It has been a couple days of calmer weather. Yet I don't want to hold onto anything. In the past, even recent past, when I have held onto balanced times, there would be an instant, where everything would crumble. I guess it's a matter of being in the moment, whatever that moment is.

I wrote this yesterday…and figured I might as well include it in here.
~~~~~~~~~
25 March 03 - Tuesday
drugs, delusion and depression

It's the end of another horrid day. But they are days that have small glimmers in them.
Can I tell you that just being...in this moment of my life....is probably the most difficult thing I've ever done?

The lows get lower, blacker, more torturous and all consuming. Yet...when it goes away, then I feel I have the strength to continue.
I just had a thought. It feels like a hurricane. And the calm moments are the eye of the storm. Only to get hit again.

Anyway, I was with a few friends this eveing. One was concerned about my doctor's appointment. He knows the creative, passionate me. He's concerned because he's aware that if I go down the med path....I'm not going to have the tops and bottoms of my feelings. There's a cost to the drugs. There's a cost to peace of mind.

I know this as well. This is why I've fought so hard to do without them.
My concerned friend noticed something else. He thought it interesting that it took only a week to become nonfunctional at work, and sleepless. Two of the things my therapist mentioned would be a good reason to start on drugs.
He reminded me that it's easier for our bodies to break ourselves than heal ourselves.
Interestingly enough....that very thought had crossed my mind today.

What if I created this nonfunctionality...simply for the "out" of taking drugs?
What if I'm so close to the core of the fire...before stepping thru to the other side? And what if I'm so terrified of what I may find...that I've broken my body?

This is so totally odd.
On one hand....I'm creating. I'm drawing again. I'm decorating.
Lately, when the storm subsides...I feel incredibly strong.
Yesterday...I felt my sex drive for the first time in...at least a month, maybe more. It only lasted 10 minutes...but it was there!

On the other hand ...I'm the most fucking mess I've ever been in my life.

I do not want to deceive myself.
If I need drugs...for some chemical imbalance...so be it. Although, I cringe thinking about it.
But if it's the only thing that allows me to be more whole...then I have to look at that.

Yet....if I'm seeing this as an escape...I really don't want it.

How am I going to know if it's right for me?
How bad do I have to get?

I think I want to talk to my doctor. I want to rule out physical causes. For example...what if I'm beginning the very early stages of menopause?
What if I'm physically sick and it's affecting my emotions?
Originally I called for the appt so I could get a script for an antidepressant.
But...what if all I need is an anti-anxiety thing...taken as needed...for a little bit?

Being calmer this evening...I can think clearer.
But, I am getting more and more scared of the hard times.
Just knowing they are around the corner is worrisome.

I've been thinking lots about what has me down. I know the last two years have been rough, with each month getting more intense. I originally thought it was about circumstances. "A" happens and therefore I feel "B". But, I now believe there's a core issue, no matter what the circumstances.

It's really about being accepted for who I am. I'm not too concerned about the rest of the world. It's my intimate circle that I'm worried about. The hurt happens when I am not acknowledged by them for who I actually am, yet assumed to be something else based on stereotypes and general mainstream stuff.

I am absolutely tired of defending all my positions regarding myself. I can no longer tolerate being told I'm afraid of intimacy, or am putting up walls simply because my views are way off base from what others expect.

I wish they could see me for who I am.

Honestly, in many ways, I think they do. But the questions still come. The conclusions (albeit wrong) still get verbalized.

I'm just plain tired.

Today I had a thought. I think I need to purge Leather from my soul. I'm seen as a woman before being seen as a Leatherperson. And, it hurts.

Maybe vanilla is the way to go. I know...it's the grass is greener syndrome.

Would I be happier if I wasn't a Leatherperson? Hmmm, lemme see.
I'm an artist. Maybe that's all that matters. Maybe everything else is a farce. Maybe we are all sleepwalking and actually living in dreams and nightmares, all of us fearful to wake up, either because the good will end, or the bad will be worse, or, god forbid....boring.

