Monday, December 29, 2008

Nada but Crap

Nothing at all interesting is happening.

Christmas Eve, I slaved and made 2 apple pies (which I keep automatically typing applie pies) and 2 vegetarian stuffings (which I am still eating since there were only 7 of us, and not 15 like I had dreamed). Great dinner with new and old friends. Lots of drinking and one embarrassing fart at 3am. I'm trying not to remember it.

I have left my apartment, since Friday 19th, a total of 3 times. Once to see the Italian. Once for Xmas dinner. Once for my friend's birthday out on the town. The rest of the time I've forced myself to at least take a walk around the block or do grocery shopping. I'm turning into Jabba the Hut. But seriously (which I've learned is spelled "srsly" in the www), my staycation (which I've learned is vacation-at-home) has been editing and uploading photos, acquiring new music (mostly from, such as Pas Chic Chic, BBC Music Magazine Sampler, The Walkmen, Rodriguez, Bonobo, Heart, Ida Maria, The Pretenders, Pawel Osmolski, Black Mountain, Flying Lotus, The Cinematic Orchestra, Santogold, The Beatles, Lou Reed, Mr. Scruff, Kanye West, Télépopmusik, etc), watching movies (Contact, Virgin Suicides, American Beauty, Y Tu Mama Tambien - in Spanish without subtitles, There Will Be Blood), and then realizing that I have five papers due at the end of January, which should all be written now. So, I pushed one out over Saturday and Sunday and started on another today. I think my ass is taking on the form of the crap chair I sit in.

Friends have called to go out and I've been recluse and bored. A bit of depression for my manic. Yes, the internet has been my world of late. Rather pathetic, and really not a good use of time. I should be job hunting and networking and researching. Not goofing off and Tumblring and Facebooking. Sigh. The internet is my enemy.

In preparation for the new year and my annual superstition that I need to be doing something positive at midnight, I'm going to take a nice, long walk tomorrow in no direction whatsoever. Then, I'll work at least several hours on the current paper. I'm eating a fresh salad and will allow one jack off. And I'd like to drink a nice Pinot Noir if the $ to E hasn't hit 1.50

And you? Got any plans of preparation for your new year? No, no, don't tell me. I don't need more distractions... Ok, well, email them to me instead. My naughty lola inbox has been very, very quiet since all the boys left town.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Vitamin D

Riiiiight. Why am I complaining?

I'm lucky enough not to have to get up at 6am for my job at 8am.
I'm sitting in front of my laptop at home - and could wear pjs if I wanted to.
It's not snowing.
It's warm out.
I am on vacation.
I am healthy with all my limbs and loves.
And, this was my view 5 minutes ago. (So I retract any depression and am upping my Vitamin D cod oil pills.)

Thursday, December 18, 2008

I feel funky

The Filmmaker came over last night. I was planning for a nice night at his place with whiskey and smoking in his room. Instead, he came over to mine and we had bottles of wine and smoking.

I told him, because he's the one I feel most comfortable talking truth, that I've felt funny lately. It all started when I woke up just before Thanksgiving weekend to Charlie Brown's Christmas song on Radio K.

I haven't been depressed in a while. For a long time it was rather predictable. Every three months I'd hit a low and curl up with movies and whiskey, a blanket and myself. I'd have to look back in the posts from France to see when the last time was I got blue, but I think this is what it is. I feel Charlie Brown-est.

Thanksgiving was great. The weather here is cold, but there's no snow really and it's not even that cold. The City of Lights has come out in lights to remind us all that tis the season. ... In the States I'd know it was the holidays by the snow. In Spain by the holiday religious songs pumped out through loud speakers on every major walking street. But here, I've forgotten it was holiday season. I got into the Tumblr Secret Santa and even bought holiday cards when I went out for the TSS gift purchase. School is ending tomorrow (technically today) for vacation time. I have like 4 papers all due in January so I'll work over the holidays like I did last year. I won't travel, I don't think. I just don't know where to go or why. Plus, the papers.

TV Producer will go to Israel. The Filmmaker to London. Tall Tom to the USA. The Italian to Italy. This will leave me with the Butcher or the Spaniard, both of whom I haven't seen in a while and don't know what their plans are. (Although, upon sending an email to the Butcher to let him know I was finally uploading the photos from our trip to northern France this summer, he emailed back that he'd look tomorrow as tonight he is drunk drunk drunk and will puke before bed in order to wake up better tomorrow. So not attractive at all.)

A couple of out-of-town girl friends are in town. I expect Adam to return soon - although when he left 2 weeks ago ... way before the period or the real PMS - I wasn't sure he'd be returning.

