I had deliberately taken a step back from playing after things went sideways a month ago. I had many people in my life try to encourage me to jump right into things again - get roughed up - get out there and fill the void. I kept declining - even the offers I had to scene. Why?
When my mind is in a bad place, I stop listening to my body.
I know from playing sports and running that if I'm emotionally hurt or angry or in a bad place, I will only get hurt by hurting myself. How? I stay in my head, and when my body is screaming out for me to slow down or stop, I ignore it. In the end, most of my injuries I have gotten in my life is a result of me ignoring my body and ultimately ignoring the major pulled muscle or the hurt knee or the hurt ankle or the hurt shoulder. Mind over body resulted in my body getting the last laugh.
Knowing this, I worried that I would get into a scene - ignore my body telling me to cry uncle - and let things get pushed into a bad hurt. And that last thing I wanted to do to someone is allow them to hurt me in a bad way - a way that would make them feel incredibly guilty as well. So, when offers were made, I declined.
Feeling in a better space, I sought out a scene at a recent party. A scene with a guy with a reputation that scares many. He is definitely a sadist in every sense of the word. But, I've had fun with him before & knew it wouldn't take much to get some time with him. And as I expected, he promised lots of welts and all.
I was nervous going into the scene. I don't know why. Just was. It had been a while. I wanted it to go well. I trust him, so that wasn't an issue. Just was anxious for some fun - excited and anxious. We found a place in the dungeon, I disrobed, he opened his bag, then grabbed me around the throat. The anxiety left my body as he took control, moved me by my throat to the bench, and had me assume the position.
He warmed me up with a flogger and his hand, then switched immediately to the single tail. And something happened that was unexpected.
I started giggling.
I laugh during play, but usually at myself if someone gets me to start anticipating and reacting to a strike before the strike hits my body. That involuntary reaction makes me start laughing at myself - and at the power shift that happens as a result.
But this was different. Each sting - each time the single tail found its spot on my ass and thighs, I couldn't help but giggle.
He switched implements - switched to a large paddle - "This is gonna hurt" he forewarned before he resumed his assault on my ass.
Did it hurt?
Fuck yes.
How did I react?
I swore and giggled.
This pattern continued as he went through the toys. At one point, he pulled me up by my hair to ask if I was giggling. I responded by giggling.
Processing pain for me usually involves moaning, swearing and writhing as I work through a painful swat. Giggling has never been one of the ways.
Until the other night.
Even thinking about that scene now makes me giggle.
I can't help it.
I am bruised beyond what I think I've ever been bruised before. He used, I think, 10 different implements from his bag on me - some hurt like hell - and I giggled my ass off.
And my giggled fueled his desire to hurt me in a good way.
I met each thing with an appropriate reaction of "that's gonna hurt", then swearing and giggling after he started using it on me.
The body and mind are funny things.
Sometimes, I guess the emotional release one needs from the good pain, is a large amounts of giggling coupled with the word fuck.
Now that's what I call a good hurt.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Motivational Monday
And finally, remember:
Friday, November 25, 2011
Restarts and Snarks
I rarely have my impatience about a situation end as well as it did on Wednesday. I was done with silence and all with a friend - a friend where things hit a point where I know I needed a good time out - even if I also did not want it.
It has been far from easy - for either of us - and I've hated it more and more as time has gone on. After he reached out to me and it didn't go well, I applaud his persistence in trying again. The second try was good. We met, we hugged, we talked, we listened, and we hit the big 'ole reset button.
The emotional release, for me, was huge. I could feel the stress leave my body when I got home. The shoulda, coulda, wouldas were gone. I felt we were going again in a positive direction. And that was good. I don't do patient well. I don't do unresolved well. And I hate it when things are unresolved with people who are important to me.
It's funny because his wife made a comment earlier that day: "Too much death, illness and hurt this fall. May there be light, healing and hope this winter season" It was my hope as well. That hope would replace the hurt. I'm glad it has.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Moe, what's a personal vibrator? Or do I want to know?"
Thank you trojan vibrator commercials!
"I'll tell you but it has to do with sex."
"Uhm....I'll pass."
Later, when it came onto the TV again, she made some snarky comment about it and directed it at me.
Her penance - I started telling her what it was.
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!!!" was what she yelled as she went running from the room.
Tweens are fun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hope people avoided black friday. I'm a fan of supporting the non-big box stores. Small shops need our help more than the large stores. Go give them your money.
It has been far from easy - for either of us - and I've hated it more and more as time has gone on. After he reached out to me and it didn't go well, I applaud his persistence in trying again. The second try was good. We met, we hugged, we talked, we listened, and we hit the big 'ole reset button.
The emotional release, for me, was huge. I could feel the stress leave my body when I got home. The shoulda, coulda, wouldas were gone. I felt we were going again in a positive direction. And that was good. I don't do patient well. I don't do unresolved well. And I hate it when things are unresolved with people who are important to me.
It's funny because his wife made a comment earlier that day: "Too much death, illness and hurt this fall. May there be light, healing and hope this winter season" It was my hope as well. That hope would replace the hurt. I'm glad it has.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Moe, what's a personal vibrator? Or do I want to know?"
