TL;DR

I told myself I would write here every day no matter the topic. 

I wondered if I would choose the title first or write the subject.

I wondered why I choose to expel my word vomit here rather than the comfort of a friend's welcoming ear.

I wondered what end will justify these means and now my imagination is going. 

Y'all, work sucks sometimes. It drains me of the person I am and challenges me every. damn. day. There are so many times I feel fortunate and rewarded to be doing the work I do. I really do enjoy it, but sometimes it's just exhausting. Outside of the normal work related complaints is just one, one that I see mirrored in my writings here thus far. 

All of my training and education is unfocused and broad. I excel in the things I want to do, but I don't have the resources yet for further knowledge.  

That said, anyone who reads this that has a knack for public speaking, please reach out to your friendly neighborhood Moxie. I learned today that I don't have the, well, moxie to address groups about unrehearsed material. 

Cheers, you beautiful kinksters! May you fare better today than I did! 

(I still had an above average day, that means I'm wishing nothing but good for y'all.)

Oh, and a picture...uhhh, 

Here's a twofer! 

...or just indecisive.

This is a courtesy to you and a reminder to myself. I am a deliberate person. My trepidation is a chosen action. I choose reluctance over ambition.

Why?

Because I'm afraid. Because I'm hurt. Because I really like the paint color, the framed pictures, and the flicker of the candles against the walls I built all by myself. It took me a long time to build them so high, I couldn't have done it without some things that I borrowed. 

Maybe tomorrow I'll be brave. Maybe I'll wake up with excitement and anticipation. I'll finally feel the motivation to step outside my cozy home. 

...or maybe I'll peek through my window for a little while longer; waiting for the confident one to drop his charade, the charmer to trip over his own words, or the helpful one to bare his teeth. 

You know, I didn't really build those walls all by myself. I got a lot of help and inspiration along the way. 

Ironically, this was the facebook post I saved for myself today.

Good on ya, Mox. 

Hello, my name is Moxie and I like to Poke bears.

(Hi, Moxie!)

This month I opened up that dusty wardrobe again for the first time in nearly a year. The first snow of the year does something to my heart. I wanted to do some exploring again. I missed the opportunity to take it all in last year when I decided that the risk wasn't worth the reward.

What led me to open the door again? What change happened inside me? Was it loneliness? Was it yearning? 

No. More than likely, it was a need to rationalize my behavior. Of course I want to find like-minded individuals. See, people like me and (possibly) you, we can sing our song, quietly, privately, and let wave after wave of sadness, madness, and general bat-shittery wash us and feel refreshed. 

But when I share my song with others, I cannot convey the intrinsic purpose of its seemingly woe-filled meaning.

The somber beauty of a tear holds more magic than any forced smile. Whimpers and sighs carry the song of a heart that understands the world for more than it presents in the daylight. 

Save your smiles for the summer. Here, when the days grow short and the cold creeps in the warmth can be truly celebrated. 

I'll eat my Turkish Delight, study the old magic, and indulge in the frost glazed windows. I'll clean my palace of the trite and superficial. 

Shit. Maybe I do need to lighten up, just enough to remember why I love this so much. If you need me, I'll be reading.

Welcome home, Bingo Pajama.

IBU. Known as International Bitterness Units is a quick way for consumers to see how many hops are used in a beer. Many people correlate bitter beers with high IBU's.

A formula is put into action that takes scientific values and assigns them a number at the finish. The amount of hops used, the type of hop and it's known Alpha Acid, the time it is added to the boil and the amount of fermentable sugars in the wort are all taken into account. In the end, there's a final number, from 0 to 2000. (Any amount over 100 is nearly imperceptible.)

Percieved Bitterness though is much more personal. It's the judgement of an individual's palate that dictates this more qualitative scale. Words like Agressive, Assertive, Moderate, and Balanced are used rather than numbers.

(Moxie, WTF? Why are you explaining bitterness on this forum?

Well friends, because I can draw immediate correlation between the craft of brewing and the craft of this lifestyle. I'm putting out my beacon in the most direct way I can. Encounters here are casual and I need more. My passion for both is alive and I want this to be relatable to the right candidates.)

We can put ourselves to every online quiz, use every adjective that's been given to us, and still that ranking isn't enough to tell that potential partner exactly how we taste, how we feel, how we communicate. Simply because I'm packaged as submissive doesn't necessarily mean that I am the same flavor of others on the market.

...first off, our ages vary drastically. Although I was bottled a while back, I've only just now begun to mature in my flavor. 

Each word I use to describe myself here is only my perception of myself, how I market that perception to others. Until someone has that first sniff of me (hello pheromones, I'm looking to you here) they'll be unaware of my truest self. I can say everything and anything to try to sway that opinion, but it's not mine to make. 

Conversely, the same is becoming more and more apparent. I feel like I'm shopping for a new flavor I haven't tried yet. I could try to search out the whale I've heard others talk about but don't have the resources to attain. I find myself instead in the same comfortable indecision. I'm afraid to cross a style off my list because it seems too extreme, but I know I have moderate tastes. So instead I'll stare at the selection, read the reviews, and maybe take the proverbial sip.

(Moxie, it's okay to spit it out if it's distasteful. You'll only hurt yourself by trying to enjoy something you clearly find unpalateable.)

I'll leave it be here for tonight. To whomever reads this don't be surprised if I make more beer related posts. I at least have a wealth of knowledge in that field. 