Maybe we have fictionalized everything. Maybe we are all delusional.
What's really real?

Is there such a thing?

It's been a week. And...it's been one helluva week.
I moved this week. I spent a part of most days dealing with the nightmare that is QWest.

And....I'm still working on healing my heart.

My heart has hurt for a very long time. In the last few years, the hurt has intensified. Lately, I've been taking something to sleep with at night. This way I'm guaranteed a solid eight hours. Ambien is a delight. But in the morning, my eyes haven't even opened, and yet the pain sears through my chest.

This morning, instead of replaying all the incidences of hurt, I tried something new. I've been meditating for over a year now. But as the pain increased, it's been essentially impossible to meditate. I try and simply cannot focus. Today, I tried visualizing my heart. I saw it splattered on the floor with one large gaping wound, and then heart chunks laying around. This I could focus on. I then imagined healing myself.

Whenever the pain began today, I went back to seeing my heart. It helped. Kinda.
It helped more than anything else.

I just realized I never introduced myself. But it is kinda silly, at this time. This blog is still in the private mode. No one knows it's here....except my therapist (who I told yesterday). I don't know if this will ever go public. Or, I may keep it private and simply hand out the url to a chosen few. Or, I may realize this is really dumb and dump the whole thing. For some reason, I needed to do this. There's something titillating about having my thoughts self-published. I miss being an exhibitionist, and here's one way to do it, although currently, this type of exhibitionism would be compared to being naked...at home alone.

Girl fag is a name that's been given to me over and over throughout the last 10 years or so, going back to vanilla times. I've been called fag, girl fag, and just recently, hot fag. This has been all by gay men. My favorite is "fag with a cunt". I checked with a couple gay men friends before taking on this name for the site. I wanted to see how they felt about it. The responses were all positive, with one even saying "I'm honored".

I'm an odd duck. And, I like odd ducks. I look like a femme although I consider myself transgendered. I stumbled upon "bigendered", but that didn't sit well with me. It assumes there are only 2 genders and one would have both to be bigender, which I suppose would be the 3rd gender. But I believe that gender is so incredibly fluid, and we've been handed a huge lie in this society. We have been brainwashed to believe that if you are male, this is what you look like and act like. And, if you are female...here's your instruction sheet. I really don't fit with what this society thinks a woman is. And because I don't have a dick, I don't fit the the guy community. But...I have aspects of both in me. If I were butchier looking it would be more accepted. I have no desire to transition, although I've always desired to have both a cunt and a cock. I feel it would match my insides. Sometimes, when I'm feeling bleak, I do think of taking testosterone. The reason being it would fuck with people's impression of me. Being femme...I wonder what "T" would do to me physically. I know I wouldn't pass as a guy, nor do I desire to. I fantasize that it would physically place me more in the "huh, what are you?" kinda mode.....which is how I feel anyway.

I do better with people who encompass both of what society considers masculine and feminine trait and talents. Someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty and at the same time cry at the beauty found in life is a turn on for me. But I have no use for the high femme and ultra macho types. The ends of the spectrum just don't do it for me. Also, I can smell arrogance at 500 paces and have no use for it either. Major turn off.

I identify as a sensualist first. Then it's masochist, service bottom and artist. I'm queer, having come out in the early '80's. I came out as bi about 3 years ago. My identity as being left handed is higher on the list than my identity as female. Essentially it's because I don't see the female side of me as any more important than my brown eyes or hair. It's a physical thing. Whereas, I believe my lefthandedness is hardwired into my creativity, mind and soul.

My Leather is such a part of me...but it's pretty much been relegated to a fantasy place. Other than one or two, I just haven't met the intense sadists who are willing to play, or if they are...they aren't coming from the same place regarding play. Although I have to say the periodic rolling pin thrusts me right back into reality.

