Jul. 25th, 2013 09:09 pm
krystale: (Default)
A recent guest laughed at "Bitches, Yuppies and Rednecks from Mars" which is entirely laughable, yes, and downright awful, but the artwork is solid work (I hesitate to use "good" because I don't like the style) and some of the tiny bits of plot are decent concepts, additionally there's a good variety of sexual proclivities, and frankly, it's really not much worse than any other comic. OK, so average comic. Batman was an ordinary man who did amazing things. So, no comparing the Batman legacy to this BYRfM, nor Wonderwoman, who, in her own way did a lot. But really, how is lesbians colonizing Mars really less weird than being able to shoot spider silk just because you got bit by a radioactive spider? Really. I know a bunch of lesbians who if you said, "hey, look, lesbian colonies on Mars, no dudes, you wanna go?" they'd be like HELL YEA. Personally, I've never met a scientist who works with spiders or seen anyone for whom radiation has been a super-powering experience and the spider bite I got is scary but my super-weird was already there before it. Is the Dr. Who plot about the waters of Mars really more believable than dykes?
I don't think so, but then, I wouldn't be writing this if I did.*
I don't really have a point to this.

*Just to be clear, I also enjoyed Spider Man and Dr. Who, and I do actively like and seek Dr. Who.


Jul. 25th, 2013 09:07 pm
krystale: (Default)
I was at the library, searching non-fiction for books on Dissociative Identity Disorder when a woman a woman holding a book came into the isle, searching the shelves above where I crouched. Her knees were kaki and the back of the book in her hand said "It Gets BETTER" and I couldn't see the woman well, which doesn't matter much as my recognition skills visually are lacking severely; plus, I keep my eyes to myself, generally, unless I'm in some form facilitator, presenter, security or staff. Despite her plain clothes and the thousands of other books just within my line of sight, my brain said to me, 'this is a librarian and this book is for you, follow it.'

Hello, Cruel World
Kate Bornstein

"I'm not exactly a transsexual. A transsexual is a man who becomes a woman, or a woman who becomes a man, and I'm not a man and I'm not a woman. I break too many rules of both those genders to be one or the other. I transgress gender. You could call me transgressively gendered. You could call me transgendered. Me, I call myself a traveler."

So far, I disagree with this book in only one small, but big for me, detail. I have STOPPED changing. I'm not changing, it may look like I am, but truthfully, I'm just letting myself be who I've always kept hidden inside.
The things I did last year that made me happy make me happy now, still. There is MORE, yes, but I'm not changing. I'm growing. There's a difference for me, a big difference.

It's an awesome book, though, so far. Disagreeing with something isn't the same as disliking. I don't have to agree to like something. I wish I could get and send a copy of this book to the woman I love, but the best I can do is recommend it to you all. If you're in my hometown and po' like me, you'll have to wait until I finish and return it.

It's labeled
second floor, left rear room, first isle made of two stacks (not stack and wall), third stack from the end on your right if you face the back of the library, top shelf, third of the way in, nearly half.

Yes, I remember where almost every book I've taken from a library goes back to, unless they rearranged, which happens a lot, since new books are born every day.

In the late 1990s in a small town in Massachusetts, Camus was straight in the front door, around the desks, left side first isle wall/stacks. Taller stacks here, brown shelves, fixed not rolling. Let's see, it's hard cover, fifth shelf from the floor, left side of the shelf as you faced it, slightly above eye level, eight or so in.

I also remember almost every place I've ever peed. But that's a far less intelligent sounding story.
krystale: (face)
"Free people, remember this maxim: we may acquire liberty, but it is never recovered if it is once lost." Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I profoundly disagree.

I was born into slavery, sexual service from my earliest moments.
I was "rescued" and resold into slavery.

You thought slave trade was dead?
No, it's not, but they require you to buy them as children and enslave them yourselves.
Actually, in some places, they PAY you to keep doing this after you buy the children, so long as you look nice when people are looking.

Because I know other abuse survivors, I have seen a mentality that does indicate this Rousseau's quote.
But it's the middle of the story. (And, to be fair, this quote is alone and may be it's own middle somewhere else. I am reacting ONLY to the above quoted lines.)

The truth is we are ALL slaves to something.
And the truth is, liberty is within ourselves.

The soul who remembers it can, does.
The underground railroad.
The good therapists who were survivors.
The bedridden elderly who continue to talk and teach and share.
The amputee runners.

Liberty is incapable of being lost.
We can get lost, but liberty cannot.

Giving up IS a liberty.
You don't loose your liberty by giving up.
You don't loose liberty by asking permission.

Because liberty is YOUR free will, YOU are the only one who can "loose" your liberty.

No, I am not blaming victims for being victimized.
I am only blaming them for viewing themselves as victims.

I was victimized.
But I am no victim.
I will die for the protection of my rights in my own space if they are threatened so severely. But I tell you what, I'll die killing if someone tries to kill me.
That's my liberty.
We CAN choose how we see things, handle things, do things.
Even under constant restrictions we can cultivate ourselves within our hearts and minds.

Own yourself and no one else ever can unless you are choosing to follow them.
krystale: (Default)
Impress me, but do it without trying. If you can't maintain it, if it's not regular habit, do NOT do it in the initial time of knowing me to just to catch me. That may be the norm, but it's not right. Let me see if I can love you as you are because that holds far stronger.

Make better choices than me. Ask my opinion and build on it to make it better without forgetting my help. Treat people better than I do. Show more respect than I do. Have self control. Show the restraint and maturity to understand that asking for permission doesn't undermine dominance. See me as a challenge, but don't expect a slave, I am a strong person, not an appliance. Understand that if you impress me, I will continue to challenge you because I want to learn from you and because I have difficulty understanding it all for a change.

Don't approach me if you know you'll walk away. I don't want to deal with that, I'm looking for people that won't turn their back on me.

Don't loose your sadism in the rhythm. Stay play-mean. Sure, I love a good rhythm, but if you're dominant enough for me, it'll take a serious sadistic streak. You won't have to demand my submission, I'll crave you while I play-fear you.

If you're sadistic enough, I'll start looking like a deer in the headlights just from hearing from you and knowing that we'll be getting together. It will be so apparently obvious that my friends will tell me, and that's how I'll know, because it will happen without me thinking about it.

Frankly, I can MAKE myself be submissive to anyone. I utilize this often in short bursts to keep situations more mellow with control freaks.

If you want to be MY dominant, you'll be patient and kind, but have clear stated boundaries and expectations and a seriously mean-play streak. You won't need to discipline me, just let me know when I've disappointed you. It will crush me or it's a part of me that is a failure in your part to accept.

If I disappoint you too much, we're not compatible. I don't want to be made into someone different. I want to be my best ME.

Be honest, direct and sensitive, but when we play, be mean, underhanded and sneaky. In everywhere but our play, be someone I can feel safe with, but terrify me in play; remember to bring back sensitive for the aftercare.

Be possessive, not restrictive.

If you come into the relationship with plans of how to punish me, I'll be needing you to take whatever tool you were going to use to punish me with and shove it up your ass and then eat it. And then, leave me the fuck alone. I have a Catholic father already who STILL treats me like a stupid incompetent servant woman most times I care enough to let him interact with me. It's not OK when he does it and he's paid for it with housing and car and it's still not OK.
Every punishment makes me want to do the shit more, because YOU deserve to be "punished" with what you don't like for punishing me for being how I already was when you met me. You know what that is? That's lack of acceptance. I HAVE that shit already.

I LIKE my house messy. And EVERY time it's not good enough for you and you express that, I LIKE IT BETTER. So if you want it cleaner, do it yourself and do not hold me responsible for YOUR standards. You want me to like it cleaner? Help me clean or encourage me when I struggle with it, shut your fucking mouth on criticism or punishments and just say nice things about it. Make it more enjoyable to have it clean, but do not make it shameful to be messy.

Weak dominants use shame. Strong dominants simply set a good example and focus on the positive.

Dominant, not dictator.
Strong and in control, not control freak.

There are a lot of reasons things in my life have come to be how they are. So accept me as I am or fuck off. I don't need more people who aren't OK with me.

Respect me.
Help me be the best ME I can be. HELP me find it in myself and be it, do not MAKE me be what YOU think is the best of me.
Do not make me hurt when you help me.

Show your pleasure when I behave in ways you like.
Shut the fuck up the rest of the time unless I do something hurtful or harmful intentionally. Good luck catching me in that shit, because it disgusts me to hurt or harm anyone. And when I do, please just tell me, because it was an accident, or something serious that I need help with is going on with me that made me act out. I want to learn to be the best me I can be and I know that is a life long journey.

Understand that if it turns out you can't handle me, I'll know. I'll know before you do and I'll simply not submit.
You can kill me if you want, but I still won't submit, I'll be a martyr to my morals. After a lifetime of terrible illnesses and suicidal feelings, death is not something that scares me.
I've been beaten unconscious in an effort to control me into doing things someone else's "right" way; I'd sooner go unconscious again, or even die, than let myself be treated that way ever again.

