Three flights down in so few days. One nice dinner, one family wedding. The first flight was okay. I took a xanax, I slept. I watched half a movie I'd seen before. I ate something that was supposed to be beef, but I have my suspicions. The second flight was surprisingly okay. I felt 'normal' on a plane, which is to say, I didn't feel anything at all about it, which is a good thing. The third flight, just earlier today, was so-so. I had some tense moments of feeling decidedly unpleasant. But no major panic. And no drugs on the two shorter flights, which was pretty good.
It was good to see my extended family most of whom I had not seen for three years and some for even longer. Apparently I looked well. Apparently I have an accent and sound funny. And I, amidst my family felt as lost as I ever have. Knowing I belong, but not belonging. My cousins wedding was a massive affair of about 350 people. A good American Jewish wedding. It struck me, throughout the ceremony and the celebrations, the small details that I take for granted. The massive amount of people there who all know how to dance the hora, who all know when to shout mazel tov, who knew to life the bridge and groom in chairs and dance them around. It's not like Christian weddings. The katuba, the broken glass, the drinking of wine, the simple ring of a band of gold, no stones allowed. S, my cousin is younger than me by about five years or so. And now she is married and people joke with her about having babies. And it's all so picture perfect suburban dream.... and so far removed from my world and my existance.
I have never belonged in that world. And now I've moved to a different sort of world that I also don't enjoy. That of my mother's daughter. Where I am perpetualy twelve. Where what I say doesn't matter. Where my memory of events and her memory of events are not always the same. And that's hard. I find that I just retreat into myself. And I snap. And I'm mean to my mother. And I don't really want to be mean to her, but she annoys me so much it's unbelievable, and I can't help it. And then I feel worse and I probably snap even more.
Tomorrow I must study all day. First exam on Wednesday, then horrible studying for the next exam on Friday, and then I'm rushing to catch the train to DC. Where it will be Easter with another family I never feel that I fit into, but this time, my step-mother's family. If my time at home can be categorized in anyw ay, it wold only be a most desperate sense of aloneness, which is so very heightened by my proximity to things that I feel I should be a part of. But then what is it they say, you can never go home? I guess I just often wonder, if there ever really was a home the first time around.
10 April 2006
06 April 2006
Where is My Mind?
Full crisis mode achieved. All brain survival functions on auto-pilot. All higher functions in complete meltdown. I can't focus on anything. I can't concentrate on anything. There is too much to do. There is no time left. It is as if my brain were a barrel of fish that someone has dumped on the pier and they are flailing and flopping about, gills desperately flapping as they writhe and suffocate. I don't want to be at work. I don't want to go. I don't want to take these exams. I want to go hide in my bed with the duvet pulled over me and pretend the entire world doesn't exist. I have officially lost my mind.
05 April 2006
Marking Time
Yesterday evening was a whirlwind. Getting a haircut was top of my priorities. I was very excited about this haircut, and it lived up to expectations. Of course, before I went for the haircut I had to go back home to pick up the green leather which I had not known to pick up when I had gone home at lunch to grab my overnight bag. So I rushed home, got the goods, and rushed out to get to the salon. Got there with ten minutes to spare, so all was going well, or so I thought.
Except the hairdresser was running late. So I drank a glass of wine and various fruit juices and got two free treatments for my hair as compensation, so I wasn't too irritated, but I did know I had another appointment to keep, so I was a little bit tense about the time. This was only slightly aggravated by watching said hairdresser start chopping at my head. I know how my hair shrinks, so I was very nervous watching those scissors get fairly close to my scalp, but really, it's a very good haircut, so all that tension was for nothing. Of course, after my hour and a half appointment, it was 9pm and I had to be at the warehouse for 10. Shit.