Thank you trojan vibrator commercials!
"I'll tell you but it has to do with sex."
"Uhm....I'll pass."
Later, when it came onto the TV again, she made some snarky comment about it and directed it at me.
Her penance - I started telling her what it was.
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!!!" was what she yelled as she went running from the room.
Tweens are fun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hope people avoided black friday. I'm a fan of supporting the non-big box stores. Small shops need our help more than the large stores. Go give them your money.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Coffee and Wanderings
As I drink my coffee this morning, I figure I'd just do a brain dump because nothing else is percolating to the top as a single post.
I have a couple of friends who have been great lately. Saying and being there just when it seems I need them. And both saying and reacting in a way that gets my attention - makes me listen and feel good versus making me continue to second guess myself. And neither have been blowing smoke up my ass either. It's the perfect balance. During times when I've felt incredibly lonely, it's nice to have a small voice pop up and say the words I need to hear even if they are just in passing.
Work has been weird. Not weird bad or weird good - just weird. The stress is taking its toll on people. And as project managers, there really is only so much we can do to get our pieces done. In my group, there are some of us who know this so don't kill ourselves over it. And there are some who believe working 20 hour days is going to some how magically get their teams to get their shit done or get leadership to do what they need to do. There is what you can control and what you cannot. And at the end of the day, you gotta know when to walk away. I'm sure there are some who feel I'm a little too good about that, but hey, I'm 92% complete with 2 weeks to go. I'll be at 100% on Monday. Shrug - working 12hr days isn't going to improve it in any meaningful way.
I do almost feel bad for my FIL. Each time they have the girls over, he wigs out about something. And I'm sure - knowing my kids - they roll their eyes at him or stand up to him by saying he's being stupid. He is constantly correcting their grammer in a way that draws way too much attention to it - and detracts from what they are saying. We correct it too, but in a more subtle way. They both are onto his game and make fun of him. In fact, each time he corrects certain things - they now change the sentence to exclude his issue so they can tell the story. Yeah, he's in for it as they get older.
What's ironic is that, for the first time, this is pissing off G. As he said the other night, "it's one thing he raised me to be neurotic, but I will not let him do that to our kids."
Wow. This is bigger than some people may realize.
A point to ponder:
When something should have an easy answer that could be quickly given, the fact there is silence instead is, of and in itself, an answer. And not necessarily the one that was meant to be given.
Mom is doing okay. She is improving in some parts, but having problems in others. Her allergies have been acting up which causes her to not eat as it steals her appetite. Her doc is upset because this is not helping her stomach issues. So, they have her on a bunch of allergy meds to see if they can get it all sorted out for continued recovery.
Indigo is making a totem pole for a school project. I am the lion on the totem. I'm not sure how I should take it. Is it because I roar loud? Because I'm tough like a lion? Yes, I mention the roar first because it seems to be attention getting with her. She put a lot of thought into the animals she assigned to people. Should be interesting to see how it progresses.
Monsoon season is upon us here in the PacificNW. And my raincoat has had it. The membrane is worn out, so no amount of spray or waterproofing wash is going to fix it. Use an umbrella, you may suggest. Not with the gusty winds we have. So, a raincoat will be what I seek this weekend. Being wet when I take it off may be entertaining for some, but cold for me.
And on that note, I'm off to work. The train should be empty - thank goodness. Let's hope work is quiet enough I can sneak out early.
Happy Wednesday!
I have a couple of friends who have been great lately. Saying and being there just when it seems I need them. And both saying and reacting in a way that gets my attention - makes me listen and feel good versus making me continue to second guess myself. And neither have been blowing smoke up my ass either. It's the perfect balance. During times when I've felt incredibly lonely, it's nice to have a small voice pop up and say the words I need to hear even if they are just in passing.
Work has been weird. Not weird bad or weird good - just weird. The stress is taking its toll on people. And as project managers, there really is only so much we can do to get our pieces done. In my group, there are some of us who know this so don't kill ourselves over it. And there are some who believe working 20 hour days is going to some how magically get their teams to get their shit done or get leadership to do what they need to do. There is what you can control and what you cannot. And at the end of the day, you gotta know when to walk away. I'm sure there are some who feel I'm a little too good about that, but hey, I'm 92% complete with 2 weeks to go. I'll be at 100% on Monday. Shrug - working 12hr days isn't going to improve it in any meaningful way.
I do almost feel bad for my FIL. Each time they have the girls over, he wigs out about something. And I'm sure - knowing my kids - they roll their eyes at him or stand up to him by saying he's being stupid. He is constantly correcting their grammer in a way that draws way too much attention to it - and detracts from what they are saying. We correct it too, but in a more subtle way. They both are onto his game and make fun of him. In fact, each time he corrects certain things - they now change the sentence to exclude his issue so they can tell the story. Yeah, he's in for it as they get older.
What's ironic is that, for the first time, this is pissing off G. As he said the other night, "it's one thing he raised me to be neurotic, but I will not let him do that to our kids."
Wow. This is bigger than some people may realize.
A point to ponder:
When something should have an easy answer that could be quickly given, the fact there is silence instead is, of and in itself, an answer. And not necessarily the one that was meant to be given.