I already compromise down what I don't want to deal with and consider what other people need or want. I already push myself. You don't need to be zealous.

Praise me, make me feel good, show me with kindness how I can grow and have patience while I do so and I will follow willingly.

Show me what will make you happy and ask for it and I will eagerly give whatever I can towards that.

Let my happiness or pleasure be something that brings you happiness and pleasure and we'll be blissfully happy, as happy as two people can be on this planet in this stressful world.

Be strong enough to admit when you make mistakes, strong enough to admit it in front of everyone who saw you make the mistake. Sure, good dominants don't need to apologize. THIS is why, because if you can admit you did something wrong and shouldn't have and are ashamed, THAT is what matters. That is emotional maturity. That is someone I want to follow. That is someone I admire. (It's also incredibly sexy.)

Make the best of everything with me.

Love me and let me love you, though it may not be the usual twue-wuv.
Care about me and let me care about you.

If you can't own yourself, you cannot own me.
And remember, you don't own me no matter the contract.
You're borrowing me from me.

Big Mussels

May. 3rd, 2013 04:41 pm
krystale: (Default)
Big Mussels

This week at Price Chopper, frozen single pound packages of precooked mussels were buy one get two free.

I've been doing well the past few days, so dinner consisted of an ear of corn and mussels with fresh squeezed lemon.

Mussels are ritualistic for me, nearly. I begin with the most cracked and ruined shells, picking shell off mussel instead of the other way around. The flesh body of mussels pucker open when you pinch the ends towards one another a bit, I drip lemon juice from a quarter lemon right into the gaping maw.

For the first few, it's the taste I think of because I'm hungry, but it's also the logical first thing to pay attention to when putting something in your mouth.
I remember diving for freshwater mussels and bringing them to the shore to smash on the rocks and feed to the birds. In years of doing that, I never once was pecked or shit upon. Frankly, to the seagulls and some bold pigeons and occasional other feathered friends I was probably Julia Childs.
This was one of my favorite ways to pass a summer day.

Then, I ponder how the mussels look inside, the foot like a tongue when I think of vegetarians not eating foods with faces. The firm pinks, oranges, and browns are a stark contrast to the gelatenous translucence the tones have in life, or rather, at death, when I smashed them between rocks. If you watched closely, as you lifted the rock, the flattened pancake of goo and sharp blue bits would give one final clench and pull back into a bit of their original shape before I peeled them up and tossed them to the birds. Cooked, they resemble opening flowers with more than a few impressions of vaginas going on.

Then I remember these are organs, which leads me to ponder the fact that I'm eating entire life forms in one bite.

I imagine being in a giant bowl with a bunch of people and I think being plopped into a sudden boil is probably not so bad as death goes. It'll kill you fast, you won't even have to worry about that lingering consciousness with brain death taking time.

I'd rather be a shellfish than a fowl.

I contemplate being eaten whole and the giants it would take for me to be a morsel.
This goes nicely with the fact that I'm now down to only the best and most perfect shells. Blue wings flap as the body leaves it's shell at last.

I remember that as I child it took me an hour every day to get dressed because each day, in my imagination, I had to hunt around the giant's castle to find enough clothes to escape it, and I had to be quiet and sneaky about it.

I still don't know what that is about, but I hold Jack and his beanstalk partially responsible.
What I still REALLY don't understand, why did it always begin with escaping from a giant sandwich naked?
I suppose it's possible getting out of bed could be like escaping from a sandwich if you had a good imagination, which I apparently always have.

Castles and fairy tales have me contemplating how I can use the mussels shells as I rinse the empty remains of those still paired and uncracked.
Perhaps a little fence if I stick them into the earth around a plant. I think of Neptune's version of Hansel and Grettle possibly having such things, or perhaps that's Neptune's equivalent of Pet Cemetary.
krystale: (Default)
Safewords and that other nine letter word

I was once asked by a sadistic top, as he paddled me over a table at a party with the studded side of a studded leather flogger, "have you used your word? Like... ever?"

I didn't answer, because I'm not looking to challenge anyone. I know without a doubt I can find plenty of people who can go past my boundaries, including this guy. We live in a world of rape and murder, a world where I heard the shot when the neighbor blew his brains out on his front porch and knew what happened. (That's what keeps me from going through with suicide, I saw how it fucked up the living.)

Anyway, have I used my safeword?
Nope, like... never.

OK, so yes, I'm a hard bottom with dissociation abilities/issues and a developmental period that made me trauma hardy. That is a help in not needing to SW or tap-out.
When I say, "I think that's probably good," I've usually already been asked repeatedly how I am, and often asked already if I'd had enough yet. While I am proud of myself, I'm not really trying to brag. I prefer to let my current actions to make impressions, not my old stories. Usually. We all get pompous sometimes. Like if I were to say not only have I not called "red," I've never called "yellow" either. That's pompous. LOL

But mostly, I don't go into situations I feel will be past my boundaries or put me in danger.

I like a top who can dish.
And dish hard.
No dixie plates for me.
We're talking metal here.
No breakin'.
Unless you have some epic delrin plate or somesuch.
The tops I like ask me how I'm doing a few times, then somewhere in there check my expression and decide I can handle more. (Bruises are not a boundary for me, though I require tops who can evaluate that my skin has had enough.)
Hard dish, honey.

But really...
I don't consent to situations I don't think I can handle and I don't play where I don't think my limits will be respected. Parties are a great place for that reason.

That's that other nine letter word.
How negotiations go is an entire answer aside from everything within the negotiations.

Negotiation and safewords.
Making bruises fun with every application.
krystale: (Default)
Chronic Panic Attacks -vs- Panic Disorder IMNSHO

Panic disorder indicates a fear of the panic attacks that impairs daily functioning in that a person is afraid to go anywhere because they're afraid of having a panic attack.

Here's how I know I don't have that.
I found the cure. It's the Fuckits!

I want to go to a party but I'm anxious I might freak out and look stupid!
Fuck it!
I can go sit in the car, in my usual case. Then if I want to escape, I'm preloaded in my pod. Absolute worst case, the assholes stand around laughing at me and then I know my problem isn't anxiety, it's that I'm surrounded by assholes!

I have ridiculous panic attacks. I don't know if other people see themselves in the same ways I do, but I can see clearly how annoying, scary and ridiculous it is. It's not like I wouldn't just turn them off if I could. They annoy and scare me, too.

But they scare me when they're happening.
But EVERYTHING scares me when it happens.

Which kinda downgrades scary.
I could die in an accident on the way or if I stay home I could die alone and no one would know because I stayed home and they're all out busy.

A quote I like is used in Princess Diaries:
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the determination that something else is more important than the fear."
That's a rather approximate quote. (I don't have a DVD remote, or I'd load, fast forward and check.) It's in the letter her dad sends her that Fat Louie sits on.


Anyway, that's the difference between a cronic something and a something disorder to me.
Catching Fuckits from someone and applying them now and then.
I caught Fuckits from a lovely lady who was helping me move and something fell, so she knocked it down, sat on the truck back and called out, "fuck it!"
"Are you ok?" I called up the outside stairs to her.
"I've got the Fuckits!"
They must catch instantly because I was trying to move, but we all just sat around repeating "fuckits" for a while and laughing.
Then we got up and finished moving and did a great job.

Fuckits themselves are also an optional chronic condition. You can choose to induce a Fuckit episode and then cure them yourself just about any time. Usually. Sometimes it requires exposure to someone who does not currently have Acute Fuckits to pull yourself out of it.

Also, a friend of mine who did not have Chronic Benign Fuckits as I am so lucky to, happened to find Fuckital!

I tried it, it's pretty good.

Whatever the is going wrong, just take a moment to stand up or step out and have a fuckital moment.

Just remember the point of the inducing the Chronic Benign Fuckits or having a dose of Fuckital is that it's not a chronic state that interferes with your life, that's disorder for you. That's your difference.

And any time you're both scared AND productive, you teach others to be. You also do wonders for your brain plasticity which will provide longterm help with that fear and anxiety some, too.

I think a good way to live with fear is to examine the reasons you feel it and see what it's trying to tell you, because some of us just have very sensitive radars. Sometimes fear or anxiety protects me from things, when I make sure to look at what I'm afraid of most in a time and find a path through it or around it.

For exposure to Benign Chronic Fuckits, try calling the friend or coworker who called in "sick." Visiting this "sick" friend could be fundamental to both of your recoveries.

If your friends don't need quotes when they call in sick, we have good news you can share with them:

You can buy Fuckital over the counter! Just ask that bizarrely cheery pharmacist!
krystale: (Default)
I cannot even explain how amazing Pasqwall was yesterday. (Now last week.)
I was having a panic attack in the bathroom, trying to dress.
And so I called, "Pasqwall."
and he appears, hops up on the counter.
"Mommy's anxious."
And so he starts purring and headbutting me. Puts his paws up on my chest for a second or two, soft paws, no claws, then stands on the counter getting me to pet him and such. I was sucking at petting, just crying, and so I just put a hand against his head and he leaned into it and laid down and purred against it. It helped calm me down some.
"Mommy's stressed. She doesn't know what to wear and if she should even take a shower, cuz washing my hair is too much and I'm already late and I don't like the shower and I..."
And Pasqwall hops up, turns over and starts licking his ass. I know that if someone is reading this, they might not get why that matters. But P doesn't wash his ass on the counter. He starts with the middle of his back, anyway. (He spends tons of time in my presence, very little time grooming, yet is long furred and perfectly coiffed. It's creepy.)
So, what I got was that I should just clean the stinky bits real quick.
"I could do that," I said. And he immediately stopped and hopped off the counter and left.
And I hopped in the shower and went on.