Hustling myself along to Liverpool Station, I made a snap decision on the fastest way to get to Vauxhall. I got the Central line for one stop, hopped the Northern line to Stockwell, and planned on taking the Victoria line back one stop to Vauxhall. Now, it was all going to plan, and as I waited for my northbound Victoria line train, I calculated I should arrive at Vauxhall just at 9:40 which, if the buses were friendly, should get me to the warehouse just on time. So when the train came and I hopped on, I was feeling restless, but secure. Until the doors closed and I looked at the route listed in black and realized I'd gotten on a northbound Northern line train. Fuck me. So I got out of the station at Oval thinking I would just catch a taxi. Think again. Three stoplights later and I was back onto the tube, going back to Vauxhall, to catch a taxi there. Thankfully I saw someone getting out of a taxi at Vauxhall, because otherwise, I didn't see a single one. I ended up arriving at the warehouse fifteen minutes late. I hate being late. Not to mention the tension that was there already after the days email discretions. Shit shit shit!
As instructed, I hustled up the fire escape and through the door, making sure it was shut behind me, then through the building to the internal stairs, and up to the loft where it was all very dark. Through the first set of doors I went straight into the bathroom to try and catch my breath, check out my hair, and prepare. Oh, and I had to pee like a racehorse. So I tried to slow my breathing and stripped down, washed up a bit, took my green leather out of my bag and put it on. I folded all my clothes and stacked them on my bag, taking that and my shoes back out of the bathroom with me as I turned off the light and found myself in blackness again. The only light came from way down in the loft, the television was on and perhaps I could just make out the top of Mr.Aloofs head on the sofa in front of it. Before that however, I saw a mat laid out with a ring of rope upon it, directly under the first beam.
Not leaving myself time to think about anything, I quietly padded over to the mat, and stepped into the ring facing away from the window, from the television, from the sofa, and back towards the door I came in through. And I closed my eyes. Luckily, he didn't make me wait so terribly long before I heard the movie go off and music go on. It's hard to stand in the middle of a room, naked, listening, wary, without fidgeting. My hand flexed for the five minutes or so I waited.
I was wary of course, because the last communique I'd gotten had said, "Having stepped just a little too far over the line of what I consider an acceptable degree of emailing of offensive photos...........it might be better if you don't present yourself. Because otherwise.........you will be hurting in the morning.........." Oops. Me? Cross the line? Er...... uh-oh. *smirk*
So there I was, trying not to fidget, waiting, waiting, waiting. When a hand gently touched my shoulder, my back, and suddenly I was embraced from behind- gently, slowly, snugly. I could feel the roughness of his clothes on my goose-pimpled skin, I felt his hair brush my shoulder softly, I could smell it's clean scent. No words were spoken. I didn't open my eyes and that was quickly not an option as a blindfold was knotted neatly and firmly in place.
For some time he toyed with me this way. Only gentle touches, caresses, embraces, kisses. He would come to me, and then leave me. Sometimes approaching from behind, sometimes from in front. Sometimes I could hear as he changed the CD, went to the kitchen, drank something. During this time of comings and goings my left wrist was pulled away, a rope threaded through the cuff and over the rafter, but my hand was placed back at my side. And then the right. And so the anticipation built. Then, eventually, the ropes were pulled and tightened until I had little room to shift. The keys, our agreed upon signal for when I had enough were pressed into my left hand, and I slipped the ring around my finger, knowing that even when the keys were dropped there would be more to endure. And still he toyed with me using softness. Heightening the anticipation of what I knew was to come. Kissing, hands and fingers roaming, but staying well away from the wetness that betrayed my fear, and only serving to heighten a different sort of anticipation.
But the niceties had to end. Even though I knew it had to happen, it was sudden and without warning when the whip slammed into my ass. There was not to be a warm up it seemed which was quickly brought home by him wrapping the strikes so they peppered me from knee to ribs, not neglecting the particularly sensitive region in the middle which made me twist and try to jump away to no avail. The strokes rained down bringing a warmth and tingle to my skin. And then they stopped. And he was softly beside me again, and now I leaned into him, trembling, skin warming, as he ran his hands over welts then again stepped away. This pattern continued a number of times, certain areas on my hips now slightly stinging. I yelped and leaned away on particularly hard hits, I needed his support more during the time in between.
Then, in the middle of this pattern, a change, not the multitude of snapping teeth or the thudding mass of the whip, but a single burning mark and a loud snapping crack. This was new. This was different. This was intense. I could not stand still from either the searing impact or the sudden sound. And when he hit the same spot twice, I moved the keys from my pointer finger to my thumb, toying with them. And then respite. And then again alternating between the whip and the mystery item. Perhaps it was three or maybe four periods with this new brand when I flung the keys which had now moved to simply being held in my hand as far away as possible. A pause perhaps, a small acknowledgement, and then, continuation.
