Jackdaws In Flight

I rarely get a chance to sit and just write.  Most of the time, adulting just gets in the way.  Things just seem to conspire to stop me getting any work done on my stories.

Today, after tucking my partner in with one of her floofy teddy bears, I had a moment in which there was nothing else needed doing.  So I made a tea (chai with some extra Cayenne Pepper), and sat down to do some writing.  After chatting with some friends on Twitch (yes, I am usually one of the things conspiring to stop me getting any work done as well), I actually opened up Libre Office and started to write.

I have a great deal of books locked up inside my brain, and it usually takes a great deal of effort to eek out what little progress I can.  Sorting through the mess and interconnected ideas that swim through my brain at all times is hard work.  Partly due to my Dyslexia, and partly due to my inability to single track any train of thought from the mass of concurrent ideas swimming through my brain at any one time.  I have said this before, but I will say it again, Parallel Processing is NOT all that useful with a dyslexic brain that can barely process that Up is Up, and Down is Down... I still have to wear my watch on my left hand so that I remember what is left and what is right (yes, I look at my hands each and every time, and have to remember that my watch is always on the left... every damn time).

This morning however, I was in a state of flow.  I don't know if it was the music I was listening to, the tea being particularly spicy, or my general lack of sleep, but everything just flowed from the brain to the screen.  There was no 'directing' by me, there was no 'editing' or 'overthinking' by me.  I just got on with getting what changes needed done, and what new content needed adding in.  I don't even remember doing it to be honest... my eyes feel like they have been open for three hours and I have not blinked once...  I didn't even notice the time fly by at all... I only really realised I had been at this for a few hours when my bladder said "Oi! Dipshit! You Need A Toilet Break! Either that or you are going to need to clean the damn sofa!"... this broke my flow of course, but after I returned from the forced bathroom break, I started to read over what I had written, the changes I made, and I sat there crying for a moment...

It did not feel like I wrote it, I was hooked, I wanted to keep reading... but it stopped... I don't know what creature took over my body for those few hours, but could you kindly come back and finish the story please... I really enjoyed it...  I mean, it was one of the stories I have locked up in my brain, and it went exactly how I expected it to... but the wording, the phrasing, the quality of the work was WAY above my usual.  It usually takes me DAYS and WEEKS to get something even half that good... Damn you Bladder for breaking my concentration!

I wish that I could induce this feeling, this Flow State, at will.  I feel I would get so much more work done than I do.

Do you ever get something similar when you are doing something?

It can be work, exercise, creativity, a really strong scene with whips and... well.. you get my drift, hell, it can even be a good gaming session... you just lose track of everything, something takes a hold, and you just go with it, nothing matters, none of the usual interruptions from your brain, no "You are doing it all wrong" moments, no "You will never succeed"... Just... Flow.  Powerful, endless (till your body breaks you out of it) Flow.

Here is to everyone getting something done today, even if its just breathing;

You did well!

I salute you!

I am proud of the random person you are! ((to me... you are not random to you... just go with me on this... ACCEPT MY RANDOM COMPLIMENTS))

Anyway, as you can see, the multitude of ideas have come flooding back, and now I am going to go and lay down, and hope that whatever creature inhabited my body earlier didn't lose patience and comes back to finish the story...

I am likely not alone in having spent my entire life wearing different masks for different people. 

At school I found it easier to pretend that I was stupid, I found it just made life easier if I melted into the crowd.  At university, I similarly pretended to be "average", only doing enough to pass with a comfortable margin.

Around people my own age, I always appeared self confident but less than those around me.  In front of those older, I was dutiful, well spoken, and courteous.  To those younger, I kept them at arms length, never letting them near me. 

When out and about where nobody knows me, I am still constantly watching for threats, changing my gait, my stature, and how direct I am to suit.  If I see a group of "tough guys", I walk at them, through them, just enough so they see a confident person, but not enough to notice me.  I am just noticeable enough to move out of the way of, and just forgettable enough to pay no notice.

When at work, I was the geek, the unassuming, the one that kept his head down, just to get through the day.

My family still to this day see me as a "teller of wild tales", a joke, someone not expected to do well, and someone who couldn't possibly know anything of note or worth.  I'm to be pitied, to be talked over, but not to, to be ignored... they don't, or can't, see me.  I used to be angry that I had done such a good job, that they saw me like that.  Now, I just don't care enough to contradict their false image.  I have the only family I care about.  Everyone else is just a genetic neighbour.