(And now that I've typed that he hardly grooms, he's doing it randomly constantly now. Cats.)

When animals are caring, I hear a lot of people brush it off, "oh, well, that's how animals are." And things like, "well, they're smart."
OK, and yes, I agree.
So, I'd just like to put in this pitch, we ought to get more in touch with our animal sides, because no human has so calmly, quickly and without taking it personal at all helped me in a panic attack. Most humans pull away.
Most humans pull away to the point that it takes weeks even for the good ones to get through it with me because it scared them. Some people just withdraw more each time and never reclose the distance. Most people just stand farther back and throw bits of helpfulness from there.
But my 15ish pound cat without hesitation came to my aid and even though I was loud and crying and sounding angry, approached the situation with gentleness and love. Solved it with gentleness and love. Even when I get angry with him for helping, he still does. (Mind you, when I'm feeling well, he does me the great honor of misbehaving as much as possible to keep me on my toes and in shape.)

Some of the best "people" I know aren't people.


Mar. 23rd, 2013 11:08 pm
krystale: (Default)

You walk in the stall, you leave a deposit of some form, you cover back up and come out and wash your hands and then you leave.


It's THAT simple.

Inny, outy, doesn't MATTER.

Don't like men? Then why are you looking for dick at the urinal?
You have no right to know what's exposed in a closed stall.
If an inny or an outy sexually assaults you anywhere, yea, fight back.
But in the bathroom...
walk in, leave a deposit, cover back up, wash your hands and LEAVE THAT SHIT BEHIND.

Do you know how many times, in various locations in this country and world, I have used the men's room while wearing a dress and having a vagina?
I've helped penises in pants and dresses use the ladies room when they needed or wanted to for whatever reason. No one touched anyone but themselves or looked at each other's bits.

The lines to women's bathrooms are insanely long.

If men are the primary voice in media and law, WHY do you care if someone in a dress with a penis goes in the WOMEN'S room?

I've known SO many feminine in some form men who were raped IN THE MENS ROOM "to fix" them, when some of them were already straight.

So, clearly, there's shit to be cleared out of bathrooms...
But it's got nothing to do with trans* issues or the room in which we poop or pee.

You can't control my pee or poo.

Even I can't control it as much as I want to, and maybe that's the core issue for the people making this an issue, I don't know.

If you're going to check my bits when I go to the bathroom, or the bits of any of my friends...
Really, I just can't go past that because it's SO ridiculous of a concept.
Then why don't we all just pee outside on trees like dogs, then? Huh?
And by the way, we should split the dog parks into male and female sides and inspect and regulate it and imprison the owners of dogs who offend this rule.


Put your inny or outy back in your clothes, come out of your tiny little stall, wash your hands, leave the bathroom and go work on a real issue.

In my opinion, if you spent your energy on helping people, rather than restricting people, things would get a lot better for everyone a lot faster.
krystale: (Default)
Dissociation, Rambling and Confusion
Krystale being Krystale

What is the dissociation of physical sensation like for me?
You didn't ask, sometimes it's just a lack of the question.
For me, this has been a big part of my life recently.

It's like wearing armor constantly. Great when you're out fighting. But then you go to a cuddle party and you're doing your best because your armor has been there as long as you remember, you've learned how to work with it, how to hug people so it doesn't hurt them and how to value being hugged. It's kinda like jewelry you've worn for years.

But, dissociation isn't the pain, it's not what you don't remember that hurts.
NOT dissociating, then dissociating again IS.

That's like one night at the cuddle party, someone's able to get your armor off for you and they take you out and cuddle you and you like them and they're good and it's amazing and more than you ever imagined it could be like.

But then, then they refuse to ever open it again. People try to help, you reach out, asking, looking, and those willing to try can't, like the stubborn jar. Now, every time someone touches the armor, even though you put on your best face and try to value the hugging, you remember what it was like to feel something under the armor. You're aware that a squeeze and oxytocin are parts of a hug. But the magic touch is nowhere to be found. You start to wonder if any of it was real, but mostly you wish you'd wonder if it was real, because then you'd be able to tell yourself maybe it's not like that and maybe you'd be able to enjoy the armored hugs again.

Now and then you meet someone who can get under a piece of the armor, but they're busy with unarmored people.
People prefer the unarmored, you understand that. Armor is unyielding.
You are grateful for what you can do and can find. You're still grateful, maybe more grateful for the hugs you do get, the touches that can register a little.

But what haunts is the new notion of a layer you can have off, a layer you could be free of, except that apparently what was inside your armor wasn't worth taking out again.

How do you cope with it when the people who see you as you are, pink and tender beneath the armor, slam your helmet shut and run away? Or people's preference to hug unarmored people?
Can it be coped with?

And why do people back away when they could try opening the armor? Are they more afraid of monsters or finding what they want?

Why are people afraid of what they want?

Why pain?

Feb. 25th, 2013 08:21 pm
krystale: (Default)
Those who know me, and some who just met me, know I'm kinky. The most commonly expressed bafflement is pain.
Here's my verbal flashlight for this topic.
Please, do understand that this is MY experience, voice and opinion. I don't claim to speak for anyone in particular other than myself, although I will speak of what I have heard from others. I only have my own experience and I've only talked to the people I've talked to. That's a very small part of reality. I know this.

How can you like pain?
That's a long question that is asked first.
Recently, She-who-wants-not-be-code-named, asked a very good question that I think helps when answered first.

Do you like the pain from being sick or injured?
There have been times that I am able to keep going when something hurts where I am originally wanting to be stopped by it, because I am able to say, well, this is pain, I like pain. I don't enjoy the pain all of the sudden, but the perspective is a bit of a temporary mental acetaminophen placebo. I also have a dissociative disorder, so this may be a way I access that consciously.

This question, for me, cracks right into why I'm a masochist.

I like pain because I don't like pain.

When I have a migraine, abdominal pain from my diverticulitis, back pain or leg cramps from my skeletal abnormalities (I can say literally that my twisted nature is bone deep.) having pain I've chosen to have or had fun receiving is a great distraction and also, I think, has a certain homeopathic effect. My body is long used to my long term pain, it still sounds the alarm in my brain, but often pain relievers don't reach these chronic pain.

Additionally, for me, for some reason, pain has other effects, after I've been spanked, caned, flogged, that lasts far longer than the initial experience of pain. I heal better for a time, not just in my rear end, but in the entirety of my body.

That doesn't even cover the fact that when it hurts, I can relax. My negative thinking almost vanishes, as long as it was done lovingly.

Here are some quotes on pain that I like:

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
― Jim Morrison

“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on.
I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.”
― Jonathan Safran Foer

“Being with her I feel a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest. An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm thankful for it. It's like that frozen pain and my very existence are one.
The pain is an anchor, mooring me here.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain.”
― Madeleine L'Engle

“You," he said, "are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.”
― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls

“Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize that there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There's the little empty pain of leaving something behind - graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There's the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectations. There's the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life they grow and learn. There's the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.

And if you're very, very lucky, there are a very few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realized that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last - and yet will remain with you for life.

Everyone is down on pain, because they forget something important about it: Pain is for the living. Only the dead don't feel it.

Pain is a part of life. Sometimes it's a big part, and sometimes it isn't, but either way, it's a part of the big puzzle, the deep music, the great game. Pain does two things: It teaches you, tells you that you're alive. Then it passes away and leaves you changed. It leaves you wiser, sometimes. Sometimes it leaves you stronger. Either way, pain leaves its mark, and everything important that will ever happen to you in life is going to involve it in one degree or another.”
― Jim Butcher
krystale: (Default)
And now for a little commercial break.
Except, no one pays me anything for my opinions.
And they haven't paid me to keep quiet yet, either.

I often love painting my nails.
Half of the reason I like my nails painted is because it hides that junk under your nails that you just can't avoid all the time no matter how you try. The other half is because people seem to like them.

I've used AQmore peel off, which created some of the best manicures I ever had, but with many hours of work in them. They're very slow to dry, but once set and sealed, last longer than any other polish I've used. However, using peel off regularly needs a month or two off a few times a year, so you nails can grow out without being peeled. Individual uses of peel off are awesome. Long term use ads up, but I found it less damaging than acetone with perfectly clean removal.

I can't use acetone polish remover. I keep it for artistic emergencies or to clean my toilet. (No, really. I use shampoo in the laundry and toothpaste to clean white fabric, too.)