Pain which overrides other thoughts, except perhaps a reminder to breathe, to try not to tense, to try not to strain so hard on my wrists and arms. And respite, again. And this time as he lightly ran his fingers over new and angry welts and I sagged towards him, and he held my weight firm against his body, then did he reach for the wetness, that still through the pain betrayed the conflict and the need. And of course the body responds, and so he held me while I trembled against him, crying out for a different reason. And when he knew that I could stand again, he set me down and again the strokes rained down. Now the pain mixing with the after-glow of pleasure. Still twisting, still moving against the bonds, but somehow easier. The next respite was more of the same and then the sensation of warm soapy water rushing over heated skin and hands slipping after. The whip on wet skin blowing coldly before leaving it's burning marks. They mysterious item leaving final brands on skin already sore. Then silence. Then slack. And I flexed my fingers to make the blood return faster, favoring one leg, as standing on the other renewed the inflamed skin.
Then arms, guiding me down, to the floor, to the mat, to lay upon it. Luckily most sore spots seemed to be on hips and sides. Cradling me there, one hand intertwined in mine, he touched me again, and again, and again. Perhaps intrigued by my then sensitive responses. There was no counting or distinction of pleasure, it was constant, continuous, intense. Until I was squirming away from his persistent touch instead of towards. And he would let me rest a moment, and begin again until I was exhausted. The bath that had been running was turned off and he said softly to me 'lets take a bath' and I heard him move away as I slowly removed my leather, and finally the blindfold to see him checking on me and stepping into the tub.
I got up less stiffly than I would have thought and came to the edge, splashing water on him, running my hands on his now naked form. 'Come in.', he said. And I looked at him and felt the warmth of the water and said I thought I was afraid of it. 'It will be fine, come in.' And so I slipped into the bath, and the water didn't sting as I thought, and I settled back between his legs, on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me and lay there like that for some time, soaking.
The rest is more routine. Out of the bath. Dry off with towels, though I was careful to gently pat and not rub anywhere. Some juice to drink and off to bed, where we entangled ourselves again and had some mindless talk of nothing and twitching of toes to the music until I realized I had just woken up from obviously sleeping for a while. And that was all there was. No sex. Though I did not feel as much the lack of it as the time before, I can't say that it doesn't confuse me, but I'm not really complaining. And in the morning more cuddles, some breakfast, a look in the mirror at the devastation of my skin. A hideous train ride to work.
Two nights and I am on the plane. I don't understand myself and why I make the choices I make sometimes. But I also don't regret.
Except the hairdresser was running late. So I drank a glass of wine and various fruit juices and got two free treatments for my hair as compensation, so I wasn't too irritated, but I did know I had another appointment to keep, so I was a little bit tense about the time. This was only slightly aggravated by watching said hairdresser start chopping at my head. I know how my hair shrinks, so I was very nervous watching those scissors get fairly close to my scalp, but really, it's a very good haircut, so all that tension was for nothing. Of course, after my hour and a half appointment, it was 9pm and I had to be at the warehouse for 10. Shit.
Hustling myself along to Liverpool Station, I made a snap decision on the fastest way to get to Vauxhall. I got the Central line for one stop, hopped the Northern line to Stockwell, and planned on taking the Victoria line back one stop to Vauxhall. Now, it was all going to plan, and as I waited for my northbound Victoria line train, I calculated I should arrive at Vauxhall just at 9:40 which, if the buses were friendly, should get me to the warehouse just on time. So when the train came and I hopped on, I was feeling restless, but secure. Until the doors closed and I looked at the route listed in black and realized I'd gotten on a northbound Northern line train. Fuck me. So I got out of the station at Oval thinking I would just catch a taxi. Think again. Three stoplights later and I was back onto the tube, going back to Vauxhall, to catch a taxi there. Thankfully I saw someone getting out of a taxi at Vauxhall, because otherwise, I didn't see a single one. I ended up arriving at the warehouse fifteen minutes late. I hate being late. Not to mention the tension that was there already after the days email discretions. Shit shit shit!