From a kink perspective, I have been submissive when all I wanted was to dominate, I have been "vanilla" when secretly I'm spicy.  I have pretended to be something I am simply not so many times, just to fit in, or to not scare someone away that I thought cared or loved me... but how could they, they never met me, just the mask I allowed them to see.

It was not until I met my wife that I felt safe enough to be me. But, I had spent so long wearing other faces, being the thing people felt most comfortable around, being... forgettable, I have taken years to refind me.  I still rediscover things about myself nearly daily.

I'm sure we all wear faces, masks, or act a certain way for others.  Whether it's appearing respectable at work, hiding our kinky nature from lovers we don't trust yet, or pretending to not know the answers to the questions on University Challenge in front of our school mates.  I'm sure we all fake who we are at some point just to fit in.

I also grew up around a very volatile situation. Arguments, verbal, psychological and physical violence, situations I would not put my worst enemies through... OK maybe a few of them I would... but the point is, I got very good at reading people from a young age... I had to, it was survival.  The area I grew up in was the local authorities dumping grounds for the dregs of society, from paedophiles to sex offenders, from layabouts to drug dealers, from the poorest most desperate to the predators who preyed upon them. There were few in that area who weren't the cause of strife, or broken from it.  So, I got very good at reading the room.

I also got very good at seeing beneath the masks people wore.  The "tough" girl down the road whose parents had drilled into her the "Might Makes Right" attitude, who secretly was terrified of her shadow, and wanted nothing more than to draw.  The "pretty boy", whose parents thought butter couldn't melt in his mouth, but used to abuse animals, torture other kids, and ended up in prison for trying to murder someone's granny for her pension.  The Art teacher who liked to show off how good he was at everything, how amazing his art was, how funny he was, but secretly knew that even the worst artists in the area had more talent and imagination in their little finger than he had in his entire life, so used his position of power to crush the hopes and dreams of the children he taught cause he was a deeply petty and childish man terrified of the children around him.  The "smart" girl who always stuck her hand up in class to show off how intelligent she was, to show everyone how special she must be, and always offered to help the teachers out, but in reality was just as lost as those she looked down on, was just as average as everyone else was, and would snear and huff whenever anyone else got the answers she could not.

I saw them all, and I pitied them.  I knew they were all just acting, I saw the real them occasionally, I saw the cracks, and I wished we could all just be ourselves.

I try now to not wear the faces people expect, even when streaming on Twitch, I try to be authentically me.  Sure, there are still things I keep between me and those I love, those I truly love, but, I try to be me as much as I can be now.  

I don't do it for any other reason than to try and show people that it is the Real You that matters.  The Real You is who people need to see.  If we could all just be ourselves, relationships would be easier, life would be simpler.

We are not as perfect as we want others to see us as, nobody is, but our imperfections are what make us beautiful.  Our individuality is what makes us special. 

I'm not saying "Release the Kinky Kraken!" or "Let Loose The Gimps Of War!"... as amusing as that might be... I understand that there's a time and a place for extra curricular activities, but please, be honest with yourself while wearing your masks, both hypothetical and literal.  Remember who you truly are, and accept yourself for it.  Be your broken, beautiful self cause nobody else will be... excluding any movies made based on your life that is... and even then, break the damn mold!

I am so grateful to my wife and those that matter for loving this broken man despite his many faces, cause he's not pretty, he's not smart, but he does love hard, and gives great hugs and head pats... allegedly...

I was listening to In This Moment earlier tonight, and ended up singing along like a loon.

Fighter

Born In Flames

Both great songs, and not my usual heavy metal stuffs or world folk... sometimes you just need a singing session.

What songs get you right in your gut, and force you to sing along with them?

Thank you for the times when you lift me up,

For the times when you bring the smiles and fill my cup,

Thank you for helping to lighten my minds load,

For the times you have joined me on the lonely road.

Thank you for always being there for me,

For giving me the love and allowing me to be free,

Thank you for the times when you both talked,

For seeing my darkness and not out the door walked.

Thank you for accepting me for the broken fool I am,

For being sweeter and cuter than a fleecy lamb,

Thank you for being nothing but you,

For being the most supportive amazingly true.