At some point, Hot Topic had squat round containers of nail polish remover pads, they're gone there last I saw, but now available at Claires and Dollar General. They smell nice, feel vaguely oily, but don't dry out my nails, cut through glitter passably well, and get more polish color off than acetone ever did for me, once I wash my hands with soap after. In my experience, acetone leaves a line of color jammed into the cuticle, which interferes with doing another manicure that is lighter.

So, now I'm back on the enamel style polish bandwagon.
My favorite brand so far is Sinful Colors from Rite Aid. Aside from being able to buy it at 3 am, it dries fast and doesn't chip as much as other brands with many colors.
The greatest polish colors in my not humble opinion come from China Glaze, but I find the quality of the polish lacking. Most of it is very slow to dry, even when just one layer of it is used with another brand, where it causes all if them to dry even slower. When it does dry, if I have not put another brand's topcoat on, it chips quickly. Their matte colors have seemed to dry quickly, but still chip easily. I forgive fast drys for chipping more though, as they're easier to touch up.
krystale: (Default)
Today and yesterday, from my writing of this, but perhaps not it's publication, bloggers have been calling each other by full legal name and publicly speaking of one another's behavior, even with some name calling. This made me feel unhappy things.

Well, actually, it's everywhere all the time, but in the advocacy circles I frequent, it's been these last few days pointing within it's own community.

I'm bothered by all this because I think it's going to hurt our cause. Autism advocacy has taken a recent bow, with it being accused of an association to certain recent events and I worry that publishing more negative words will only add negative weight.

My Rumor2 cell phone, which is how I use the internet while at home and nearly "vintage" in terms of functional internet use is not allowing me to post comments on Facebook or blogs today. At first I was frustrated by this, but perhaps my phone is right. I don't need to add weight to the debate. (I'm a poet, don'tcha know it?) There are already a TON of both positive and negative comments on all the statuses and blogs.

On the internet, it's possible make an example of someone without using their name and face. You can discuss what behaviors hurt YOU and how maybe YOU would have liked to have handled it.

Every person everywhere has some valid points.
Every person everywhere has things they've done wrong.
Everyone everywhere could improve.

I don't think we need to attack or correct one another. No one of us knows any full truth, not even one's own.
We all have something to teach, but I believe we should lead by example.

I find it impressive that these bloggers and FBers are so skilled with words. The lead point of the articles are often very good. And their passion is amazing!

I wish I could write words with such impact that gathered so much attention.
That kind of power could change the world.

I would try to use it to change the world to a nicer place filled with kind words and patience.

We all make mistakes, we all say stupid things, we all have some points that are very good and others will struggle to see, we all have reactive times, we all have times of good intentions. We all need forgiveness and gentleness and positivity and we are all capable of forgiveness and gentleness and positivity.

Every person everywhere has some valid points.
Every person everywhere has things they've done wrong.
Everyone everywhere could improve.

We each have a voice.

We each have the choice of how to use that voice.

I hope people choose to use it for positive.
I hope I accomplish positive with mine.

Turning the other cheek is not weakness.
When someone attacks you, it's reflex to attack back, verbal or otherwise, which is why it's given a different name, "self defense," but hurting someone in self defense when you didn't have to doesn't magically not hurt. It takes a LOT of strength to not attack back.

Besides, ignoring someone is the biggest insult you can give; negative attention is still attention.

We all continue to rant and say things and degrade after we've made our point, sometimes even when that point is well made these rants can ruin the entire impact. I saw that in these posts, too, so I think I'll stop now, just in case I haven't done that yet.

Go in peace friends, it's a world waiting for your beauty to bloom and bring the garden to life.
krystale: (Default)
I do a reading periodically, cast my cards.
I tend to get more truth than even I like.
But life goes on.
My point of interest on this currently is gender in tarot readings.

Being gender queer myself, I am unsure of my gender myself, never mind my tarot reading status. The tarot deck, regardless of it's variety, is heavily laden with gender roles, strong men and strong women. I often begin by casting one or two cards that represent me at the time and base my gender for the reading on this.

In many ways, it doesn't matter.

In other ways, it can be helpful to grasping a reading.

I have a number of gender queer people in my life, how am I to understand where they are indicated as well?

So, my pondering is, what is the core of the gender roles at the origin of these definitions?
Were women considered the gentle, compassionate, intuitive, caretaking role and men strong controlling forces?

Most cards I interpret by simply removing the gender. A person of strong character, or a person of influence, a person wealthy in some way.

But are there generalized stereotypes of men and woman that could be kept in mind to help define these a little more? In the language of tarot, would a controlling woman be a different sort of force than a controlling man?

I assume my deck to be based on appearance and personality type, rather than bits, except in the cases of mother figures. If you give birth, you're a mother in this conceptual way to me. You can identify as male, but you clearly have innie pink bits or it wouldn't have happened. (Yet, in history at least.)

I would REALLY like to hear other people's opinions on this.

If you are unfamiliar with gender debate, please consider your replies carefully (actually everyone everywhere should) as here I am not debating gender roles, I am curious about the part gender roles play in tarot cards and tarot readings and any tarot-gender history and herstory.

And now, a poetry intermission.
The first two are new, the third is an older one added because I wanted to.

Good pain,
bad pain,
rattan cane.

One weal, two weal, three weal, four,
five weal, six weal, shouldn't be more.

If you're suicidal,
loving until it kills you
is as good a method as any.

And now a few words on a changed opinion.

I used to believe that spell check would be the death of my, and others', ability to spell words correctly for ourselves.

I am proud to say, I can spell words now, without help, that I could not when my computer of use did not have spellcheck. Seeing a word underlined when it is incorrect has helped me notice my common misspellings. After all, I wouldn't have typed or written them that way if I'd thought it was incorrect.

When I misspell a word and use spellcheck to correct, I take a tiny moment to look at the correct spelling, to point my mistake out to myself.
I give myself a moment to go, "aah, that" and move on.

I am proud to say that my spelling is better, so I guess I am proud to say I was wrong in opinion.

And maybe that I can admit to it, too.

And just for the record, I LOVE that I can type a word into my iPad, select it, then choose "define."
krystale: (Default)

While life is not about material things, some material things, such as those found here, are delightful anyway.
Both my flogger and cane were purchased from the vendors who made them, although they do have or may have other items which are stocked from suppliers.

Pocket Squares for flagging in custom fabrics finished by
Make It Sew (Rutland, Vermont)

Houndstooth, maroon and purple sequin fabrics for flagging from
JoAnn Fabrics

Rope from Rope Extremes

Flogger from Dominance Loving Leather

Rainbow Acrylic Cane from KJ Canes

If you order from these folk, let them know you heard of them from Krystale.

After a rocky start on Saturaday morning, I made it to Portsmouth, NH for the Seacoast Kinky Con and only missed the first class period. It was quite a long drive for me, but the roads I used in NH were fairly smooth sailing, except some delay in roadwork after the toll.
Like so many cities, Portsmouth contained at least this one long stretch of massively commercialized properties. There was so much to see that there's so much to miss. Once found, the Frank Jones Center is easy to find again, but before that, it's a challenge. I'd been circling, lost, until I recognized DragonScott in a passing car and turned to follow him.

The parking situation was adequate, although the parking slips were insanely narrow.

There was a "security dog" at the door, adorable in fur paws available from one of the vendors inside, with matching ears and a fluffy tail who won best pet at the end of the weekend. There was a sandwich baggie of puppy biscuits taped to the door. Upon closer inspection, they were Scooby Snacks dog biscuit shaped, I think, graham crackers.

As is common and understandable at these sorts of events, a liability waiver is required to be signed at the door before you can enter the event, even before you pay for your ticket. Sixty dollars for a two day pass to all these classes seemed pretty reasonable to me. I am unsure if preordering tickets would have saved me any money, by the time my money cleared on Friday, online ticket sales were closed. The website said you MAY be able to buy tickets at the door. MAY was bold, so I was a little uncomfortable making reservations and driving out without being certain, but for me, it was worth the risk.

Welcome and Announcements were wrapping up as I arrived, and I overheard over the PA system that the first couple to get into a 69 position would win T shirts as well as a few other things for T shirts.

The masses swarmed out and shuffled to the classes available, starting immediately. I managed a seat by the door, as chairs were circled two deep, of Ecstatic Impact Play. Switchme, the instructor, does great work, but I personally found the class more to be a voyeur event than a learning experience, but it may be simply that for me, impact play isn't a disciplinary measure, it's an intimate experiece and a gift, so it was more observation than new techniques for me. For me, spanking and various impact play, most of my kink, actually, is sensual and affectionate within it's brutality as this class suggested people try. Mecha was demo bottom first and I'd have been very jealous if not for my own ass's discomfort in the conference center seats as the result of the heavy spanking I'd been issued on Friday night. I did enjoy how Switchme worked, the maintaining of contact, swapping up of implements within one session, perhaps as being a bottom inclined person in this scenario, it was more something to envy than learn from.
It was well worth watching, I'm not sure what more I could have learned, but I was itching for new information in general.

The half hour breaks between classes revealed the vendors room and the cafe. The cafe served sandwiches for $2, drinks for $1, soups and the special hot meal for $4 was Shepherds Pie on Saturday and Lasagne on Sunday.