Mom is doing okay. She is improving in some parts, but having problems in others. Her allergies have been acting up which causes her to not eat as it steals her appetite. Her doc is upset because this is not helping her stomach issues. So, they have her on a bunch of allergy meds to see if they can get it all sorted out for continued recovery.
Indigo is making a totem pole for a school project. I am the lion on the totem. I'm not sure how I should take it. Is it because I roar loud? Because I'm tough like a lion? Yes, I mention the roar first because it seems to be attention getting with her. She put a lot of thought into the animals she assigned to people. Should be interesting to see how it progresses.
Monsoon season is upon us here in the PacificNW. And my raincoat has had it. The membrane is worn out, so no amount of spray or waterproofing wash is going to fix it. Use an umbrella, you may suggest. Not with the gusty winds we have. So, a raincoat will be what I seek this weekend. Being wet when I take it off may be entertaining for some, but cold for me.
And on that note, I'm off to work. The train should be empty - thank goodness. Let's hope work is quiet enough I can sneak out early.
Happy Wednesday!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Self-less versus Self-ish
I was listening to my friend vent - again - about her frustrations with a recurring issue which was rearing its ugly head. I wish I could say that it was an unfamiliar complaint or that it was unique to their situation, but sadly it was something I had noticed in some other open relationships.
And it got me wondering - why does it rarely happen with my own open relationship?
Everyone who has had this issue continually speculates it is simply common to all. They blame it on "new relationship energy" or NRE. Or they try to believe it is an element of their own open relationship that is at fault - unique to them.
However, I hear it a lot.
One spouse feels they are continually sacrificing their time with their own spouse, so that their spouse can be with a play partner. This feeling goes from a feeling of sacrifice to a niggling worry that maybe they aren't as desired. They start worrying something is wrong. They get frustrated that needs are not being met. Communication starts getting harder. And there is a lot of hurt feelings and frustration on both sides.
In the most recent conversation with a friend, there was something that was said that made me realize the issue. It all come down to the suffix to the same word - self. One spouse is SELF-LESS while the other is SELF-ISH. And the constant roles with who plays which part creates this frustration.
In my friend's case, she is selflessly supporting her spouses desire for experiencing new things - new relationship, new types of play, etc. She keeps the calendar relatively flexible so that he can have dates and such. And he is appreciative. Until.....she needs something from him - and his desire for an experience makes him blind to her need.
When she says "I need cuddle time with you tonight - just you and me at home". He doesn't always understand it is a rarely asked for need. She is being self-ish in not wanting to share him at that moment. She needs his time. The problem is he doesn't always shift to self-less mode and give her what she needs. Instead, he wants to resume the "self-ish" mode and keep his plans the same. His desire overshadows her need, and they both ends up with hurt feelings and bad communications.
In other people, I've seen it where both believe they are self-less but in reality, they are both having issues because they are being self-ish. What they want even from what should be self-less acts negates what should be self-less and makes it self-ish.
Let me give my own example of how it usually works with G and me. We will look at a simple - non-open example.
There are certain times of the year where he is stressed by work. Beginning of the year, end of the year, and during grades. During those times, I know he is unable to meet my needs emotionally because work deadlines are what they are. Instead of demanding his time or trying to make him even more stressed, I try to take care of him. I will bring him lunch unexpectedly. Or I will do something in his class that needs to get done that he knows will not happen due to time and priority.
And when I do these things for him, I don't do it for the acknowledgement. I don't do it because I will be "the hero". Those are doing it for self-ish reasons - doing it for what I can get out of it versus giving him a gift from the heart. My joy or satisfaction comes from that moment where I can see his face relax because it is one less stress. The thank you is nice, but the visible response to the gift is the reward.
Put another way, it would be like giving someone a gift and being more rewarded by the thank you note than the genuine joy you see when they open it. Do you give the gift for the thank you note? Or do you give it for that joy you know it gives them in that moment? Do you give it to be "their favorite person ever" because you gave them what they wanted? Or do you give it because you know in your heart it is what they want and you want them to have it regardless of what you get out of it?
It works the same way in an open relationship.
When G wants to schedule a date with his girlfriend, I don't look at it as he owes me. I don't look at it was what can I get out of it. I don't dwell on the sacrifice. I give it because I can give it and because I enjoy watching him get giddy. I enjoy watching his energy. I don't do it because it is expected. I don't do it because I want him to say "you are the greatest wife ever". I do it because I want to give him that gift - because of the look on his face.
When I find I am slipping - when I'm wanting the "greatest wife ever" accolades, I have to ask myself "what do I really need right now?" Do I really need to hear that? Or do I have needs not being met? Usually it is the latter. Then I have to ask - am I articulating it and he is simply choosing his needs over my own? Or am I not being clear in what I need?
Each and every slip-up in our relationship has been due to this issue. I can count these events on one hand - but each time, we have been left with a lasting lesson where we have to do the following:
I have been trying to recharge and recover after many stresses that have left me in need of recovery. He has been supportive of it - but he had a moment where he wanted acknowledgement by me that he was "doing good". While he could visibly see how his support was having a positive response, he was frustrated. He was feeling his needs were not being meant. And instead of focusing on that, he focused on how he was feeling instead of the real "why he was feeling that way". He was focused on his self-ish at a time when I was being more self-ish than self-less. And two self-ish people results in a volatile situation.
