, but the empty vessel was being filled by its focal point – and that focal point was not in a good state, and worse, was not able to discern anything about me or my state because of it.  I should have let Him know what I was about before I did anything, but like I said, these techniques have been gathering dust.  I wasn’t sure they’d have any effect on me at all.  But the groundwork was already there, in my feelings for Him.  It was easier, and felt more natural than I’d have thought it would be on a first try.  So I’m soaking in all this agitation and I really don’t want it, but I could NOT break myself out of it.  Until I finally could.  Just enough to stop waiting and being quite so entirely open and reach for my own voice again.  I managed to say that I thought he was acting oddly, and that it was affecting me, and that I needed to go out on the porch for a minute to collect myself.  Even standing up was hard, and I was walking like I wasn’t even entirely in control of my own body.  Once outside and away from Him, I told myself over and over to close it off and take myself back.  It didn’t take too long, I suspect because I hadn’t spent all that long inside and also because I knew I’d be no use at all under that receptive semi-trance.  When I was sure I had myself back and functional, I went back in and told Him I’d explain it later.  (Which I did)

Once we had taken a break to talk alone, He told me He had been a bit nervous about this, since it was the first time and it could go wrong and all.  Also, He’d had coffee, which is a very rare thing.  I told Him what I’d done, and how surprised I was by the depth of it, and apologised for not warning Him.  So all is well there, and sorted.

I wasn’t expecting the success I had.  It was a failure only in that I hadn’t discussed it beforehand (and really, if I’d brought it up and then was no different from my typical self that would be just as bad as far as I’m concerned) and also because He couldn’t have known that showing all that chaos would have such an impact.  He’s usually very in control, and if He’d been like that I think my experience would have been much different. Even the other partner said she’d never seen Him quite like that.  I’m not sure she has any real idea of how things stand between us, but it was an interesting observation to hear from her.

I’m counting this as a success, ultimately, since I’m now overjoyed to have this new tool at my disposal.  I want to see how it works under better conditions, and how I feel after that.  I want to put myself into that state again and see how it can be used.  I want to see if it can be broken once I’m being handled, and how easily, and if it is as solid as I think it might be, what can be done with it and how different it might be.  I’m used to being brought into an open and receptive state as we start interacting, and gradually getting more into it as things intensify.  But if I can bring it on myself, and start off in that state, what then?  I want to find out.  Now I know to do it when we’re alone, but I will work with this more, and see what it does.  I could hurt myself terribly, but even if I do there will only be deeper knowledge after that.

Not taking one’s own advice is bad form, but I’m okay now!

Posted in Uncategorized on June 23, 2012 by sanguinesnow

I promised an update, so here you go, people who want to hear about the general state of my cunt!

As with the last post, lots of personal bodily things discussed.  My next post will be sexy and/or mythological, so hold out for that if you like!

I haven’t been to the doctor, and it seems that was actually a perfectly okay decision.  I don’t actually know what was up with me – possibly just some slight tearing and irritation – but I tried out a couple of things on myself and stayed off it, so to speak, for about five days.

So what are these home remedies that do not, I repeat, DO NOT replace actual medical care?  (Seriously, if my sister or mum or best friend called me up and said she was that out-of-sorts I would tell her to consult someone with more medical training than I.  Big disclaimer.)

To start with, we’ve probably all heard about cranberry juice for a UTI.  I’ve never tried this before, and it’s been years since I’ve even had to think of dealing with one.  Last one I had, there was the usual frequent urination but at the same time never feeling like you’re “done” after, and a slight irritation.  Usually, they hurt more, so I thought nothing of it and went about my business for a couple of weeks.  Then I had extreme pain in my lower back, bad enough I couldn’t stand up straight and certainly couldn’t go to work.  I did go to the doctor for that, and found out I’d left it long enough that the infection had traveled to my kidneys.  Kidney infection is in my top 10 for pain.  So, that being my last experience, I am wary now.  I still tried out cranberry juice, just to see, and who knows?  Maybe it wasn’t that at all.  By juice, I mean actual cranberry juice.  No sugar, and not the “cocktail” mixtures that are mostly grape or apple.  It’s tart.