As instructed, I hustled up the fire escape and through the door, making sure it was shut behind me, then through the building to the internal stairs, and up to the loft where it was all very dark. Through the first set of doors I went straight into the bathroom to try and catch my breath, check out my hair, and prepare. Oh, and I had to pee like a racehorse. So I tried to slow my breathing and stripped down, washed up a bit, took my green leather out of my bag and put it on. I folded all my clothes and stacked them on my bag, taking that and my shoes back out of the bathroom with me as I turned off the light and found myself in blackness again. The only light came from way down in the loft, the television was on and perhaps I could just make out the top of Mr.Aloofs head on the sofa in front of it. Before that however, I saw a mat laid out with a ring of rope upon it, directly under the first beam.
Not leaving myself time to think about anything, I quietly padded over to the mat, and stepped into the ring facing away from the window, from the television, from the sofa, and back towards the door I came in through. And I closed my eyes. Luckily, he didn't make me wait so terribly long before I heard the movie go off and music go on. It's hard to stand in the middle of a room, naked, listening, wary, without fidgeting. My hand flexed for the five minutes or so I waited.
I was wary of course, because the last communique I'd gotten had said, "Having stepped just a little too far over the line of what I consider an acceptable degree of emailing of offensive photos...........it might be better if you don't present yourself. Because otherwise.........you will be hurting in the morning.........." Oops. Me? Cross the line? Er...... uh-oh. *smirk*
So there I was, trying not to fidget, waiting, waiting, waiting. When a hand gently touched my shoulder, my back, and suddenly I was embraced from behind- gently, slowly, snugly. I could feel the roughness of his clothes on my goose-pimpled skin, I felt his hair brush my shoulder softly, I could smell it's clean scent. No words were spoken. I didn't open my eyes and that was quickly not an option as a blindfold was knotted neatly and firmly in place.
For some time he toyed with me this way. Only gentle touches, caresses, embraces, kisses. He would come to me, and then leave me. Sometimes approaching from behind, sometimes from in front. Sometimes I could hear as he changed the CD, went to the kitchen, drank something. During this time of comings and goings my left wrist was pulled away, a rope threaded through the cuff and over the rafter, but my hand was placed back at my side. And then the right. And so the anticipation built. Then, eventually, the ropes were pulled and tightened until I had little room to shift. The keys, our agreed upon signal for when I had enough were pressed into my left hand, and I slipped the ring around my finger, knowing that even when the keys were dropped there would be more to endure. And still he toyed with me using softness. Heightening the anticipation of what I knew was to come. Kissing, hands and fingers roaming, but staying well away from the wetness that betrayed my fear, and only serving to heighten a different sort of anticipation.
But the niceties had to end. Even though I knew it had to happen, it was sudden and without warning when the whip slammed into my ass. There was not to be a warm up it seemed which was quickly brought home by him wrapping the strikes so they peppered me from knee to ribs, not neglecting the particularly sensitive region in the middle which made me twist and try to jump away to no avail. The strokes rained down bringing a warmth and tingle to my skin. And then they stopped. And he was softly beside me again, and now I leaned into him, trembling, skin warming, as he ran his hands over welts then again stepped away. This pattern continued a number of times, certain areas on my hips now slightly stinging. I yelped and leaned away on particularly hard hits, I needed his support more during the time in between.
Then, in the middle of this pattern, a change, not the multitude of snapping teeth or the thudding mass of the whip, but a single burning mark and a loud snapping crack. This was new. This was different. This was intense. I could not stand still from either the searing impact or the sudden sound. And when he hit the same spot twice, I moved the keys from my pointer finger to my thumb, toying with them. And then respite. And then again alternating between the whip and the mystery item. Perhaps it was three or maybe four periods with this new brand when I flung the keys which had now moved to simply being held in my hand as far away as possible. A pause perhaps, a small acknowledgement, and then, continuation.