I hunger for community. I have an extremely loving circle that surrounds me and cares for me. I cherish them dearly. They are a big part of my heart. But, when it comes to actual Leather play, I am not really a big part of that circle. I know what home is. I've seen it, smelled it and tasted it. I can visualize it. But, the world being what it is, essentially makes it impossible. That fact has been proven to me. I need to find people who are willing to push through and take chances with me. People who aren't afraid to rock the boat. People who desire to expand horizons knowing they can still maintain their familiar surroundings as well.

This morning I responded to a personal ad from our alternative weekly paper. The crazy thing is, it's a vanilla ad. It's easier to find vanilla than it is leather in spite of the popularity and growth of the kink community. S/M has become so mainstream. Fetishwear is in, sex clubs are in, and people think they are being so very radical. I guess they are...for them. But when I see all this I have to chuckle inside. All this hoopla over WIITWD reminds me of teenagers who are rebelling and trying to be so different. Yet...they are all different together by dressing and acting the same way. I see the overall popularity of S/M as a trend...a fad. It will fade out when folks discover the latest and greatest. There are a few people who will continue to pursue it, yet I believe it will be in a more private fashion. I believe the people who are in it for the substance will remain.

In the meantime, it's so difficult to find the wheat amidst all the chaff. Where are the queer people who live their Leather, carry a sense of history regarding Leather and their gayness? On top of that...I know there must be a handful of creative, circular thinkers within this subculture. Where are the gay artists and writers? The painters? The sculptors? Are there any leatherfolk who are passionately creating? If so...are these people who believe their S/M to be not only loads of fun but also sacred, incredibly intimate play? Are these people who are aware that it's not only how one acts in the dungeon, but its important to have a strength of character that shines throughout all they are?

I see many who are creating art, yet again it's about what is fashionable. I attended an erotic art show a while back and saw hundreds of pieces of work. I was hoping, desperately hoping to find one piece that would jump out at me. I sought a work that actually spoke from the depths of one's soul, something so out there, not a piece that's illustrative of what is seen all the time. And I'm not talking about the work being specifically abstract. Again, it's about substance.

We are celebrating sex in this lifestyle...or are we? If so...then why isn't that sexual energy emanating from who we are and all we do?

I get angry when I'm not seen for the person I really am, by those in my inner circle. I get angry when I'm not trusted enough to make the best choice for my life, emotionally and physically. I get angry when I'm not seen as the brilliant, intuitive, sensitive person I am. I get angry when I am supposed to ignore energy and chemistry for public appearances.

Some people have the gift of being public people. Others have the gift of being private. And then others are somewhere inbetween. Why can't each person's desires for public or private be respected? One is not more right or wrong than another.

The choice to not be public with everyone, simply because they are also into Leather, S/M, kink or whatever it's called, does not mean that I am putting up walls. And because we may "appear" to fuck the same way does not mean we really have anything in common.

I was taught it's about energy. The exchange of energy. And that applies to all of life, not only to our fucks. Granted, there are times one must be public, in an arena that wouldn't be of their choosing, but that's mostly for basic life stuff. Who I choose to play with, have coffee with, or invite to help with volunteer tasks will damned well depend on energy.

Granted, there is submission to my Top, if I were owned by one. But I would not enter an arrangement where the Top did not or could not see my individuality. It wouldn't make for a healthy relationship.
If owned, I could see being asked to experience people and situations that I would not normally partake in. But I also would trust that there would be a greater good kind of reason for that. And that would not become the norm surrounding being public.

A couple days ago I spoke of assumptions we make. And I know I make them myself. But while attempting to keep away from certain streets that have large mudholes, I still try to keep my heart open to possibilities. If something feels right, even though it may contradict my previous experience, I need to explore it. Alternately, if I get an instant bad vibe, I need to listen to that as well.

This is going to be a fucking depressing entry. Feel free to stop reading now and do something cheerier, like vacuuming, or
this.

You have been warned.

Well, seeing you're as much of a masochist as I am...here goes.

I believe that life, in general, sucks. It's about pain and suffering more than anything else. I believe we are all afflicted in one way or another. And those of us who are walking around with a perpetual goddammed grin are in a serious state of denial.