And here’s an interesting one: yoghurt.  I eat it anyway, but I’ve found that plenty of ladies swear by internal application in addition to the regular food-type usage.  Again, NO SUGAR!  This made me giggle inwardly a bit.  You shouldn’t put anything with sugar in it inside yourself anyway (unless you’re eating it, which I find should be done sparingly.) because: yeast.  The giggle was because yeast added to sugar causes fermentation.  Which led to me thinking of people being able to literally get drunk off me.  Let’s keep that in the “poetic metaphor” realm, though.

So, daily applications of plain yoghurt, the idea being that the “good” bacteria in it would fight off any “bad” bacteria that’s trying to colonize you, like the British in India (and everywhere else; India is just shaped roughly the right way for that image to work).  I have to say, just the cool feeling is very soothing.  But also, by last night (Thursday) I felt fine and was ready to go in for a more thorough check.  Internally, I have one tiny painful spot and that’s it.  Probably a slight tear, or a much worse bruise than I’d initially realised that is taking longer than usual to heal, but overall I’m about back to my typical state. Just in time for the weekend.

So, that may or may not be handy useful information for someone.  For me, it just shows that I really shouldn’t be so hard on myself over these things.  I do hate feeling like I’ve failed, but as I’ve said I also know that that’s my own problem.  No one is actually making me feel like this, and no one is demanding anything other than what I am already capable of and, more importantly, enjoy.  Someday I’ll look back on this phase of my life, when I would gladly hurt myself trying to live up to the ideals other women have planted in my partners’ minds, and laugh at it but also feel sad that I let myself feel so miserable and treat myself so badly over it.  I want that day to be right now, but realistically it’s not, so I just have to be more careful about allowing my body to be harmed, or allowing myself to hate it.  Even if it can’t do everything someone else wants it to, I have to learn to accept that and not cry so much over not being able to live up to external standards.  Someday, my own standards will be more important.

Not taking one’s own advice is bad form.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 19, 2012 by sanguinesnow

Hello, all!  I have to get something off my chest.  It’s a valuable learning experience, or will be once I’ve managed to fit in some sleep and quiet solo reflection.  Also, I need to put in a warning here:

This is going to get gross and personal!  If you want to hear about mythology or what books I like, wait for more posts that are not  just whiny journal entries!  Whiny journal entries are all I can manage right now!

I have gone and tossed aside at least one of my all-important Laws and – I would like to think – am coincidentally not doing so great right now, physically.  Logical me says these things are unrelated.  The version of me that lives in a town that wants to be a cross between Lillydale and Denver has apparently internalised all that new-age crap about how if you have bad thoughts they will manifest physically.  Fight it out, and for the record I’m rooting for you, Logical Side!  Either way, I am in at least mild pain.  Something is not right with my cunt, and I’m also ignoring my usual advice of “Go to the doctor immediately!”  (Sorry, logical side.)  Flipping through everything I’ve ever had going on before, I’m wavering between “UTI” and “BV” with a reserve possibility of “Bad energy”.  I’m also self-treating at the moment, partly because I’m busy and partly because the opportunity to conduct a science experiment involving home remedies just fell into my lap (yes, I know . . . ).  Results later.

So, apart from being gross and a good example of What Not To Do, why am I sharing this here?  I feel terrible about not following my own ideals and need to point out a significant example of Me Fucking Up.  I’ve been really angry with my anatomy lately.  If I were good about keeping everything I’d written in mind, I would be much nicer to myself and accept myself as I am.  Instead, I have singled out a couple of things that I may not be physically able to do but which are wanted and built up tonnes of anger around my not being able to fulfill wants.  Instead, I have chosen to shut down pain responses on multiple occasions lately rather than paying attention to them immediately.  I can’t totally ignore pain, but I’m very good at ignoring it far beyond what any sensible person would.  See, I tend to be driven.  And after bringing up being concerned about just not being good enough I was told that it would be impossible to do it all anyway, so it’s fine.  Instead of being a comfort, this is read as a challenge.  Which is why I’m venting here instead of continuing that conversation.  I know that one of the points to being non-monogamous is that as soon as one person can’t do any given thing, five others can.  And I know that shouldn’t matter, and I know that after being reassured I should relax instead of being harder on myself, but what sounds like reassurance to one person sounds like being written off as a failure to another.  I hate being that other, but there you are.  I cannot accept that in myself, especially now.