I feel weird. Even my period was weird this month. With a bit of a showing on one day. Then nothing. Then more showing the next day. Then major cramps, which is highly unusual. Then a torrent. And even during my period the past months Adam kind of stuck around and surprised me with the urge to get off despite it.

I don't want to be depressed over vacation. I don't want to feel lackluster or so tired as I have lately. I'm taking the Vitamin D's to try to keep a sunny balance in my system. But nothing is kicking it.


I blushed

As an aside, I need to clean up the links on the right. Some I don't read anymore. Some are out-dated. Some are lame or gone.


I went to the Gotan Project show on Monday night and it was fan-fucking-tastic. Took Tall Tom with me. Probably annoyed the old French lady next to me as I was dancing in my seat the whole time. You know, that toe-tapping and upper-body dance that one does while forced to keep the ass in seat. She was all like "Oui!" when they asked if we wanted more tango dancing. I was all whistling and clapping and rapping to the more dance songs. It made me miss the Beekeeper so much. When I sent him photos from the show he wrote back how wonderful and that he remembered our Gotan-sexo. Yes. To me he is glory. Me to him is sexo. It's completely expected and real.

After, Tall Tom and I went to dinner at a cozy little place and I caught a taxi home. He SMS'd me after I got home that I should go to his place for sex. Instead, we made a rendezvous for Tuesday night. Over dinner, in another very hip place at Parmentier, after the bottle of wine was almost gone, he commented on me faking orgasms.

I like Tall Tom enough. He's funny, too young for me, totally filthy rich from two years working for an evil financial consultancy (as I can tell), a great storyteller, has crazy piercing eyes, and is great in the sack. But that doesn't mean I'll tell him my deepest secrets. One being, that I really don't orgasm.

I know a few lovers from Christmas past read this blog. And they know what I mean. I cum with some and not with others.

But what I immediately thought, as I turned beet red and tried to feign falseness, is that I never orgasm. I'm not sure why I thought that because later today I pondered on it and realized that I do - but with certain people and at certain times. And that I've developed a habit of the way I fake it such that I'm not really faking it but I am. This sounds horrible.

If anyone really wanted to know, I'd certainly show them the true-cumming-of-Lola. But yes, it has nothing to do with being with another person. ... In fact, later Tall Tom commented that I have intimacy issues. Good lord. He's too young to even know what he's talking about, and if I do, it's really the last thing he should be interested in. We are part-time lovers. We are not psychoanalyst daters.

I did blush though, over wine and being called out. I had no idea what to say because he hasn't earned any brownie points for my secrets. So, I lied. Which I rarely do. Very rarely. Because the truth is always more interesting than lies - especially if it's a hard truth. And the lie was horrible and I know he knew and I know he knew I knew.

Later, he took me back to his place - his new place - on the almost-top floor of a fabulous building in the 20th over-looking a reservoir with too much space for one boy. He wants people to like him - and he's throwing a fun party in January to assure that we all do. Halloween fun party wasn't enough. He's buying an ice sculpture for this one. He plugged in the lights and showed me how they look like water but with colors. And when he ran off to look at other places for the lights, I fell asleep on the couch. And I was impenetrable after that. Granted, Adam has been replaced by period Cecilia. So, he pushed me to bed - in an infantile way - and I slept all night and longer into the day than him.

It was a strange evening and day. He likes me. And I find this odd.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

I am smart

I'm not afraid of saying I'm wrong when I'm wrong. Not afraid of bad guesses or failure. But when I'm right on something that could have been wrong, I'm happy.

So, I had extensive email exchanges with the French dom guy because I came away from our date feeling like I was being rushed into something, feeling like I didn't have full disclosure - and wasn't giving enough disclosure, feeling like something was missing. My intuition is finely tuned and strong and I trust it more than I trust facts. Certainly, I base my decisions on a combination of both, but this time there was something in the facts that made me unsettled. It wasn't that he felt like a freak killer. It wasn't that he felt like a madman. Wasn't that he felt like a poseur, because I don't believe that the case. It just felt like he ... well, wasn't "right."

For our playdate tomorrow, I was supposed to wear no underwear, wear garters and stockings, walk in without a safeword but play a "joker system" (I refuse something, we don't do it, but next time I have to do something he chooses and I *have* to do it), and he had hoped I'd be able to be waxed. He had offered cab fare there and back so I wouldn't be wetting myself on the metro. But because of the "feelings" I had, I asked that, instead of having the playdate, we have another public meeting to discuss a bit more. Submissiveness is not a toy. Sure, I might be a pragmatic, practical, over-analyzing American, but I'm not a risk-taker in bdsm. I am a treasure, a sublime sub, and I'll give and take anything once I trust the dom. (Although Sir K did confirm my statement that I'm not a pain slut, and therefore have many limitations.)