Pain which overrides other thoughts, except perhaps a reminder to breathe, to try not to tense, to try not to strain so hard on my wrists and arms. And respite, again. And this time as he lightly ran his fingers over new and angry welts and I sagged towards him, and he held my weight firm against his body, then did he reach for the wetness, that still through the pain betrayed the conflict and the need. And of course the body responds, and so he held me while I trembled against him, crying out for a different reason. And when he knew that I could stand again, he set me down and again the strokes rained down. Now the pain mixing with the after-glow of pleasure. Still twisting, still moving against the bonds, but somehow easier. The next respite was more of the same and then the sensation of warm soapy water rushing over heated skin and hands slipping after. The whip on wet skin blowing coldly before leaving it's burning marks. They mysterious item leaving final brands on skin already sore. Then silence. Then slack. And I flexed my fingers to make the blood return faster, favoring one leg, as standing on the other renewed the inflamed skin.
Then arms, guiding me down, to the floor, to the mat, to lay upon it. Luckily most sore spots seemed to be on hips and sides. Cradling me there, one hand intertwined in mine, he touched me again, and again, and again. Perhaps intrigued by my then sensitive responses. There was no counting or distinction of pleasure, it was constant, continuous, intense. Until I was squirming away from his persistent touch instead of towards. And he would let me rest a moment, and begin again until I was exhausted. The bath that had been running was turned off and he said softly to me 'lets take a bath' and I heard him move away as I slowly removed my leather, and finally the blindfold to see him checking on me and stepping into the tub.
I got up less stiffly than I would have thought and came to the edge, splashing water on him, running my hands on his now naked form. 'Come in.', he said. And I looked at him and felt the warmth of the water and said I thought I was afraid of it. 'It will be fine, come in.' And so I slipped into the bath, and the water didn't sting as I thought, and I settled back between his legs, on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me and lay there like that for some time, soaking.
The rest is more routine. Out of the bath. Dry off with towels, though I was careful to gently pat and not rub anywhere. Some juice to drink and off to bed, where we entangled ourselves again and had some mindless talk of nothing and twitching of toes to the music until I realized I had just woken up from obviously sleeping for a while. And that was all there was. No sex. Though I did not feel as much the lack of it as the time before, I can't say that it doesn't confuse me, but I'm not really complaining. And in the morning more cuddles, some breakfast, a look in the mirror at the devastation of my skin. A hideous train ride to work.
Two nights and I am on the plane. I don't understand myself and why I make the choices I make sometimes. But I also don't regret.
04 April 2006
Preparations for an Evening
"Keys in hand...
probably ignored for a while when dropped...
Enter the building using the rear fire escape.
Third floor door will be open.
Close it when you are inside.
Walk to the fourth floor, prepare yourself, and enter my main quarters.
Preparations are to include- undress completely, and, wearing only your own green adornments, quantity- five.
Stand within the circle of rope that lays beneath the first beam with your back to the round window.
Close your eyes and wait.
No words.
The ritual of offering.
Or abandon."
probably ignored for a while when dropped...
Enter the building using the rear fire escape.
Third floor door will be open.
Close it when you are inside.
Walk to the fourth floor, prepare yourself, and enter my main quarters.
Preparations are to include- undress completely, and, wearing only your own green adornments, quantity- five.
Stand within the circle of rope that lays beneath the first beam with your back to the round window.
Close your eyes and wait.
No words.
The ritual of offering.
Or abandon."
Loose Ends
God how I hate flying. And I hate taking exams. My thoughts seem to be slipping around my brain in a sloppy fashion. It's hard for me to concentrate. On anything.
No more dates, obviously, until I get back. So until then, it is all in cyber-land. Am talking to a couple of people who all could be interesting. Who all are interesting, online. The question is, is that all there is or can it step up? Must put my energy into 'dating' when I get back. Such a pain in the ass. It's all a lot of energy and effort for what seems like very little outcome. Of course, saying that, it worked out well a year or so ago, there's no reason to assume it won't work out well this time either. I just need to be patient. It's not my strong suit.
I'm getting a haircut tonight. I know it's not time, but my hair is driving me nuts. My last cut was not good. So I've waited as long as I can to let it grow a bit, and I'm trying a new place. Could be a disaster, could be a good thing. Hopefully it'll be a good thing. Fingers crossed....