Since I have singled out that this is an ongoing problem of mine (not health blips, but my general problem with not accepting failure.) I am seriously wondering today if I should have another go with the mental health system.  I’d rather not, since I have not had good experiences to date, and finding someone I could say “My boyfriend tells me his other girlfriends can all do X, Y, and Z and I can only manage X.  Why am I so mean to him about telling me these things?” to might be problematic.  Maybe they would say I’m not cut out for being part of an ensemble cast.  Maybe I would have to agree eventually and I’m really just afraid of coming around to that, which would mean ULTIMATE failure.  I’m a bit of a mess over just considering the whole process.

I just want to get better as soon as I can, and then I want to be able to enjoy my body again without having lingering hatred for it tinting everything I should be enjoying.  Once those feelings are out, it’s so hard to put them away again I’m not even sure how to get it done.  My drive is so useful in work and school, but applying it to anything else is clearly not healthy.  Being told not to worry about it doesn’t help, and telling myself not to worry about it only helps until the next snag.  Knowing that, I am often bracing myself for that next snag even when I don’t realise I’m doing so.  I’m off to try out another round of treatment on myself.  Once I’m better, I’ll report back, but even then my usual advice still stands.  Unless you’re me, go see a doctor as soon as you’re in pain.  If you’re me, shut off the pain to go to work and school then write about it, then shut it down again.


Posted in Uncategorized on June 18, 2012 by sanguinesnow

As of right now I feel like I’ve been working on things for school for about 14 hours, and am much too fried to write anything clever, and am also feeling decidedly unsexy.  But wait!  There’s post inspiration in my mailbox!  Must discuss! 

I’m trying out one more product on my scars before I give up.  I’ve been through Mederma and another product that had a dubious name like “scar-away” or some such.  Now I’ve moved on to silicone pads that supposedly will fade even old scars if you wear them 12 hours a day for a few months.  I’ve also proven that I’m gullible enough to buy beauty products that have good reviews on Amazon, no matter how bad my luck may have been in the past.

Those of you who have seen me in real life are wondering why I’m so self-conscious, probably because you’re all trying to remember if my face is disfigured or if I’m too shy to wear a bikini and are drawing a blank.  Either that, or you’re pounding your fists saying “Finally!  Sanguine’s going to fix them damn ugly scars!”  I prefer to imagine the former. 

So, what is the big deal here?  Why would a sensible person buy more crap like that when she could spend that money on books and whiskey?  All my surgeries have been through existing orifices, so no scars there.  I’ve never been in a bad accident, and I’ve never been one to self-harm.  Yet, I have several small scars in various places.  My knees are pretty well covered from an active childhood, but I don’t mind that.  One is from falling out of a tree after I was well beyond childhood (I’d like to note here that if you fall out of a tree after the photographer’s gotten some good shots of you draped sylph-like along a limb, you are still a perfectly good model.)

All the others are from someone else.  Most faded to invisibility fairly quickly.  Others are tattooed over, and others are never visible so long as I’m dressed.  A few stand out clearly on my arms.  Why the arms?  I’d like to know, too, but I’m not going to track down someone I never want to see again just to ask, “Hey!  Why did you fail to consider my future cosmetic concerns?”  My general feeling has shifted quite a bit.  At the time, I loved being marked by him and was proud of them all.  After everything had turned too bad to salvage, I hated them and wanted them gone more than anything.  Later, I was indifferent, and later still I regained a bit of pride in having survived as well as I did and felt I’d earned a small reminder of coming through that fight alive.  Now I get annoyed.

The placement, combined with, I don’t know, Oprah or whoever making a big thing about “Young girls cut themselves!  Everyone look at this epidemic and feel pity combined with moral superiority!” has made me self-conscious.  Particularly so when plenty of people feel entitled to say something.  I’m not making light of the fact that some people actually do self-harm for psychologically unhealthy reasons here, but it’s the same feeling I got when I was much thinner as a teenager and got fake concern about having an eating disorder.   It’s a trendy issue, and lots of people really want to see some poor girl so they can regard her as they would a sideshow exhibit; they’re not bringing it up because they actually have a concern and want to help make the world better for young women.  

Even people who should know better get stupid.  Someone asked about one of the more hidden ones once, and silly me thought it was okay to say it was from . . .  someone else.  The person asking gave a knowing nod and casually said, “Oh, knife play!”  Nice try, person who has only fallen further in my estimation since then!  Sometimes, even those of us who seem really slutty have actual relationships.  Sometimes those relationships involve some intense or unusual expressions of love.  Sometimes, assuming the girl with the scar has been at the kink buffet for a casual sampling of Things That Can Be Done To Her is WAY off the mark. But I digress.