We both recognized the issue pretty quickly. I gave him the kudos he needed - but I also asked him to be frustrated at the situation rather than me. This request made him realize his frustration was misdirected, so he readjusted accordingly. In the end, we were both in a much better place because we readjusted how we were reacting.
And this concept is what I eventually explained to my friend when she finally wondered aloud what was going wrong. I gave her this advice. I suspect I will be having this talk with her husband soon.
I just don’t want to see them go sideways in a way where it could put their relationship at jeopardy. I have seen it happen with other couples. Where roles get defined in a such a way where fluidity between selfish and self-less is lost. Where one ends up being the full-time giver and the other because the full-time taker. This out of balance in the relationship ends up putting the relationship at risk - and in some cases, causes the end of it.
I can only hope that my two sets of friends figure it out. More joy can be gotten from an open relationship if that happens. And the risk of relationship implosion is reduced.
Here’s the hoping.
And it got me wondering - why does it rarely happen with my own open relationship?
Everyone who has had this issue continually speculates it is simply common to all. They blame it on "new relationship energy" or NRE. Or they try to believe it is an element of their own open relationship that is at fault - unique to them.
However, I hear it a lot.
One spouse feels they are continually sacrificing their time with their own spouse, so that their spouse can be with a play partner. This feeling goes from a feeling of sacrifice to a niggling worry that maybe they aren't as desired. They start worrying something is wrong. They get frustrated that needs are not being met. Communication starts getting harder. And there is a lot of hurt feelings and frustration on both sides.
In the most recent conversation with a friend, there was something that was said that made me realize the issue. It all come down to the suffix to the same word - self. One spouse is SELF-LESS while the other is SELF-ISH. And the constant roles with who plays which part creates this frustration.
In my friend's case, she is selflessly supporting her spouses desire for experiencing new things - new relationship, new types of play, etc. She keeps the calendar relatively flexible so that he can have dates and such. And he is appreciative. Until.....she needs something from him - and his desire for an experience makes him blind to her need.
When she says "I need cuddle time with you tonight - just you and me at home". He doesn't always understand it is a rarely asked for need. She is being self-ish in not wanting to share him at that moment. She needs his time. The problem is he doesn't always shift to self-less mode and give her what she needs. Instead, he wants to resume the "self-ish" mode and keep his plans the same. His desire overshadows her need, and they both ends up with hurt feelings and bad communications.
In other people, I've seen it where both believe they are self-less but in reality, they are both having issues because they are being self-ish. What they want even from what should be self-less acts negates what should be self-less and makes it self-ish.
Let me give my own example of how it usually works with G and me. We will look at a simple - non-open example.
There are certain times of the year where he is stressed by work. Beginning of the year, end of the year, and during grades. During those times, I know he is unable to meet my needs emotionally because work deadlines are what they are. Instead of demanding his time or trying to make him even more stressed, I try to take care of him. I will bring him lunch unexpectedly. Or I will do something in his class that needs to get done that he knows will not happen due to time and priority.
And when I do these things for him, I don't do it for the acknowledgement. I don't do it because I will be "the hero". Those are doing it for self-ish reasons - doing it for what I can get out of it versus giving him a gift from the heart. My joy or satisfaction comes from that moment where I can see his face relax because it is one less stress. The thank you is nice, but the visible response to the gift is the reward.
Put another way, it would be like giving someone a gift and being more rewarded by the thank you note than the genuine joy you see when they open it. Do you give the gift for the thank you note? Or do you give it for that joy you know it gives them in that moment? Do you give it to be "their favorite person ever" because you gave them what they wanted? Or do you give it because you know in your heart it is what they want and you want them to have it regardless of what you get out of it?
It works the same way in an open relationship.
When G wants to schedule a date with his girlfriend, I don't look at it as he owes me. I don't look at it was what can I get out of it. I don't dwell on the sacrifice. I give it because I can give it and because I enjoy watching him get giddy. I enjoy watching his energy. I don't do it because it is expected. I don't do it because I want him to say "you are the greatest wife ever". I do it because I want to give him that gift - because of the look on his face.
When I find I am slipping - when I'm wanting the "greatest wife ever" accolades, I have to ask myself "what do I really need right now?" Do I really need to hear that? Or do I have needs not being met? Usually it is the latter. Then I have to ask - am I articulating it and he is simply choosing his needs over my own? Or am I not being clear in what I need?
Each and every slip-up in our relationship has been due to this issue. I can count these events on one hand - but each time, we have been left with a lasting lesson where we have to do the following:
- Make sure you are not stuck in self-ish mode.
- Make sure you are communicating your needs clearly.
- Make sure you are anticipating the needs of your spouse & acting accordingly.