I checked out all the vendors early on, well over a dozen, but was determined to wait until Sunday before making any purchases, at least initially.

It's Okay to Hit Them (So Long as They're Into That) by Roughinamorato was next for me and was a very good class. We discussed common struggles and issues in coming to terms with your own kink, the struggles of men to overcome conditioning that they are bad if they hit girls, girls that being submissive makes them weak or being dominant makes them bad (depending on cultural variations) and the gender stereotypes effecting people of "non-traditional" couples, although the stereotyped binary arrangement was very commonly in evidence even within the Con's populous. There was some provocative thoughts in this class and I really enjoyed it. This class was mostly a facilitated discussion and I was able to contribute quite a bit. At one point Roughinamorato demonstrated Dom/sub relations looking bad to outsiders by being rather rough with his demo bottom, calling her to him and then grabbing and holding her by the throat and lifting her onto her toes some that way, while she made little strangled noises. Many people gasped. I just got jealous and wet. I adore being held that way, I have no idea why and it is a struggle for me to accept that, but I was in the right class to process those feelings. I get guys who try to romance me, and they have NO idea what it takes to rock my world.

I wandered out and back into the same room for the next class, DMing 101 with AdelineKindred. This was a CLASS, we LEARNED. The first thing I learned is that I'm a gamer dork, because DM stands for Dungeon Monitor, not Dungeon Master. LOL We discussed the qualities and responsibilities of a DM. From what I learned I now feel ready to throw my own parties and run the munches with more skill and qualification and know how to handle the issues that were holding me back from doing so previously. We were put together in groups and created rules for different types of events and discussed why. There was a distinct feel of being taught the basics, yet being required to figure it out and decide for ourselves, which was great because that kind of independence and initiative are really important parts of being a DM. Additionally, AdelineKindred is quite easy on the eyes with a speaking style capable of making the whole audience feel he's in a private conversation with each of us.

Next up was ChewToy: Erotic Biting with Jefferson, who is so damned cute, most specifically in personality. He set off my gaydar but I think he's omnisexual. He was swishy and sweet and sassy with flair. Lots of flair and a generous helping of humor. He got some audience participation and demonstrated safe ways to bite and bruise without dangerous effects, places to avoid and the like. The two big parts of the demo were a girl who got bite mark "seams" up the back of her legs, mimicking seamed stockings and a gentleman who got wings on his back made of bite marks. The class degraded a little bit, a few couples getting into their own biting practice. There was a couple by the door that I found rather distracting and bothersome, but it's bound to happen. (Bound. lol)
After class I walked up to Jefferson and explained I really like bites and that my currently top is not a biter, would Jefferson be willing to give me a shoulder bite? I was in chest binding and a muscle T style shirt, so he had to bite towards the outside of my shoulders and he just held for quite a while, rocking his teeth, his hands rubbing my arms affectionately. I told him after I also liked symmetry as he'd said he did, so if he didn't mind, may I have the other shoulder, too? He did, then poked and smacked both bites several times. As I write, the finest lines of his bottom teeth are still visible in remaining marks these three days later, and they're still something I can feel if I poke them. (Editing note: Now 6 days later, the lines from his bottom jaws are fine lines but distinct still.)

I wandered out to look at the vendors again so that I could have the night to ponder what I really wanted. I had a number of ideas and a limited budget, but when I saw a rainbow glitter filled acrylic cane, I caved and got that immediately, as it was the only one of it's sort, there were many sparkle filled, but only one rainbow striped sparkles. My affection for rainbow glitter may cross past casual. KJ Canes was the vendor and I got to speak to the delightful woman who actually made the cane.

After some confusion I found room 2 and attended Packing your Toybag & Setting Up Your Scene by AdelineKindred. This was another information rich class. He actually packed and unpacked several toybags, and brought up lots of good points like bearing in mind that others may need to move your toybag and considering the location you're bringing it to. There was good information on setting and maintaining your scene in a group or party setting, but at that time of the day, about 2000, I was getting a little low retention.

I made my way to my motel, Port Inn, just about across the street, and was checked in. Port Inn was a nice place, there was a small kitchen in my room, a king sized bed. It was great to just sit around watching Nick at Night and able to use the free wifi to surf online from the comfort of a bed. That alone was a nice treat, as typically I have to sit in my car to use the internet.

Sunday morning I got up and enjoyed the crisp freshness of hotel clean towels. The bed was pretty dang comfy and I'd slept rather well and woken up 14 minutes before my alarm was set for, fairly perky and emotionally ready for my day. I took my time getting ready and went easy on myself with timeliness. I thought I was running late, but I'd misread the schedule. The free breakfast at the motel was pretty good, some nice breads, some pastries, bagels and a toaster, cream cheese, peanut butter and jam, orange juice, cranberry juice, coffee, yogurt. I made myself sandwiches for later and got back to the Frank Jones Center for day two of the Seacoast Kinky Con.

I made it in only two sentences late, just after the intro for Lord Percival in his Pressure Points 116. The girl I got paired with told me I must be a slave because I couldn't press her points hard enough. I let it go. Frankly, she's a stranger and pressure points aren't supposed to require heavy pressure. I can jab overly hard and make it hurt anywhere. I simply told her that while I've been dominant, I've never topped for pain. Lord Percival delivered a lot of information in a short period of time, and took the time often to go around the audience and help people first hand. I still have his fingernail scratches in the red polish on my right ring finger nail when he came around to demonstrate that one. He's been kind to me before, so I found it easier to let him press the points than the individual I was paired with. I seem to react to points less than many people although I am aware of them when he demonstrated them directly on me. There were points for pain, points for relaxation and some for control.

Next for me was Intro to Energy Play with DragonScott. I really liked his class, but much of is was very familiar to me. I'd first done some of those exercises at summer camp at 11/12 years old. However, most people didn't have that opportunity. I've walked friends through some of the exercises that DragonScott taught the class, so I did a little extra with my partner, but it was a really great class. I've seen it in some VASE surveys and always wanted to take it with him as his Kinky Applications of Martial Arts class was awesome and I could feel how well tuned his energy was. Also, I'd seen him react to my energy before as well. The moves he taught us at the end were probably familiar to many who know martial arts, but I knew them only through seeing Angel and a few other television heros do them. I still don't know what they were called, but I remember some of the moves and bits of the story that go with it, about the elements. As I said, I'd taken these sorts of classes before, but here I was impressed by the fewer per capita of folks NOT feeling the energy. In the spirituality classes I've taken, there's usually more people who don't feel the energy or react.

After Energy Play, still within the classroom, a man walked up to me and said, "just so you know, I've seen you around yesterday and today and you're awesome."
I don't remember him, I wasn't even registering it before we both moved on and that people memory issue thing I have. But he really made a great day personally great. I got it in my head about then that I wanted to be a part of the production of Kinky Con next year as a result. Well, I already wanted to, and that man made me feel like maybe it was a good idea and I really could do it, perhaps. So... thanks dude. (Oh god... I hope it was a dude. I identified some masculinity, but who knows. The swishier the better I say, there was a vendor there and she had a male bodied Mistress, we all hit it off rather well.)

Between second class and third, I circled the vendors again, still pondering what I wanted to purchase. There were things I liked that cost more than things I also liked, but not as much, but proportional to the price. I was having trouble deciding on rope colors.

Third class had me in Letting Out Your Dominant Side by AdelineKindred again. For this day, AdelineKindred was looking delightful with hair half pulled back, well done makeup, earrings, tatas and a puff sleeved shrug. We discussed qualities required to be a good dom. We ran through some practice scenarios, following provided scripts. Someone asked how you stay dominant when someone is taller than you. AK called for someone tall and a rather towering fellow who identified as dominant and had the low voice for it came forward. There was a brief negotiation, AK was clear and direct always, as seems to be AK's way, then they began and a total change came through AK. Something completely overwhelming yet intangible, nothing had changed externally in the room, yet AK was distinctly a woman. Not feminine. A woman. She circled this towering guy with a viscously delighted smile on her face, like a lioness circling her own herd. She checked him up and down, from the front, from the back, then again from the front. She complimented his knees when she stood before him again, and finished with "they'd look better on the floor." He dropped to his knees without question and she circled him again. She paused, facing his back, and said gleefully with a wicked grin and an added victorious glance into the audience, "not taller than me anymore."
::blush, LOL::
I do NOT know why some of the stuff makes it out of my mouth.
So, she says something else, there's some audience exchange of other people who noticed the gender shift. Then there's a pause and I open my mouth to breathe and smile and out of my damn mouth comes,
"just so you know, you have adorable dimples."
She smiled and looked a little... I'm not sure what. The faintest hint of caught off guard? I don't know, cuz she veiled it with, "I only have one."
Again my mouth opens and I listen to myself, "Well. That is the side I could see from here and it IS adorable."
And she blushed.
I have a serious problem. I like making girls blush. Any girl, bio, trans or fluid flash.
Anyway, after class I thanked AdelineKindred for teaching the classes that AK had, complimenting instructional style as well as a generally enjoyable delivery with a lot of smiles. I tried to be quick, I'm pretty sure I seemed like a creepy freak, but AK made an impression and it takes a lot for me to remember someone.