You bring me smiles and happiness from above,

You are the angels of my heart, and you all I do love.

Happy Valentines all!

When did you discover the nature of your relationships?  When did you discover you were not only vanilla?

For me, I decided very early on that Polyamory was for me, I was 5 to be exact.  That may seem quite young, but pull up a chair (human or otherwise) or a comfy lap/pillow, and let me regale you with stories old (at least for me).

My parental units had taken us to a 5 days long Beer festival (by the fifth day, people were looking a little worse for wear), and were running a stall about environmentalism (this was in the 1980's so you can imagine the scenes and looks we got in an ultra conservative area).  I was pretty much left to my own devices, and being the precocious and precarious little shi... I mean child that I was, I would say hello to each and everyone who would listen, and would make friends with anyone I felt drawn to.  There was this girl, about my age, who was camping (glamping to be fair, though that wasn't a word back then) with her slightly older sister in a camper van that her parents had brought for them to sleep in, and I spend the day playing and doing all the things 5 year olds do (this was a rare occurrence for me) including and not limited to petty theft, role play, and drawing on everything we could get our hands on (is there a statute of limitations on drawing on a white van with blue crayon?).  The day was getting late, and my parents cooked for us all (including her parents), and the little girl asked if I could sleep over with her.

That night I went to sleep surrounded by her, and her older sister.  I woke, looking about me, and the only feeling I had was "this is exactly how it should be".  This feeling never faded from my memory, but I could not put into words what it was about that moment that felt Right. 

It was not until many moons later that I finally was able to put that feeling into words. 

For context, there are three people in this world that I have fallen head over heels in love with, my partner and centre, a dear friend I have known for 23 years, and someone we met fairly recently.  I love hard and quick (insert any "that's what she said" jokes you want, but I don't mean in that way... at least this time).  I know how I feel about people incredibly quickly, and if I fall for them, I fall hard.  I also accept that this is not a normal way of feeling, so never try to act upon it unless I know the other person feels the same.  The happiest I have ever been has been when two of those three people are just lost in conversation (this has happened a few times with different combinations of the three), and I get to see them happy, laughing, and unaware of anything around them but the conversation they are lost in.  I feel like I am home.  Like the world is right.  I feel like this is exactly how it should be.

We have had partners join us in the past, and while the sex was always very enjoyable, it was not something that felt right from a relationship perspective.  It felt like sex always does; fleeting, nice, stress relief, something fun to pass the time with friends (Again, I know this is not how most see sex, but this is me remember, and I am weird), messy, and often something that is just to help cement friendships or help a friend through a rough patch.  I have always seen sex as something different to making love.  Sex is just the physical release of endorphins (or endolphins as I first wrote it "ak ak ak ak"), no different from skydiving or playing a video game, just something more in-depth.  Sex is something to be enjoyed in the moment, something to be done with consenting adults, and includes or doesn't include kinky activities (as kink doesn't have to include sex for me). 

Making love however is something deeply personal, something deeply intimate, something where the souls of those taking part touch, meld, and become one just for that briefest of moments.  I also do not think that making love needs to have sex involved (though a lot of touching does happen, just through the nature of it).  A good cuddle puddle can be love making, similarly a really good chat around a fire in the late of night, snuggled up next to each other, drinking hot chocolate, and just letting the world slip by is love making to me.  A really good kink session where each person is left feeling complete, happy, and cared for can also be love making... I am very easily distracted, and this is definitely something for another post... but as context I guess it works.

What I am trying to say, is that it was not until much later in life that I discovered what Polyamory was.  Once we did, we researched it... extensively.  We looked into all of the different dynamics that are involved, all of the pro's and con's, all of the intricacies and challenges that would be involved, and upon talking about it at length, both me and my partner decided on our form of Polyamory.  It was at this point we went around declaring it to one and all of our friends like it was some form of revelation from the gods... some were not surprised, some were confused, but thankfully all of our close friends just accepted it as our weird quirky nature.  There are people we have not told about this, as we know they would not understand. But for the most part, we are incredibly open and honest about our relationship with other people, and we communicate amongst ourselves about everything too, so it works for us.  Our form of polyamory fit what we sought after, what we thought of as Right