It is always how things get added when I'm writing posts. *sigh* And I think I am going over to Mr.Aloof's tonight, after the haircut. For a rather impromptu play session. I must be mad. I know the million reasons this is a bad idea, not the least of which will be hiding substantial bruises from my mother as we share a hotel room on the weekend. Or rather, explaining them to her. I know he's been a complete tosser who doesn't deserve my time. I know I should be studying. I know all these things. But... I want a release... I want a scourge... In the face of all my fears, I want to feel... alive.
No more dates, obviously, until I get back. So until then, it is all in cyber-land. Am talking to a couple of people who all could be interesting. Who all are interesting, online. The question is, is that all there is or can it step up? Must put my energy into 'dating' when I get back. Such a pain in the ass. It's all a lot of energy and effort for what seems like very little outcome. Of course, saying that, it worked out well a year or so ago, there's no reason to assume it won't work out well this time either. I just need to be patient. It's not my strong suit.
I'm getting a haircut tonight. I know it's not time, but my hair is driving me nuts. My last cut was not good. So I've waited as long as I can to let it grow a bit, and I'm trying a new place. Could be a disaster, could be a good thing. Hopefully it'll be a good thing. Fingers crossed....
It is always how things get added when I'm writing posts. *sigh* And I think I am going over to Mr.Aloof's tonight, after the haircut. For a rather impromptu play session. I must be mad. I know the million reasons this is a bad idea, not the least of which will be hiding substantial bruises from my mother as we share a hotel room on the weekend. Or rather, explaining them to her. I know he's been a complete tosser who doesn't deserve my time. I know I should be studying. I know all these things. But... I want a release... I want a scourge... In the face of all my fears, I want to feel... alive.
03 April 2006
Itchy Itchy Itchy
My skin has been pissing me off these past couple weeks. My skin condition has always been aggravated by stress, and I am very stressed, so there's that. It also seems to be aggravated by changes in the weather, cue spring. I'm pissed off because one of the drugs I use works for a while, and then it stops working. And that's only if I'm meticulous about using it twice a day. Miss even one application and it all goes to shit. But then it just stops working anyway regardless. My steroid creams seem to be doing fuck all, and so I really don't know why I bother putting them on, except I don't have anything else I can do. I hate when my skin gets all crappy. It really puts me in a bad mood.
02 April 2006
Countdown to Implosion
Yesterday was a fun day. I can't believe today is Sunday now, half gone. As usual started with good intentions that slowly got the better of me and slipped away. Yesterday I went to C's house with some others to look at her mothers fun jewelry and make everyone some quesadillas and guacamole. That was good entertainment for the early afternoon. Then in the evening went to SA's housewarming/birthday. Except I didn't know it was his birthday, so that was bad maybe. But it also turned out to be a less painful experience than I anticipated, so by default, was good.
Of course while making the food at C's house, I managed to get some chili oil on my fingers. This was unfortunately transferred during a bathroom break to a part of anatomy that I don't recommend getting chili oil on. Unless of course, you're a masochist, which I guess it's a good thing I am, because I found the discomfort more amusing than upsetting.
Today tlsd and I had some dim sum an then did a mondo shop at one of the Vietnamese groceries down Mare Street. I got all sorts of good stuff and then I remember that I'm only here another five nights and then it's America-bound.
And I am completely freaking out about flights, about exams, about not wanting to leave, about spending time with my family who have the infinite capacity to bother me..... But it's the flights and exams that are currently holding number one and two by leaps and bounds beyond the others. I feel like death is awaiting me, in one form or another.
Of course while making the food at C's house, I managed to get some chili oil on my fingers. This was unfortunately transferred during a bathroom break to a part of anatomy that I don't recommend getting chili oil on. Unless of course, you're a masochist, which I guess it's a good thing I am, because I found the discomfort more amusing than upsetting.
Today tlsd and I had some dim sum an then did a mondo shop at one of the Vietnamese groceries down Mare Street. I got all sorts of good stuff and then I remember that I'm only here another five nights and then it's America-bound.
And I am completely freaking out about flights, about exams, about not wanting to leave, about spending time with my family who have the infinite capacity to bother me..... But it's the flights and exams that are currently holding number one and two by leaps and bounds beyond the others. I feel like death is awaiting me, in one form or another.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