I have been trying to recharge and recover after many stresses that have left me in need of recovery. He has been supportive of it - but he had a moment where he wanted acknowledgement by me that he was "doing good". While he could visibly see how his support was having a positive response, he was frustrated. He was feeling his needs were not being meant. And instead of focusing on that, he focused on how he was feeling instead of the real "why he was feeling that way". He was focused on his self-ish at a time when I was being more self-ish than self-less. And two self-ish people results in a volatile situation.
We both recognized the issue pretty quickly. I gave him the kudos he needed - but I also asked him to be frustrated at the situation rather than me. This request made him realize his frustration was misdirected, so he readjusted accordingly. In the end, we were both in a much better place because we readjusted how we were reacting.
And this concept is what I eventually explained to my friend when she finally wondered aloud what was going wrong. I gave her this advice. I suspect I will be having this talk with her husband soon.
I just don’t want to see them go sideways in a way where it could put their relationship at jeopardy. I have seen it happen with other couples. Where roles get defined in a such a way where fluidity between selfish and self-less is lost. Where one ends up being the full-time giver and the other because the full-time taker. This out of balance in the relationship ends up putting the relationship at risk - and in some cases, causes the end of it.
I can only hope that my two sets of friends figure it out. More joy can be gotten from an open relationship if that happens. And the risk of relationship implosion is reduced.
Here’s the hoping.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Motivational Monday
When you are reading parenting books, one of the major themes when handing issues that arise with the kids is making sure you go after the mistake, the problem, and not the kid. You are not bad. You did something bad. The action or words were bad - not the person. For me, I remind myself that I surround myself with people who have good cores. At the core of who they are, they are great people. Their actions - their mistakes - are not who they are. Those things are their baggage - their issues to overcome. Make sure you give yourself that credit. And give it to those around you too.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Dream Analysis
I was going shopping with a friend. At least, she felt like a friend. She was not a person in my own life that I know - but she was nice and sweet and caring and all of those things that friends are.
I needed a new pair of shoes and a black dress. I told her I was looking for heels - a particular height with a particular heel - but something that would look good with the dress. I was even considering a pair of shoes that were not necessarily black. Why not go for some color was my thought.
We walked through the huge store which was our destination - talking and looking at the dresses and shoes. I wanted to walk through and look first - see what caught my attention - then decide what to try on. We did just that - walked, talked, laughed at some of the things we found, made notes of other things, etc.
When we got to a particular point, she started choosing my shoes for me. Not suggesting, per say, but actually telling me what to get. And her choices were not meeting my specifications.
"But I wanted heels," I would point out.
"These shoes are trendy and sexy and perfect. You don't want heels," was her reply.
While what she was choosing was good for particular situations and were neat and trendy and all of that, they were not what I was looking for. They did not meet my needs in this particular situation. But she would not hear of it.
Trying not to be too pushy, I suggested we look at a few different dresses that caught my eye.
As we walked through the store again, she sort of did her own thing leaving me to shop solo. It was odd, but after the shoe situation, I was fine with it. As I went back, I could not find what I was looking for. Nothing felt right - nothing looked right - nothing quite fit the way I wanted them to. And I was searching for something - I wanted something that may work. I was not keen on keeping this search going figuring it was better to have something than nothing.
But nothing was all I kept ending up with. I had no dress. I had no shoes. My friend was MIA which was both good and bad. (What's the use of having a friend who will not listen and keeps pushing what they want onto you instead of helping?) And I was frustrated.
This the dream I had last night.
Do I understand it? Now I do. It's funny how when you write it out, think about recent events in life, you realize that you do truly understand what your mind is trying to sort out.
In my case, I have some people who care about me who want to see me handle things their way instead of my own. While they conceptually know what I want, they don't necessarily believe they would want the same thing in my situation. As a result, there are times where I feel they are trying to get me to do it or see it their way instead. I am being forced into a pair of shoes I do not want - they don't fit - they aren't what I need, etc.
While their hearts are in the right place, I wish they would see my needs instead of projecting their own onto me.
Makes me both love and hate having times when I don't have to deal with them and theirs because either way it is incredibly lonely.
I needed a new pair of shoes and a black dress. I told her I was looking for heels - a particular height with a particular heel - but something that would look good with the dress. I was even considering a pair of shoes that were not necessarily black. Why not go for some color was my thought.
We walked through the huge store which was our destination - talking and looking at the dresses and shoes. I wanted to walk through and look first - see what caught my attention - then decide what to try on. We did just that - walked, talked, laughed at some of the things we found, made notes of other things, etc.
When we got to a particular point, she started choosing my shoes for me. Not suggesting, per say, but actually telling me what to get. And her choices were not meeting my specifications.
"But I wanted heels," I would point out.
"These shoes are trendy and sexy and perfect. You don't want heels," was her reply.
While what she was choosing was good for particular situations and were neat and trendy and all of that, they were not what I was looking for. They did not meet my needs in this particular situation. But she would not hear of it.
Trying not to be too pushy, I suggested we look at a few different dresses that caught my eye.
As we walked through the store again, she sort of did her own thing leaving me to shop solo. It was odd, but after the shoe situation, I was fine with it. As I went back, I could not find what I was looking for. Nothing felt right - nothing looked right - nothing quite fit the way I wanted them to. And I was searching for something - I wanted something that may work. I was not keen on keeping this search going figuring it was better to have something than nothing.