In terms of when did I discover I was not only Vanilla?  Honestly, that is not something I can remember as a distinct event or moment, but the first time I was able to put a title to my preferred role was fairly recent.  I had always been aware that I enjoyed playing with peoples pleasures, teasing, bringing people to the brink, and generally being a basta... I mean tease.  My first real sexual encounter was a very prolonged event and I spent the whole time bringing my friend to climax and back.  For every sexual encounter after that, I just found my own sexual release surplus to requirements as long as my partner/s were in the throws of pleasure.  It wasn't until fairly recently (about 5 years ago) that I finally found out what it was that I could call my preferences, I am a Pleasure Dom.  I have always known that I love Domination, I love being in control (again, perceived, the real power always lies with the sub), I am always happier being a sadist (small s) too.  Something about being in control just feels like my jam (blackcurrant if you are wondering).  I have tried being a sub, I have tried being a masochist, but I just prefer the other side, though I am willing to venture outside of my comfort zone for others enjoyment... as long as ultimately I am able to control the pleasure being administered.  I love seeing people reach the edge of climax, the edge of release... then I withhold that... for a time at least (depending on their limits), and if left to my own devices would keep that up for years and years and year, leaving the poor dearheart a puddle laying in my arms unable to move or utter a word... before I understood how tiring orgasms could be, my first real sexual encounter left my friend suffering from exhaustion and she had to go to the hospital for electrolytes and hydration... I have since adjusted my aftercare to include appropriate safety measures.  This is not a Flex but more of a Cautionary Tale for those unaware of how brutal orgasms can be (they are called Little Deaths in French for a reason).

When did you find your role, your preferences?  Was it an "Always there" or was it a "Revelatory" moment?  I cannot honestly say that what I am is weird or strange as it has always been with me, always been my nature.  I tend to lead from the front, I tend to enjoy seeing others happy (even if I am not myself), and I always tended to shape and control the conversations around me without meaning to... really, I try not to, but I always end up talking WAY more than anyone else... it's a problem, but does help with my hobby of streaming apparently...

What was the point of this? I have no idea, I forgot what I was going to say and where I was going about half way through... anyway, I hope you are having a wonderful, consensual, day.

There are days when feeling numb is the best you can hope for, when the blankness of nothing seems like a break in the storm.  And then there are days like today; overwhelmed by every slight sensation, every slight noise, every single thought sends you on a deepening spiral downwards towards the abyss of darkness that threatens to swallow your very being, and you end up longing for that numbness.

Spike Milligan once said:

"Depression is a gift and a curse.  I get the pain much worse than anybody else, but I see a sunrise much more beautiful than anybody else"

I don't agree about the 'Anybody Else' part, but I get the sentiment. 

Pain is subjective, one persons pain maybe another's pleasure, but it doesn't make that pain any less felt or any less severe, and vice versa too, just cause you don't like something for the pain it causes, does not mean that the heights of pleasure that elicits in others is lessened by your experiences.

I was abused as a child, multiple times, by both men and women.  Does this make me special? No, it was unfortunately all too common an occurrence.  This happened over 30 years ago, but the ingrained fears, feelings, and guilt still haunt me to this day.  As such, I am hyper focused on the idea of Consent, so for me, CNC just is not a thing I ever want anything to do with, but that does not make CNC a bad thing.  For some, that release, that feeling of helplessness can both be sexy, and it can be cathartic.  Giving up the control that was taken from me by force as a child is not something I can do, hence why I prefer to top or Dom.  As a Dominant however, I understand that the control I wield is purely illusory, all the control lies with my sub/s.  Once that safe word or action is uttered, I must stop, I need to stop.  I cannot put someone else through what I, and so many of the people I know, went through.  I digress.

Emotions can feel like the sharp edge of a rusty red hot blade, forcing it's way into your chest, cutting into your mind and soul like the claws of a cat whose walked in lemon juice.  But, Emotions can also sneak up on you like said cat, slowly move onto your lap, snuggling down, and planting itself into your soul before you even realise it is there.  Neither of these is any worse or any better than the other.  The sudden rush of emotion can be enjoyable, as with love, kindness, happiness, or wonder, but it can also equally be devastating or destroying, as with love, kindness, happiness or wonder.  Equally, the slow creep, the "I didn't notice till now" overwhelming force of emotions that just sneak into your head like a thief in the night can be both enjoyable, devastating, or downright destroying.