I’m tired of carrying around marks that can be publicly viewed when those marks are from an emotionally-charged experience that I cannot explain to anyone who asks.  I’m tired of people asking. 

So with that, I’m starting off this final experiment.  Wish me luck.  And if you’re a sanguinary type yourself?  Fine, carry on, just stay away from the arms.

In Which I Am Taken By Surprise . . . .

Posted in Uncategorized on June 17, 2012 by sanguinesnow

One of the many, many things I like about my mind and how it works is that once I think I have everything in check, it throws new and exciting things out at me.  Never a dull moment!  Okay, it can get frustrating or tiring now and then, but it also means I don’t really understand what it’s like to be bored.

Yesterday, I went down to see Sir.  Since my Angst!  Sturm und Drang! posts, we’ve talked a lot about things bothering me, and why, and how I can be happier.  The short version is, since we can talk about these more difficult less fun things like adults are supposedly able to, I have had a safe place to work out what exactly is bothering me, and also be reassured that I am indeed important enough to deserve all His consideration and attention when I honestly have something I need.  Last weekend we had gone out to a party at a club where I hit a bit of a snag dealing with someone else, and I got to see all this in action.  I was able to talk about what was bothering me, and come up with ways of dealing with it, then ask for guidance once I’d done that work.  Given that, I was feeling good about this weekend; it would all be nice and easy.  Except, even when I am genuinely happy I’m still not nice and easy.  Surprise!

I knew that since we had other things to do, this visit would not involve me being locked up in His house all day having unspeakable things done to me.  Last night, He had a dance event and we went out after that with some friends for drinks.  I’d met most of them before, and I like His friends.  Good sign.  Between sake and sashimi, and hanging out with a more abbreviated group at someone’s house, I related the Fun Sanguine Who Is Drinking With Friends version of some of my past relationships.  (That’s the version that is more sarcastic and doesn’t involve crying.  The other version is in previous posts here.)

When Sir took me home, I was not thinking of any of the evening’s conversation at all.  I was all ready for the short, we-have-to-get-up-and-help-people-move-tomorrow-but-we’re-both-pretty-keyed-up bout of sexiness that was going to end the night.  I didn’t have any particular plans and knew we didn’t have the time or energy to construct a Serious Business marathon scene, but, well, as I’ve mentioned I do like Him.  Very Much.  Fine by me to just see how He was feeling and enjoy whatever came of it.

Here’s the thing about how I work in this rare and very particular sort of dynamic as opposed to any other I’ve known:  If I can have a relationship I feel safe in combined with free rein on my darker side, I will thrive in a way that brings out parts of me that are otherwise locked away from anyone’s view.  Sure, I get hurt and have to deal with some nasty aftermath when a casual encounter goes wrong for me.  The difference is, they never see or hear about what’s going on in my mind.  It’s mine alone to deal with.  On the other hand, a casual encounter that goes right is still just a casual encounter.  Since my naughtier side is so tied in with my deeper hidden emotional side, these things can never satisfy me the way I want.  On the other other hand, non-kinky relationships don’t bring up this intensity of feeling or this openness so quickly.  It’s so easy to have satisfying normal sex, but a really satisfying encounter of the other sort will require me to let down barriers not just in my mind, but in a way that is visible to my partner.  And if He can recognise that and accept it, I may end up not having to think up a fake name for writing purposes and just refer to Him as Sir.

Which is what I was getting to here – yes, another post where I am going to be silly and girly about Him for a moment.  I was talking about last night . . . .

Since we don’t see each other that much, and I tend to spend a lot of quality time with inanimate objects, I had brought along a few new tools of mine so I could show Sir what I’d been up to on my own.  This led to Him replacing said tools, and doing a very impressive job of it, and me being pushed far past any kind of self-control.  This is one of the things I love.  Being able to hand over control of myself to another person is so difficult, and so scary, but when I can do it and then be pushed harder and farther than I ever could push myself I find a deep peace mixed with the strength to face anything my psyche can dig up.  (And that is why I prefer to have an emotional connection to whoever might be hitting/choking/restraining me.)