But nothing was all I kept ending up with. I had no dress. I had no shoes. My friend was MIA which was both good and bad. (What's the use of having a friend who will not listen and keeps pushing what they want onto you instead of helping?) And I was frustrated.
This the dream I had last night.
Do I understand it? Now I do. It's funny how when you write it out, think about recent events in life, you realize that you do truly understand what your mind is trying to sort out.
In my case, I have some people who care about me who want to see me handle things their way instead of my own. While they conceptually know what I want, they don't necessarily believe they would want the same thing in my situation. As a result, there are times where I feel they are trying to get me to do it or see it their way instead. I am being forced into a pair of shoes I do not want - they don't fit - they aren't what I need, etc.
While their hearts are in the right place, I wish they would see my needs instead of projecting their own onto me.
Makes me both love and hate having times when I don't have to deal with them and theirs because either way it is incredibly lonely.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
HNT - Adventure
Insomniac's Mind Dump
I love the fucker.
I don't know how many times I have clearly said that to those I care about. And those who care about me. When they say or do things where there heart is in the right place but whose actions I cannot control, I remind them he is not hated by me - quite the opposite really.
Despite it all, I hurts because of that simple fact - I love him. And it hurts because I do not like how things went or how I thought they had to go to get to a place where we hopefully can be happy. I fret every day about how it played out wondering if I should have done something different. Wondering if the outcome would have been different. Wondering if the feelings would be different.
Am I happy? No. I am trying. I am wanting it. But happy seems to be a stop on my emotional roller coaster but not a constant state. I feel there is an empty spot - one that is not getting filled. And when I have those moments where I think he would find it as funny as me, that empty space feels vast when I realize he isn't there.
Do I want him to get it? Understand what I'm feeling? Yes. Do I want him to learn from this? Hell yes. I want him to live in the moment - enjoy what he has instead of constantly striving for this mythical better. I want him to look at people as they are, not what others have done to him in the past.
Am I going to sabotage his life? Nope. It is not who I am. It is not how I live my life. Karma is a bitch if you are - and I learned that lesson long ago - so I refuse to go there again. I want him to find peace and happiness and drama-free giggles. It is all I have ever wanted. Plus, I love his family. Why would I ever put that at risk? Doing something to him is disrespectful to them.
I want to get to a point where we are talking again. I really do. I want to get to a point where I can login, see his name wherever I go, and not feel my heart ache like it does now. I want to get to a place where we can see each other again.
Until then, I have to stay away from places I would normally frequent as I am not ready yet. The ache hasn't dulled enough.
I don't know how many times I have clearly said that to those I care about. And those who care about me. When they say or do things where there heart is in the right place but whose actions I cannot control, I remind them he is not hated by me - quite the opposite really.
Despite it all, I hurts because of that simple fact - I love him. And it hurts because I do not like how things went or how I thought they had to go to get to a place where we hopefully can be happy. I fret every day about how it played out wondering if I should have done something different. Wondering if the outcome would have been different. Wondering if the feelings would be different.
Am I happy? No. I am trying. I am wanting it. But happy seems to be a stop on my emotional roller coaster but not a constant state. I feel there is an empty spot - one that is not getting filled. And when I have those moments where I think he would find it as funny as me, that empty space feels vast when I realize he isn't there.
Do I want him to get it? Understand what I'm feeling? Yes. Do I want him to learn from this? Hell yes. I want him to live in the moment - enjoy what he has instead of constantly striving for this mythical better. I want him to look at people as they are, not what others have done to him in the past.
Am I going to sabotage his life? Nope. It is not who I am. It is not how I live my life. Karma is a bitch if you are - and I learned that lesson long ago - so I refuse to go there again. I want him to find peace and happiness and drama-free giggles. It is all I have ever wanted. Plus, I love his family. Why would I ever put that at risk? Doing something to him is disrespectful to them.
I want to get to a point where we are talking again. I really do. I want to get to a point where I can login, see his name wherever I go, and not feel my heart ache like it does now. I want to get to a place where we can see each other again.
Until then, I have to stay away from places I would normally frequent as I am not ready yet. The ache hasn't dulled enough.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Random Thoughts
* I cannot sleep if someone is snoring. I used to be forced to share a room on softball trips with someone who could shake the entire hotel with her snoring. Why? Because she was annoying and I tolerated her. I would throw things at her as she slept.
* I eat sushi with a shitload of pickled ginger. And wasabi.
* I am not a fan of crab yet I would force myself to eat it when grandpa would get it when in season. Still am not a fan.
* Seeing my niece wear the coat my kids both wore made me acutely aware of much they have grown. I don't think they were that small.
* When buying Indigo her new bike, G was concerned she could outgrow it. I pointed out if she did, I would have a new bike. How sad is that?
* Funny how I'm realizing how high strung some of the people are on my PM team. They claim it's stress; I think they are just normally this way.
* My insomnia is back. My brain hates me. This morning it started with a list of cutover task for us to start testing in a few weeks. Then it rehashed life.
* My goal today is to get all my project plan tasks to turn green. If I do, I won't show up in the daily report. It's the little things sometimes.