Truth be told, I AM a creepy freak.
I am.

Not even all of the instructors made enough of a unique impact on me for my memory to hold anything at all of them. In my memories, Seacoast Kinky Con is empty. I wander it alone, though the voices are there. There's a shimmer available, like the blinding flash when someone opens a door and the reflected sunlight in the glass hits your eye, it shimmers over and interactions I watched play a few screen shot photographs before the room is empty again.

Despite what an individual I paired with said, I'm not a slave.
I have to work HARD to be submissive. It is NOT easy for me. Being a care taker, sure, but that's not even slightly the same as submissive. You can care from someone and it's often dominant.
Dominance comes naturally to me, but when I use it, it usually has such powerful effects that it went ill for me. Usually resentment builds up, or most often, people simply shy away from me, tell me I'm scary or intimidating. "You scare them" is far too common a statement I hear. I don't know why. I just speak the truth as I see it when it feels right to me. I don't see how I'm scary.
I was raised to be a woman and women are not supposed to be dominant.
And frankly, I don't really enjoy it.
Unless she'll blush.
Get her to blush and I'll circle.
I can't help it. It's delicious.
This is why I have such a problem with (X). She's such a blusher.
A girl blushes and something vicious comes out in me. Feels delightful to me, but they don't seem to think so?
::chuckle, snort, sigh::
Ooooh, Krystale, Krystale, Krystale.

Where the hell was I?

Oh, after thanking AdelineKindred for awesome classes, I tried to go to Predicament Bondage by NHKinksterCouple. But my attention span was SHOT.
They'd put on chest harnesses previously and were demonstrating very well, it was brilliant. Something about a clip to a hem, a string over a bar connecting thumbs to hem clip, so she had to keep her arms held up or her skirt would go up, then having an instability cushion to stand on, THEN another string from her thumbs to the other girl's nipple clamps. It was amazing.
And my brain went
just like that. So I went out and just wandered a bit while it really was more empty.
I purchased my flogger, choosing a soft frayed and rebraided rope cat nine, although I also rather wanted the one that was soft tails with mixed in plastic "barbed wire" that was more expensive. I chose the one I did primarily due to the fact that the vendor had made it himself (Unless I got that impression incorrectly.) and that searching on ebay did not yeild much of any similar results. I chose the braided rope over the heavier options as I have a suede one already and would like something my current top might try.

Since vending was ending at the same time as the class I skipped out of, I headed over and bought my rope, 30 foot lengths of red and black nylon, 50 fool lengths of white and red paracord.

For my final class I made my way to Tickle Torture with P.E.T.E. He cautioned of safety and then got into tickle tools and ways to tickle. Beltar had Muppet bound to a massage table with a number of belts, with more belts tight around Muppet, keeping his arms and legs bound. The end of class degraded into most of us tickling Muppet. Someone interjected and asked about people orgasming from tickling and I raised my hand after no one else had anything to say on the subject. P.E.T.E immediately asked what I was doing next year. So, maybe we know now. The woodsman has already clearly been thinking about it because he's already teased me about how I'm going to be bound and helpless squirting all over the place because they're going to find my ticklish spots because they're going to try everywhere.
Naughty, naughty, woodsman.

Closing ceremonies where hard to pay attention to as I had two days of foot ache setting in, but biggest Slut and "Most likely to go home with someones" both went to Jefferson, the instructor I'd had for ChewToy. It was an emotional wrap up, with best tits going to the girl in charge, who tearfully thanked us and many helpers topless. Who could complain?

All in all, it was an awesome weekend and I can't wait to go back next year.

I know someone I could bring along who has the power to put helpless me from tickled to orgasmic by breathing on me.
(Actually, she has that power with fully abled me, too. LOL)


Nov. 9th, 2012 04:08 pm
krystale: (Default)
( like everything here, this is copyrighted to me and only me, except to the limitations of dreamwidth to post them here.)

What know I of love?

Love is loyal, love is kind.
True love is unending.

Yet immortality is fiction.

Perhaps then
sands are the shards
of the broken hearts
of the stone cold
and the rock solid.

There would be hope,
then, for her heart and mine,
the cold warmed
and the shards swimming together,
when the tide rides high again.
Where once we had been fixed,
then immobile,
side by side,
now broken,
we can stretch out upon the shore,
intermingling in tides and change,
loosing pieces and gaining pieces,
still ourselves, but wide open
and overlapping.

Metaphors are pretty things,
but what know I of love?
krystale: (Default)
Sunday, November 4th

(This day was the RACKshop on Gender and Sexuality in Burlington, VT.
RACKshops are the work of VASE.
Vermont Alternative Sexuality Education
found at
This is edited excerpts from my personal journal which is visible by request and arrangement only, not publicly as this journal is.)

Wintersong looked a lot like Chance. And I initially took Wintersong for trans because of something distinctly but subtlety female but about him in my perception when simply being close to him in the event room before the event began, though it became clear through discussion and some pictures that he is a cisgendered male.

Cisgender, when described as a way to identify non-trans as something other than "normal" made sense.

Once again, I was the best dressed. (I suppose it's natural I think so... but... Well, I kinda was. LOL)

So many things reminded me how much I like Chance and how awesome she is.

Many many other things reminded me how very very much I really would rather be waiting for epic sex with someone I love than have mediocre sex with the whole city. Even though mediocre sex with lots of friends does have very appealing elements to it. (Viewers of my private journal are already aware of my twisted interest in having a committed partner who butts into my journal and tells me to play with certain people and then go see my partner for a scene-ish retelling and remarking and love and mutual pleasure. And now, people of the public can learn this. Sorry, Mom.)

I'll be trying to bring VASE events down here. VASE has been looking to do so for quite some time, but didn't have a willing someone down here to help it happen. They really liked my Wilson Castle idea. This will be good for me and quite in line with what I'd like to do with my life and time, although a bit ahead of what I'm comfortable with wanting to do. lol)

We talked about sex outside of a typical cisgendered straight vanilla sex context. I can't say that very much of any of it was new information for me, but it was well presented and enjoyable. The new perspectives were valuable to hear on the information I already knew.

They talked about the very poor quality of phalloplasty, (wow, my iPad knew that one) and also the frequent loss of sexuality and sensation for transwomen. (Two opposites, but they're the same point in my current use.) Loosing sexuality is a hard limit for me.

I DO fall into the umbrella of trans.
It's just that I had years ago accepted that my mental "physical" identity and my physical physical identity don't match.
Well, maybe not accepted, but learned to live with? I guess that is acceptance.

Despite the woodsman's heavy handed hitting last night, I hardly feel it today. I can a LITTLE, I am aware of it if I stop to THINK about it.
That means I'm blocking it some. It means the woodsman is no breaking through the dissociation as well now that he's familiar.
Oh well, it's still a good outlet and enjoyable.
We'll keep encouraging him to up it. There are kinksters who kink in a way that they can still feel it a week later and if I'm not getting much often I'd not mind that AT ALL.
Knowing me, I wouldn't mind it even if I was getting it often. (This is why a cautious trustworthy dominant is so important.)

Winter said transmen are different from cismen because they seem to retain the ability for multiple orgasms, their refractory period is low or none.

Chance was like that.

So, I liked Winter also because he spoke of being (and diagnosed as) gender dysphoric and yet identifies in interactions as his physical sex.

The resemblance to Chance really was too much for me. It really was... I don't know. I questioned reality a little bit.

The resemblance physically, the glasses and gender dysphoria... I can't help but think that this is a pointer towards genetics having a factor in trans* issues.

No doubt to other people the resemblance would be not so much. I do confuse people, although people do agree there's resemblance in those I confuse. But the shaved head and the rectangular glasses and the arm hair (don't ask, it's not a thing, it's just a trait I noticed in this case, as I am VERY poor at facial recognition and have to memorize visible unchangeable details about people) and the general build and the way he tucked his T shirt into his jeans complete with the whole crease between the belly button and top of the belt loop.

Winter spoke of being disabled, but not of his disability. I noticed muscle ticks though in his shoulders at times, over the day, though. His glasses lenses were two different strengths, I think, or his eyes didn't always track together. (People may be unaware that these are not discriminations but observances on my part. I am frequently bothering people with them and that is part of MY disability. Making these sorts of observations is the only way I can remember people, however.)

The frames for his glasses were awesome. Black rectangles and the sides were like four angled little slats like cabinet doors or vehicle grilles or.. what are those... louvered shades?

Chance's leather pants came to mind. (I got them for her, but am unsure how much she actually likes them.)

There was something distinctly female to me about Wintersong when I first encountered him by the coffee table. I really thought him trans* before I even knew he was the facilitator, I was surprised he wasn't and was unsurprised when he mentioned a gender dysphoria diagnosis.

He has a latex allergy. (I do not, but HATE the taste of latex and put it in me anywhere and I can taste it. For days. I. C. K. Y.)