I had been fucked in various ways, and pinned down, and told sweet filthy things, and then, out of some no-man’s land inside my skull, I heard myself say, “Hit my face!”  And as soon as I felt it, “Again!  More!  Harder!”  At the time, I was absolutely not thinking anything.  I didn’t stop to question the origin or purpose of this – I was immediately in a place where I was asking for something entirely unexpected that I never fantasize about and wouldn’t have thought I’d want.  And that place was full of a bliss so entire that it ate me up and kept going until all my muscles gave out and I was completely used up.  And that brought on waves of euphoric giggles.  And then finally it got into my mind that I was at a height unusual even for me, simply because I had been able to let my own brain surprise me and went along with it.

Normally, like, if you stopped me on the street or even if you were discussing my wants and needs and limits with me, I would never ask for any such thing.  But I had, and Sir is so good at watching my reactions and reading my state and handling himself that he had hit me in the face repeatedly, and made me feel better than I typically would from anything I know I like.  Just hard enough, and timed perfectly, and there I am at the end of it quivering and thankful for His hand.

If you can’t guess why this was such a surprise to me, I’ll lay it out for you:  I have been hit that way before.  I have flinched at sudden movements toward me instinctively as a result.  It has never been at all erotic, and I have never wanted it, and it has always left me hating myself.  It was the first step in a long series of violent and degrading things that were done to me that ended in hospital visits, concussions, and broken bones.  Sir knows this.  He also knows that I have spent a long time and a great deal of energy putting myself back together since then.  Why He went along with me, I don’t know.  Maybe He knew He could do it in a way that wouldn’t actually hurt, so I could feel every blow and know they were coming from someone who would never want to injure my body or harm my spirit, and come out of it stronger since I had faced all the fear left in me and taken that hand on me as a loving force to replace the hate left over from the last man to hit me that way.  Maybe there was something so sure in my voice that communicated a need so deep and real that He didn’t have to think about anything beyond taking my need and bending it to His own use.  I have no idea. I only know that something that would normally be negative and terrifying turned into something beautiful and fulfilling.

Once I was able to move again, and speak in complete sentences, we sat on the porch so I could talk about it a bit.  His typical approach when He can tell I’m exhausted and have something on my mind is to hold me and listen.  I was still giddy and had serious thoughts about what had just happened to me, but the giddiness made those serious thoughts easy to handle.  I said that I had read some notes from a mutual friend of ours about using rape scenes to work through an actual rape.  I said that I might understand that a bit more now, but was still put off by it.  I said that I hoped I would never find myself wanting to take the same path as her, but that if I did I would be less upset by it than I’d thought.  But I still didn’t want that to happen.  But how could I predict what would happen, since I would never have expected tonight’s surprise?  And what if this came up in my mind, and out of my mouth, again?  He (The ex, the one who abused me so badly) figured out pretty quickly that the fastest way to knock me unconscious was a blow to the temple.  What if I wanted that?  That is THE MOST DANGEROUS place to hit someone in the skull, and Sir, please never hit me there, no matter what I say.  And why did I say that in the first place?  And why did it feel so good?  Everything I ask for is something I fantasize about, or have already experienced and know I like, except that.  Why do I feel so good right now?  Oh, except, once I did watch a video where the heroine got hit in the face over and over and I found it so hot because of the way the man was treating her, in a loving and controlled way, and also she was so clearly aroused by his handling of her.  I wondered why I enjoyed watching it so much, since I usually hate seeing that sort of thing in videos.  You’re like that, though, You can handle me as roughly as anyone has ever been able to but at the same time You can make me the happiest, luckiest girl in the world since all that roughness is just what I need and You know how to do it . . . .

And so on.  Sir let me talk about this, and let me express my confusion through the veil of bliss I was wrapped up in.  I decided I was ready for bed, sure that whatever might have happened and whatever might happen next, I would be able to enjoy it if it was good for me, or take care of it in a more constructive way if it was at all bad.

That’s it.  I might not ever want that again.  I may have needed to feel it just that one time to clear out some of my old pain and affirm Sir’s place as someone to look after me and teach me that I can let myself go safely and then find nothing but joy on the other side.

It was a surprise, and I’m not used to that kind of surprise nor the intensity of giving it that freedom of expression.  It’s only been 24 hours or so  since then, so there may be more that’ll come to me as time creates distance from His bed and His hand.  Right now, though?  I am happy, and safe, and still have no idea why I needed it or why He gave it to me.  None of that matters right now, since I have everything I need.  I’m not sure I ever need to know why.