* My in-laws and their weird approaches to handling the kids are making my kids more snarky. I'm waiting for the day with DJ looks at my FIL and calls him out on his nitpickiness. I think the day is rapidly approaching. I hope I'm there to witness it for a few reasons.
* I'm tired.
I leave you with the funny cartoon I drew the other night as the girls and I were at the VW club with G. We were all in a weird mood....
* I eat sushi with a shitload of pickled ginger. And wasabi.
* I am not a fan of crab yet I would force myself to eat it when grandpa would get it when in season. Still am not a fan.
* Seeing my niece wear the coat my kids both wore made me acutely aware of much they have grown. I don't think they were that small.
* When buying Indigo her new bike, G was concerned she could outgrow it. I pointed out if she did, I would have a new bike. How sad is that?
* Funny how I'm realizing how high strung some of the people are on my PM team. They claim it's stress; I think they are just normally this way.
* My insomnia is back. My brain hates me. This morning it started with a list of cutover task for us to start testing in a few weeks. Then it rehashed life.
* My goal today is to get all my project plan tasks to turn green. If I do, I won't show up in the daily report. It's the little things sometimes.
* My in-laws and their weird approaches to handling the kids are making my kids more snarky. I'm waiting for the day with DJ looks at my FIL and calls him out on his nitpickiness. I think the day is rapidly approaching. I hope I'm there to witness it for a few reasons.
* I'm tired.
I leave you with the funny cartoon I drew the other night as the girls and I were at the VW club with G. We were all in a weird mood....
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Happy Birthday Indigo!
She is nine today.
Holy crap, I cannot believe she is nine.
Seems just yesterday that she was a four year old riding in the backseat on the way to preschool, lecturing me about driving too fast and getting pulled over by a police man....again.
Or that would talk my ear off - demanding to hear that Pink song one more time. Or twenty more times.
I can literally call her my "pain in the ass" kid as while pregnant with her, she chose to sit in such a way that my sciatic nerve gave me shooting pains in my hip for about three months.
She was the kid that my father-in-law decided was not talking enough at age 2 and demanded she be tested for developmental delays. Now she won't stop talking if her life depended on it. The quiet-game is a favorite simply to get her to stop talking for at least 5 minutes in the car.
And I'd like to thank whoever taught her to "use her words" because when she is pissed, she uses them until she usually is sent from the room.
She is my daredevil. Hopping down the front steps on her pogo stick. Riding her bike without hands. Doing her best monkey impressions on the monkey bars in the backyard. She has more scrapes and bruises than DJ ever had. And it is awesome.
She has a wicked sense of humor. She is a smart ass.....just like her mother.
And she is incredibly independent. Always has been.
She loves making pancakes. Yes, I let her near the stove which is gas. In fact, I think I trust her near it more than I do DJ. She is our master laundry washer. Why? She wanted to know how it worked, so I showed her, and she started doing it herself.
And her questions about driving are someday going to get us in trouble, I'm sure. The kid knows the difference between a manual and automatic. She asks lots of questions about ever part of driving. She has a curiosity she is not afraid to satisfy. Hell, at the aquarium a month ago, when they asked if anyone had a question, she said "I do" and ran to the person on the other side of the octopus tank to ask it. No fear.
I love that kid. I love her because she is her own person. Her own creative, athletic, smart person.
And that is awesome.
(Even if I wish duct taping a kid's mouth were not considered abuse sometimes.)
Eight was a great year for her, I know nine will be even better!
Holy crap, I cannot believe she is nine.
Seems just yesterday that she was a four year old riding in the backseat on the way to preschool, lecturing me about driving too fast and getting pulled over by a police man....again.
Or that would talk my ear off - demanding to hear that Pink song one more time. Or twenty more times.
I can literally call her my "pain in the ass" kid as while pregnant with her, she chose to sit in such a way that my sciatic nerve gave me shooting pains in my hip for about three months.
She was the kid that my father-in-law decided was not talking enough at age 2 and demanded she be tested for developmental delays. Now she won't stop talking if her life depended on it. The quiet-game is a favorite simply to get her to stop talking for at least 5 minutes in the car.
And I'd like to thank whoever taught her to "use her words" because when she is pissed, she uses them until she usually is sent from the room.
She is my daredevil. Hopping down the front steps on her pogo stick. Riding her bike without hands. Doing her best monkey impressions on the monkey bars in the backyard. She has more scrapes and bruises than DJ ever had. And it is awesome.
She has a wicked sense of humor. She is a smart ass.....just like her mother.
And she is incredibly independent. Always has been.
She loves making pancakes. Yes, I let her near the stove which is gas. In fact, I think I trust her near it more than I do DJ. She is our master laundry washer. Why? She wanted to know how it worked, so I showed her, and she started doing it herself.
And her questions about driving are someday going to get us in trouble, I'm sure. The kid knows the difference between a manual and automatic. She asks lots of questions about ever part of driving. She has a curiosity she is not afraid to satisfy. Hell, at the aquarium a month ago, when they asked if anyone had a question, she said "I do" and ran to the person on the other side of the octopus tank to ask it. No fear.