Sometimes, feelings, sensations, and trauma get the better of us.  In those moments, we all need a safe word... if only life knew the meaning of consent.

This is when we need that something, that someone, that place we can go, to unload, to break the cycle, to ease those feelings.  Sometimes, we need someone to tell us we are being overwhelmed by those feelings, sometimes we don't notice that damn cat slipping onto the keyboa;alskdjhfipfsda;hsdfa;klfds;jklfdsa;kljfsda;kl;kl;lkj;

Damnit...

If you can be anything in this world, be a dragon.

I don't mean the fire breathing, scaley dragons of the western or the feathered wind spirits of eastern myth and legends, though obviously if that's an option, don't turn it down.

I mean be the Fiercely protective, wall of magical energy and feat of nature (no, not feet of nature, don't get excited you kinky bunch... or do, your choice) you can be.

When you walk in the room, be proud of who you are, walk with the energy of a being who knows that there's nobody quite like you.

Be a little selfish at times, only a little, but put your needs at least on the same pedestal as others, not in the basement gathering dust, forgotten and covered in cobwebs and regret.

Take to the skies in flights of fancy when you are able, just don't lose who you are. Let your imagination go wild, read that book you liked the cover of, watch that silly porno that just made you giggle at the thought of, buy that toy that just seemed a little silly, or write that blog post about being a dragon that's been on your mind for a few days... OK you don't have to do the last one if you don't want...

Live whatever life you have left being sure that in your own way, you lived it.

We may not have the money, the lovers, or the stuff we want, but we can always have the hopes, dreams, and if you're lucky, the memories to carry us into the next great adventure.

Be a dragon, gather that hoard of life lived, sit atop it, and be happy knowing it's often better to regret doing something than not (unless it hurts others in a non-consensual manner... don't do that).

Unless you can be an actual dragon... then obviously, be an actual dragon...

As most of you (literally all but one of you) don't know me, who I am, or why I am going over seriously old and out of date posts and blogs, I thought it important to write a little why I am consequently 'zombie'ing threads...

Me and my wife are currently in the process of reading through a very dear friends blog posts going back as far as they are kept (I don't know if like other sites they are deleted here and eventually disappear, or if they are kept for ever, as we are VERY new to this site).  We wanted to know where she came from, what makes her tick, the experiences that have shaped her, what makes her... her, without her having to rehash, and reopen old wounds/experiences.

Unfortunately, as I am deeply dyslexic and have the memory of a dyslexic geriatric goldfish with severe head trauma and a chronically poor memory even for a goldfish, I have to "Like" each post that I have finished and read through the comments of... I appreciate that this is DEEPLY annoying, and I wish there was a "Secret Like" button, that simply showed you that you have read it so it does not annoy people with notifications for things from 4+ years ago (I get annoyed with notifications from 5 minutes ago, let alone years).

So, I unreservedly apologise...

Unfortunately, I cannot stop doing it... not unless one of you wants to come here, live with us for a few weeks while I read through each post, and reminds me when I have already read through one... fair warning, it would not be as fun as that sounds... and that sounds really damn boring.

So, I will take no offence for anyone blocking me, ignoring me, or otherwise getting annoyed with me... It is, as I say, an unfortunate side effect of my brain working on several hundred things at once, all of the time... "parallel processing is fun" they said, "it will improve your productivity" they said, "it totally won't ruin each and every interaction that you ever have" they said... next time someone offers to reincarnate you into a being, make sure it's one with a one track mind.

I'm always lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions, my only guide are those few stars I see above. Those few twinkling examples of love, beauty, and strength that guide my ship through the tumultuous waters of life.

Sometimes storms fill my skies, and sharp rocks jut out into those stormy waters, threatening to dash my little ship to pieces like so many before me.

But, as day turns to night, and the ever marching ticking of time, these storms too must pass. As they do, and the clear night skies open up with beautiful auroras and those ever guiding stars return, I am reminded that we weather these storms so that we can gaze upon the beauty of life.

If we hold fast to the sails, stand firm at the helm, keep our backs to the wind and trust in those guiding stars, we will always have a safe port, solid ground, and those we love close at hand.

This may seem like a very nautical themed post, and utterly incorrect in its analogy, but ignoring all that, what I am trying to say, is thank you to my guiding stars, thank you for being there whenever the storms pass.