Yes, there are moments that bring calm and smiles. But those moments are few and far between. They are specifically meant to seduce us into taking the next step. It's all deceit and subterfuge.

I saw something last night that made me sick to my stomach. It reminded me how insidious and accepted sexism is. Many times, the offenders aren't even aware they are being sexist, and yet the flames are continually being fanned.

I am all for pushing buttons and creating situations where people may have to look at a different viewpoint. But, I believe we need to keep context in mind. I know I'm not explaining myself well.

Hmmmm....the incident. There is this fabulous photographer who shoots bondage photos. He shoots beautiful, young girls tied up in Japanese style bondage. Some of his photos are going to be published in Hustler. This specific shot is of the model acting as human furniture. Personally, in play, I think being objectified is quite hot. And yes, it's totally non-pc, especially to portray a woman that way. BUT...to do it in Hustler, where there's a pervasive sense of objectification anyway, just gets my goat. The place I would portray those photos would be at a woman's event (preferable radical, lesbian feminists...evil grin)...to push their buttons.

Don't get me wrong, I am so all for porn. But it feels there is a fine line between naked lustiness and wanking off material, and the overall attitude that keeps women as mindless sex objects.

Bluntly, I believe those photos are not a good idea for the heterosexual male community. In general, I do not consider most of this population enlightened enough to be able to separate between porn and sexism. Although, I have seen people rise above this and do support their endeavors wholeheartedly.

What am I trying to say...what is my rant for this morning?

Sexism and S/M

I see more sexism in the straight and dyke leather community than I have ever seen in my vanilla life. It concerns me. And, it is so accepted that people aren't even aware they are being sexist. For them, it's part of the play.

I'm going to speak in generalities. I know there are always exceptions....which I acknowledge and get excited about. But back to the general state of things.....

....Het male dominants/female submissives. I feel they are using this to return to the '50's way of life. I see it as an excuse to return to the Stepford wife, June Cleaver way of life. I hear of more unhappy women, while the guys are doggin' around. It's not one particular side's fault....yet I feel everyone is attempting to buy into a lie.

When I was involved in the leatherdyke community it was the same thing. Simply because I look femme...I had to have doors opened for me, and lingerie was purchased for me, and I wasn't taught how to change the oil. I had my "role". It pissed me off incredibly. And honestly, it hurt more than anything else. Sexism still hurts.

It's interesting how when a someone wants to be a service bottom they seem to have the need to identify as boy, when they typically identified as girls. Listen folks, you do NOT have to be called or identified as a boy to do service. I used to frequently see the same attitude in bootblacks, but have noticed a shift. It's more about the love of bootblacking, irregardless of orientation or gender
.
I've experienced butches who were insulted when something mistook them for a bottom. Not very flattering to the bottoms, is it?
I've seen leather families where the boys did traditional boys work and the girls actually did traditional girls work. Ewww. And they were queer folks. It saddens me.

One of the greatest injustices we do to each other is not seeing an individual for who they actually are, but instead seeing them for the assumptions made based on physical appearance and societal roles. We are cruel animals. All of us. Myself included.

I've been thinkin' about a webpage for girlfag.com. It will happen. I'm writing in here simply to begin writing. It's odd. Even though this page is private, I still have a difficult time expressing myself. Something about feeling quite vulnerable. I want to write about S/M. I want to write about ideas I have in my head regarding our society. I want to write about radical sex. I want to write about boxes and the fantasy of blowing them all away. I want to write about lustiness with color and food and music and paint and whips and leather and gardens.

I want to write about betrayal and broken hearts. Not in the traditional romance sense, but in the sense of ideas and dreams, imagination and creativity, cutting edge thoughts and provocative behavior.

It'll be nice to have this place that feels good, with a name that feels good. Screw the rest of the world. I get so frustrated with folks. Frustrated with the impatience and shortsightedness and arrogance and everthing. Sigh.

girl fag is up!!!