The urban tree wrangler and I both took a bunch of condoms and poked fun at one another for not really intending to use them. (I dunno... I hear the flavored ones make a passable substitute for bubble gum. LOL I was going to ROFL, but the floor is cold.)

Ivy's on my knee. (That's my old lady grey cat.)
Pasqwall is going insane. (That's my kitten.) He stopped going insane to watch Mr. Grey jack off onto Lee's ass, then went back to going insane.
(Watching Secretary.)

I don't want to have safer sex with a bunch of people I don't really feel.
I want to bareback with someone I trust. If then it's decided I'll also have safer sex with others, that's fine. If I have somewhere I feel safe and know I am loved and will feel good, then fucking to make others feel good is fine, although, not a real need, just a fun idea.

Everyone there spoke in a way that indicated an incredibly casual idea of sex.

I miss sex being sacred.

I've been thinking more of taking T. I wouldn't mind my voice dropping, or my clit growing (seriously, it knows phalloplasty but not clit? WTF spell check. Clitoris it knows, but not clit. Weird.) but I wouldn't want more facial hair. I already have a hit of mustache and I'd rather not, so I'd have to do T and electrolysis. And can the world handle me MORE horny? No. lol Seriously though, THAT is my biggest concern. That procedure where they drop your clit has appeal. (It's in my iPad's dictionary, but not it's spell check? WHAT?)

Cocklet. Giggle.
Hen. Instead of cock, hen.

But my favorite was "cockpit" instead of "front hole" which the urban tree wrangler and I agreed we didn't like. I told the tree wrangler she was my favorite non-sexual partner.
Seriously. LOL When it comes to someone I can really open up and talk about all the details of sex about without having sex with, it's the tree wrangler.
SHE said she is glad to be non-sexual with ALL her friends, so sorry, but I'm not a favorite.

Thanks, Urban. Thanks. LOL

I spoke off to the side to Winter about concern of having told a trans partner that I would love them also if they felt cisgender again ever. We had just spoken about genderfluid and how even among trans*, people can change their mind back.

It still occurs to me that when I hit menopause might be a decent time to take T and go out as a bit of an old man rather than just a bearded dried up bitter old woman.

With Chance, I LIKED being femme, I enjoyed having a twat.

I identified as femme because I rebelled against the masculinity people have always told me they see in me, plus, I LOVE fantastic dressing up. But I'm more of a doll about it than a woman about it. I need EVERY detail of my outfit to match. It's not just clothes, it's an outfit, an ensemble.

Oh, so I told Winter I worried about that whole love bit a few line breaks up, but that it came from a place of understanding the fluidity of gender (and also from seeing her as [legal name] at work and with her family and knowing her medical issues as well as the cost factor and the fact that being an old man is easier than an old woman and because sometimes people are more than one thing and how delicious and talented and christmas in her pants her cock is and, honestly, sure, selfishly I'm wanting her to keep it [where I can lick it] but I didn't say this babbly part in these parenthesis to him) and wanting her to understand that I loved her no matter what.
Winter said he could see how that could be a problem to trans* with a distinct binary perception of gender.
It's not that I want Chance to be or not be [legal name]. It's that I recognize that Chance is many things, many people and roles even, and recognize that she may change (or seem to for me perhaps while on a cyclic pattern of her own that is new to me).

I know her by feeling. The nouns, or seeing her as female even while she's Daddy with Erika or six plus inches into me isn't an issue. She's a being, an entity, a spark of life, a sentient cluster of energy powering a physical mass.

I got some more gloves. And some condoms which I'll keep safe to offer at whatever party I throw.
Oooh, or in a candy dish somewhere obvious.

Being at the RACKshop...
so many memories. The day was two experiences at once, the event itself and the constant internal string.
I wore my corset the first half, but then something had disagreed with my stomach and I was in the bathroom a good six times in an hour. I was relieved... oh dear, that was accidental... [dang it]... that most of that time overlapped with the lunch break.

People were pretty friendly to me.
I got a lot of laughs as well as contributing quite a bit.

When talking about ways to play with gender and Winter said that it's not really one of his specialties (he's a needle top, "queer" and seemed, in my limited learning of him within this context, to lean to cis and trans* men.

Apparently people use a * now. WHATEVER. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM IS STILL A UNIQUE EQUAL BEING TO ME. SHEESH. Labels frustrate me. Why do you need to define SO much, when it is already accepted. You are you, valid, regardless of what heed I pay it, so I accept. You are as valid as me, each of you.

I don't need labels.
You're you.
You're you.
I'm me.
You're you.
Each of you is a you.
There you have it.
It's not us against them.
It's me and you and you and you and you and you...

I am.
You are.

We talked about how to play with gender in play, aside from just dressing and strapons. I talked about an experience I had with Chance where we were having what might look to outside observers like straight sex but she was talking about what we were doing as if I were the one penetrating her, with me having the cock and being inside her and what a supremely changing effect that had being within the experience.
My story was well appreciated and admired with appreciative sounds.
Winter made a positive reaction I noticed and I said I'd sure like us to do it again and M smiled. (I guess I'm pretty obvious.)

Somewhere in there it was said, while discussing genders and where they're more often stereotypically seen such as female rope bottoms, that despite what pictures portray, actual rope tops tend to prefer large women, some even say the larger the better. That was comforting.
And interesting.

I wrote a scene with predicament bondage once, and she's eventually untied and then retied to fuck, I think. (It's been a while.)
That story was quite me. Girl wanders from shelter of safe place with strong character and has adventures, although also being abandoned for chunks of time in said safe place, disapproving of some of what her partner does and not shy about expressing it and making a stand anyway but loving completely anyway.

The visual highlight of the RACKshop was when M dropped trou and J-D of RU12 demonstrated on her the insertion of a "penetrated partner" condom.
Everyone likes a good show and both M and J-D are seriously enjoyable to gaze upon. (Especially when J-D blushes. Fantastic color there. ::grin::)

[I like the dichotomy of soft and hard.]

I hope I get a happy ending. (The double entendre was not intended... but is a good one. I was speaking in a story sort of way, as in the story of my life, I hope it has a decently happy ending.)

While editing and adding a note up there I mentioned a belt, and remembered someone talking to me on a break. We were talking about how it IS possible to do suspension with a big body and how there IS someone able to do just about any kink things.
"Hell," he said, "some people even like taking a belt." He paused, then said, "I don't get that."
I chuckled.
"I love that. Half inch strap stings more than an inch."
He made what I think was a surprise face of some sort, but I'm not really sure, I DO struggle with these things. It didn't FEEL mean or anything and he neither moved away nor closer, so I think it was OK.

Strap-ons came up during the RACKshop, often thanks to M.
With Chance, strap ons had come up (::snicker::) but I had a hard time talking about it with her because I would have liked to use it on HER and I knew she didn't like men and had sexual assault history, so I didn't want to go into territory she doesn't like because she shuts right down and very nearly won't open back up in that way.
but they came up in the talk and I've been contemplating that.

Also came up was stone butch.
Chance had her stone butch days. Those were fun, so were her head selfish days though. LOL
But I hadn't realized that some of my interests and tendencies would qualify me as stone butch in ways. LOL

I WOULD fuck the daylights out of [don't you wish you knew, it could be you] if she wanted me to, but I do NOT want her fucking me.

Generally, I don't enjoy other people's touches and it is incredibly important to me that the last person who was inside of me was irresistible to me and made me feel so good I was biting the mattress corner and screaming with true sincerity that "I love being the holes you fuck" and just giving into the abandon. With other people, I've had to hide inside my mind and imagine the whole thing differently to accommodate the fact that my twat didn't go with the dick I have in my brain and no one but Chance could ever overwhelm me (in a good way) past that. Part of my disability is dissociation and so I sometimes cannot feel things that other people would in the same circumstances, most often specifically things done to me by a person.

I need to look up blood top, spanking or impact bottom, needle or play piercing bottom.
Yay internet search.
Oh man... does anyone still use Dogpile?

I'd rather play with someone I can trust and taste and crave and enjoy FLESH.
I'd rather wait for what I like than miss it because I was busy settling.
But there are things I'm proud of liking and things I would do with someone if sex can be left out of it, like spanking. And I like the experience of talking to other people about these things even if I'm not interested in doing them with them.

"Flagging for femmes and other people who need an alternative to the back pocket." (Somewhere on Google. Sorry, my blog is written offline and then uploaded later and when I need to look up things online it's with my very low function cell phone and google.)

OK, red is fisting, which I'll wear with pride but not accept from anyone. Red on right. (Right on red. Giggle.)
Maroon is cutting. So maroon for the left.
Fuschia is spanking. What if I get the wrong shade?... On the right.
Purple piercing. Left, although I've some small experience with piercing, more experience than many, but no where near enough to say I can top, and I would like to learn more on this.
And... LOL... I'll need a bit of brown lace for the right. LOL
Leopard for tattoos, having on the left, although, my left HAND has a tat, so it's no secret.
Teddy bear for cuddling. Like... teddy bear print, or a tiny teddy bear? I'd need one for each side. lol
Houndstooth on the right for liking to be bitten. (Left is for liking to bite. (I enjoy biting but don't really urge to do so. But I LOVE being bitten. I like marks I can poke for days on end, especially if they hurt when I sit down. Ahem.)