...but one last insight, even though it's entirely to Aggressively Bitter for my taste and I KNOW I won't like it, I always seem to find myself attached to this guy:

The difference between:

Methodical and Manipulative 

Cultivating and Coddling

Dominance and Domineering

The many definitions of submission:

Deference

Acquiescence

Compliance 

Consent

Respect 

Obedience

The confusion that surrounds me today makes me want to share.

The part of me that's just so. damned. tired. only wants to talk about my cat.

He's pictured below.

He is best cat. Your cat is also best cat. 

His name is Hampton Pawes and I'll give a dollar to anyone who can guess why I named him that.

We can also talk about definitions. I would like that. But first, cats.

The recent string of Therapist memes travelling around the internet have me reevaluating my personal coping mechanisms. 

So today, at the end of a long and arduous day I choose to unwind with a Dogfish Head new release, a hot bath, kitty snuggles, and a premium subscription. 

You're welcome, future me. I made *some* good choices today.

There may come a time in the next couple of hours where I choose to unleash my feeling about today, but I need to gather my thoughts before that happens. 

SERENITY NOW!

(Winky-kissy face emoji)

I enjoy communication, truly, I do. It's important to me for so many reasons. As a listener, a good metaphor will speak to me more truthfully than a perfectly chosen series of words. It will fill in the gaps of a story and let my imagination focus on the point being made. As a speaker, metaphors allow me to speak more openly about uncomfortable topics. I can paint a picture with my words that will allow you, or anyone to grasp my idea. 

Idioms and turns of phrases are just the cliches in an endless sea of metaphors. (See what I did there?)

I have a hard time discerning what is worth my time here and if I should choose to pursue a partner. It's difficult to separate the wheat from the chaffe with limited resources. 

...but I can tell you this, I dabble in abusing grammar from time to time. I use too many commas, I insert inappropriate semicolons, and my use of ellipses is almost criminal. These things alone may be a turnoff to some; I am no exception. I cannot be wooed by a person that has no regard for grammar. If you abuse run on sentences, what's to stop your from abusing your role? 

First impressions are important. I understand that this rant of mine may leave an indelible mark on someone I haven't met yet. Let me follow up with this then:

I really am a nice person, I love to bake cookies. I have manners. I simply have a distaste for poor grammar.

Phew. Glad that's out there now. Cheers, friends! 

Ever since I was introduced to his music a year ago he's slowly crept his way into heavy rotation to my everyday soundtrack. His new album gets my heart moving again, but if you ever want an insight into my mentality listen to Love and Hate. That album sings to my soul and I feel like each song was written just for me, well except the second track. (Black Man in a White World is a great song, it just doesn't speak directly to me.)

Cold Little Heart is the metaphor for this stage in my life. 

Go now and enjoy yourself some Kiwanuka and think of me and my poor cat being subjected to my tearful sing-a-longs.

See above.

I promise I will look to the forum soon. I am I intimidated still. I feel like I should wear a thicker skin, but fuck it.

I am what I am.

...and a hatchet that I bought from scratch.

I'm coming back to this site after almost a year gone for a reason. I'm here to write my thoughts from the comfort and safety of my quiet home while looking for those few kinks to work themselves out.

I'm out of practice in the art of putting my thoughts down so if you're reading this now, forgive my scattered nature; it's in a period of regrowth.

I'm here not for a total lifestyle, but for fetish and fantasy. It seems that in this particular corner of the world I'm out of my league. Perhaps I need a bit of guidance in my life, but I'd like to see a potential mate as more of a partner and less of a controlling rule-maker. 

My first taste into this lifestyle was long distance and very relaxed. It came to me at the end of a long, sexless relationship, and when it ended, I decided to dip my toes in the waters of The Cage. Here I found myself easily intimidated, but willing to share things about myself I was previously too embarrassed to speak about. I ghosted some men and ignored others all while trying to find out why this lifestyle was drawing me in.

I took some time away and focused on my work and myself with moderate success. I enjoy what I do for a living and appreciate the relationships and the bonds that I've made in the process, but I am a lonely lady at times. Once I established myself securely both professionally and domestically I decided to start dating again. 

The man I chose to date for the last two months showed many desirable traits to me; a want and need to have a monogamous relationship, financial independence, and skills in money management.

But the flags, y'all. Those pesky red flags. 

I like to think of myself as an intelligent person. I've been through a lot in my years on this earth and I've learned many valuable lessons. There's still one lesson though, no matter how many times I'm faced with it, I will never succeed in. I need to trust myself and my judgement when someone shows me that we're incompatible. 

Rather than tear this man down publicly, which I really want to do while cloaked in this anonymity, I'll just lay down what led me back here. He was a near ideal sexual partner. With very little discussion we were able to play together in a way that I have never experienced. He restrained me and brought me to new levels of pleasure. I thought, naively I admit, that he was experienced in the ways of BDSM or in a D/s relationship. I wanted to share with him things I had learned here at The Cage, things we could talk about and ways we could improve our communication. 

I was so wrong. 

Showing him this site led him to believe what a sexual deviant I am. He called me name after name and told me that anyone of you reading this could have taken your turn since I had already signed up. I was confused, hurt, and ashamed. I thought that since he was the one tying the rope each time that he would understand.

I should end my rant here, and I will. I will welcome myself back to a routine of writing and reading. I will keep track of my growth and appreciate the conversations I have here.

And I will appreciate those red flags for what they are.

Cheers to all you deviants out there, and don't let anyone shame your kink 😘