So, tonight I got an email from the French dom (and sent one similar, although shorter, back):

Finally recovered all your mails, the latest one had just, for unknown reasons, been directed to my spam box…and only this morning…..!

I've thought quite a lot about the situation; we spent two and a half hours together discussing things openly, intelligently and in quite some details.

As you admitted yourself, you have a strong tendency to "top from bottom" and then you obviously tend to be very analytical about every single issue.

You're a charming and interesting as a person and I would have loved to train you, but I am far too experienced and sure about the way I should handle things to consider one second being "topped from bottom".

Also, I think that if in over two hours, I did not manage to create some feeling of trust, than I'm really very bad at proving who I am or at least could be.

So, I don't think another two or three hours of discussion will change anything, and in fact the simple idea of that bores me to death...

Sorry to be so frank, but we'll leave it here and I wish you an enjoyable stay in Paris, full success at school and a lot of kinky fun ;-)



I thanked him for his frankness, because I prefer it over bullshit. Wished him well in finding the sub he is hoping to find and thanked him for his time.

Interestingly, at our date, I told him I had topped from the bottom with several boyfriends since I was, in essence, dating vanilla men and showing them bdsm / asking for and demonstrating what I wanted from them. The French dom obviously was not listening to me at all. I love that discussion "bores him to death" - what a moron.

This is a perfect reminder for me, and a perfect lesson for newbie submissives who are dying for domination, who are so eager once they have found bdsm and that it resonates so deeply in them that they want to do *anything* for *anyone* to satisfy the craving. Thing is, it's *our* gift to give. Not that we're "holier than thou," but that we're the ones giving up control, losing ourselves, abandoning rationalization in a scene, and, desiring to please - in any way possible - our dominants. But those doms need to earn that freedom, need to prove their trustworthiness, need to demonstrate composure, compassion, knowledge, control, and an understanding of what submissives are offering. No, this is not a "top from the bottom" idea, this is about safety, trust, compatibility, equality, understanding, open communication, and mutual respect. Once a submissive and dom have established that kind of relationship (not meaning one of love or dating or whatever), then, fine, let all things go - including safewords if it's appropriate. But before that, it's a hazard waiting to happen.

I'm much too proud of who I am and what amazingness I can offer to just give it to anyone. And the French dom wasn't willing to even respect me enough to have a coffee and explore. His loss. Poor bastard.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

The French Dom

He works in finance. He's barely younger than my father. He used to be assistant deputy to the Prime Minister. He drives a Smart car. He wanted me to eat at our date. He is mysterious and his version of slave/master is different than I know it. We'll see how the date goes.

From Tumblr:

Me: many questions

the French dom: You're smart and you're certainly deeply perverted or "pervertable" ;-)

the French dom: Stop pondering! It's a huge waste of energy at the stage you are at. You will be trained to serve not because of an "ability" but because this is what you desire, and you just have to admit it and be shameless about it.

the French dom: Story of O, the beautification of a woman totally helpless in the firm hands of a ruthless, but kind in depth, master

the French dom: I want you to serve me to perfection, to learn, know and want to please me however difficult this may be for you and to know that this is not only your duty but your pleasure

the French dom: All form of trousers are strictly forbidden, so skirt or dress. All underwear is strictly forbidden, including hiding it in your coat or handbag ;-). You will wear stockings, preferably black, but not the self standing ones, those you need a garter belt to hold them up, and this garter belt has to be as simple and sleek as possible.(you have an unlimited budget from me for this)

Me: ... always liked an unlimited budget. And just so you's all don't freak out. A woman totally helpless and serving to perfection as duty - well, you gotta brush up on your bdsm knowledge and knowing that this is actually total liberation as in Women's Lib circa '70s, except reinvented for the '00s. Just as a man CEO can go to a dominatrix for ball-crushing release, so, too, can a successful woman go to a dom for breast-crushing freedom. I do have a deep desire to learn what it's like to be completely submissive, but I'm finding it's harder to imagine than it was before. Not so much for safety sake, but control factors. I'm so in control these days and haven't had to let much go - not with the Beekeeper, not the Filmmaker, not the TV Producer (I directed the spanking, not him), not the Spaniard, not the Italian. So, is it possible for me to let go entirely and be a subject? Hmmm interesting personal progression.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

French Dom date

check the Tumblr


am I ready for something so serious?

Not like everyday 24/7 slave thing, but pretty much otherwise if you subtract the 24/7 part.

Serious old school dominant - is how he comes across. We'll see I guess when I show up on Saturday for a session.... er... training.