Where the hell am I going to find brown lace and how do I indicate I prefer it on transwomen? (Don't bother attacking me for this, I am aware that it makes me seem like a "tranny chaser" which is derogatory, both to me and the folks I am honestly attracted to. You like what you like and I like what I like and that is that.)

Shit, I have left and right all mixed up again. (I need a red tat on my right hand, as I am unable to remember right from left and have to do that L thing.)
Winter explained something about the sides, but I didn't comprehend it well.
Regardless, left tops, right bottoms, generally.

Look out, people of Walmart. I'm goin' shoppin'.
krystale: (Default)
(Apparently, this never went live. Here it is, weeks later.)

You can speak your mind honestly with less conflict.
It's not just what you say, it's how you say it.

When correcting a behavior...
"You should..."
provokes defense, and a defensive listener doesn't listen as well, if at all.
In my experience, which was only in the school of hard knocks, you CAN correct someone and get a more positive result.
"You can..." and explain how to do it next time.

Should hurts.
Can gives power.

Today, I was told I "should have come into our office." The speaker hadn't seemed to get that I had done my part, or at least I felt that way and had trouble focusing.
Instead, "you can come into our office with issues like these to get faster results" would have had (agoraphobic) me comfortable enough to come into the office with even less stress than before.

If you didn't use so many mean words people won't ignore so much of what you say.
If you can use as many positive words as possible your message will be taken deeper by more people.

This also shows verb tense as a tool. An accusation of past errors will never be taken as well as advice for the future.

You can give corrections and express emotions with better results and still address what you need to.
You will still need to use negative words, hurt, sad, broken, conflict, without, but minimizing them to when they are truly required keeps them in a better perspective.
this takes practice.

"I never..."
"I've yet to..."

It's also a great thing to do for yourself in how you speak to yourself internally.
krystale: (Default)
Tonight's Redbox rentals are:

Scooby-Doo and the Phantosaor -rent it, it rates the cost in relaxing familiar fun.  6 words: Five Shaggys in a Mustard Machine

Mirror, Mirror -BUY it... for me, please.  lol
I was already into it when the Prince said to Snow, "or did you not learn enough from your spankings?"  The costumes and twists to the traditional plot are great, too.


Today, I've made it outside early enough to catch sight of mysterious paw prints in the dew on my other porch chair which dry even as I write.  They seemed at first to be small cat paws, and perhaps still could be.  There are distinct signs of short fur, which I can tell by the small area dried around each print where the dew remains, but I can also tell because there is a tail print, it is small and contained, with straight lines.  Long fur, like Pasqwall for example, leaves larger areas of affectation around the paw prints more, sometimes blurred further by fur tufts between pads, and long fur tails leave larger, blurrier tail prints, often with squiggles.  I want to say it's a squirrel.   But I've never seen a squirrel up this way in all the time I've lived here.

I've taken pictures, sent one to Facebook to poll my friends, and am letting the chair finish drying.  The dry prints should give me more details.  Because it's some dirt and debris and dust on the chair in significant dew, the moisture essentially sucks away and clings to the chair, making the dirtiest spot where the paw pads each last lifted away.  This will provide clues to how our porch visitor moved.

It also seems of significance to me that all the prints seem to be longer in the toes than two of them.  I suspect the two with short toes to be touches that did not carry weight through them as a step or sit does, as paw shapes can spread and retract as weight is applied, then removed.

My interest in Sherlock Holmes was not the mystery, but the deduction.  I envied his eye for detail and did my best to learn from him.  This is why, unless there's a good character to bond with or cats or recipes or good sex scenes, mystery authors do not hold my attention long.  Sooner or later, you've learned most of what someone has to teach until the writer learns more to share.

Fat floats

Aug. 27th, 2012 08:35 pm
krystale: (Default)
Fat chicks float.
(If you're glaring at me I'll assume you've never seen my body.)
It's not how I wanted to begin, but it's got good rhythm, mantra-like.

If I ask people if they like swimming, the answer I usually get is to a question I didn't ask:  Do you like wearing or being seen in a bathing suit.

Many of the zaftig I know have a secret love of the water snuffed from reality by  low self esteem.

The hell with that, I say.

Girls, and guys, you were MADE for the water.

The point that will displease you most first, but it's a truth:
Wales are insulated with blubber.
That's fat.
You can extrapolate, but it comes down to warmth and buoyancy.

Many voluptuous folk think they can't swim, getting big arms to do those overhand strokes is exhausting, plus, it's not kind to your face and head.  Trying to stay belly down horizontal and swim skinny style is a constant struggle.

Most people never get so far as to notice these details, because they stop at idea of swimming as soon as it comes time to decide what to wear.

Well, then here is where we'll start conquering.
Forget those stupid vacuum body suits unless you're in a wet suit for a serious reason.  The straps dig in your shoulders, exhausting your back and neck, making it harder to move, the confinement of those luscious tatas is restricting your movement, the tightness is making hard to take those deep breaths you need and the leg lines make beautiful girls want to cry over their thighs.

Skip that.

Find yourself a tank top, not baggie, but certainly not tight or fitted.  The best ones for swimming are those pretty ones you have but like less in summer than the cotton... because you sweat like crazy in it and it doesn't absorb.  You may already have one hanging in your  closet.  Mine are from Fashion Bug a few years ago.  They have lovely lace trim or animal prints.  That nonabsorbency will help you dry faster.

Leave the bra off.

Find yourself some sport shorts you like, or nylon panties and a skirt, or a skort.  Find something you like wearing, the less cotton the better, so long as it's washable, but you want it a little snugger and shorter than you'd wear as street clothes, because water will drag fabric.

Find a simple cotton dress you like for after swimming, something you can pull over your head, so you can drop your bottoms inside it and shimmy on some dry cotton undies even if there's nowhere to change.  Many of us are skilled enough too drop the tank top that way, too.

Now you're clear to get in the water.  Get nice and deep and forget swimming.  Just stay standing and... well... walk.  Move like you're weightless in space.  Your boobs and body shape will work WITH this.

In fact, you may find you LIKE having your picture taken when you're mostly in the water.  Trust me, without the bra your boobs will never look better than when you're standing deep in water.  And because you're not squished into something, they'll actually LIFT up and away, helping your balance and giving your shoulders more relief than you can imagine while helping to pull open your chest so you can breathe deeper.

If you have abdominal pain from health concerns, the floating and water pressure may be incredibly soothing, when this stand up approach to movement is used.

I get exhausted walking to the end of my street on summer days... and I don't mean the far end.  But swimming is another story.  I can last hours in the water without discomfort (until bedtime that night, it IS a workout after all) and can tow my friends around on their floaties like I'm walking with a bundle of balloons.

"Who needs a motor when we have Krystale," my friends have said.

If you need to rest for a while, float on your back.  You won't need to kick much to get impressive movement.

You may worry about going out deep and getting tired.  People worry about drowning.  

Never mind that there's a swimming technique called "dead man's float."

Fat chicks float.

If you relax, your body will tend to float, just roll or turn gently until it's in a way where your face is up, spit the water out and breathe calmly.  Sometimes, you have to turn your head to the side, or breathe through your nose, but your body can do this.  Any body can, but that fat is an aqua advantage.  It's boyant.

Drowning is often caused by panic or a knock to the head.  Avoid these, not just in the water, but everywhere.

If your self esteem is really low or it's a cranky  day or you just don't like people, don't skip the water.  Go to a lake, arrive in your bathing suit with your swim shoes or flip flops on and everything you need on a bag for the shore.  Walk right down to the water, drop your bag (with extra plastic bags in it for wet stuff) and keep walking into the water, then swim out deep.

You can carry valuables easily by tying a string to an empty screw top bottle who's opening is large enough for what you want to carry.  Tie the other end of the string into a handle to slip around your  wrist.  You can "carry" half filled water bottles this way, too, so you can sip something other than lake water, cuz that ain't lemon.

You won't need a tube, they'll tire you out more.  The more of your  weight that is above the water, the more you have to contend with your weight.  If you want floaties, try arm floaties, or harder gallon jugs, like Hawaiian Punch bottles.  You can sit on a bottle sort of like a bicycle seat, or you can lay on it with it between your boobs to float better belly down, or you can put one under each arm if you want.  Tie these to strings, too, they're a pain to move with, but they'll float along behind like a wheeled pull toy on a string.  Once you learn to float, floaties are just for fun.  Your body will let you float at a relaxed state any  moment you're not moving and the water will hold you gently.  Your skinny friends have to work much harder to stay afloat, while you simply move and rest.   

For many zaftigs, once you get the hang of it, staying active and moving in the water becomes SO easy, thanks to the relief from carrying your own weight, that getting out of the water is unpleasant.  Gravity suddenly reappears.  Boo.

But no matter, now that you've gotten the hang of it, you can transform into a mermaid any time you want to come back.
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