I love that kid. I love her because she is her own person. Her own creative, athletic, smart person.
And that is awesome.
(Even if I wish duct taping a kid's mouth were not considered abuse sometimes.)
Eight was a great year for her, I know nine will be even better!
Monday, November 14, 2011
Motivational Monday
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Visiting Mom
After feeling like shit on Friday, I drove down to see my mom and spend Friday night and Saturday with her. The drive is a whole other fun story that almost involved me getting to witness and hopefully avoid becoming part of a head-on crash between two other cars. (That fucker was a lucky bastard is all I will say.) But I made it down to see her just in time for dinner.
My dad met me at the car, gave me a hug, and said "you have no idea how happy this makes your mother that you are here." Going inside, I can see why. She looked like hell. She didn't get up from the chair - you could see she was exhausted and uncomfortable. I went over and gave her a huge hug and told her to put on some weight. "I only lost 30 lbs" was her response. My dad's response was "speaking of which, you are now eating supper."
She barely ate dinner. And told my dad if he made her drink any more Gatorade she was going to get sick. My dad fretted around her. Filling water glasses with crushed ice and water not from the fridge but from the tap. Making her eat a banana later. Making her go to bed when it was clear she needed to go.
And as we talked, I assessed what needed to be done. Get mom to eat more. Clean up after my dad. Keep mom entertained.
I was a bit worried this morning (Saturday) when she got up. She was feeling nauseous. She was not eating or drinking. If she vomited once, she explained, she had to go back to the hospital as it could set off the whole dehydration thing again. Some anti-nausea medication and some food helped her feel better. I felt like a pusher. I knew food would help. So I kept pushing her until she finally ate.
We ran a couple errands after breakfast and came back for lunch. She had been talking about chicken salad sandwiches the night before, so I offered to make one for her. Dad had gotten some roasted chickens from a deli counter the night before, so there was plenty of chicken for things.
I should mention that my mom's greatest challenge right now is her diet. She is not allowed to eat any dairy because of her medication, but because of her diverticulitis, she is unable to have a whole list of things that includes nothing with too much fiber - no beef or pork - no apples, peas, beans, whole wheat, anything with seeds, etc.
Chicken salad was doable however. So I made a big batch of it - and gave her a sandwich of it. She inhaled it.
We watched the last three Harry Potter movies. And as she caught up on the first two, I did all of the dishes - and cleaned the kitchen which was a HUGE mess. I cleaned off the dining room table which has been my dad's dumping ground for everything. I did all of their laundry including folding it. And I waited on her - making her eat snacks and drink lots of water. Once the house was pulled together, my mom's stress level was much lower. All of it was driving her nuts. I could understand why. While I am not a neat freak, the kitchen was out of control as was the dining room.
We watched movies together. We talked. And I took care of her.
Dad came home and immediately commented that my mom was looking better. Having the food helped. All she has been eating is baked potatoes with no butter on it - and a bit of chicken here or there. It was all she felt was safe. Getting some veggies in her that were on the "accepted list" as well as some protein was good.
Dinner was interesting. I made pasta and tried to sort of how to make a sauce that wasn't just olive oil and garlic. Pesto was out because it has cheese and nuts. Tomato based anything was out because of the seeds and she was iffy about it. So, I punted. I sautéed some garlic, onions, carrots and orange peppers in olive oil. Added the chicken and some chicken stock. Then once heated, sprinkled some flour on top to thicken it up a bit. Then added fresh basil. Score. Worked well. A creamy sauce without dairy. My mom devoured it with some crusty bread.
"You should ask Emmy for some dinner ideas before she leaves" was what my mom told my dad. My dad thanked her for saying his food sucks in a polite way. I told them there was leftovers.
My dad while we were alone thanked me for taking care of everything. Hey, it needed to get done was my feeling. Plus, she's mom. She never gets sick like this. We all should be taking care of her.
And this is also what I'll be informing my brothers too. Because they need to get their ass over here and help out a bit. Keep her company but help her. She can't do anything but sit around. Dad is working full time. Give the woman a hand.
May have to get out the verbal 2x4 for this conversation.
As for Dad, he is still freaked out. Her mortality was a bit too real for him earlier this week when she passed out in his arms. "I thought I lost her - right there" he has said to me several times. I think that is the other reason he was happy I was here - she would not be alone. He is afraid for her to be alone given what happend with her passing out three times.
Oh, and why did she have that happen? Why was there two bouts of dehydration in less than 48hrs of each other? The ER docs at the first hospital released her too fast. She wasn't fully hydrated and her electrolytes weren't right yet. As a result, she crashed again. The second hospital admitted her and it took them almost 16hrs to get her stable again. The first hospital had her in the ER for only half that time.
They may have to do surgery yet given the complications she has had. If this happens again, the complications and risks are greater while doing the surgery would fix it. We find out next week if that is what they decide.
I leave to go home Sunday morning. I wish I had more time to be with her, but I'm glad I was able to give her what time I had. I can only hope this upswing continues.
My dad met me at the car, gave me a hug, and said "you have no idea how happy this makes your mother that you are here." Going inside, I can see why. She looked like hell. She didn't get up from the chair - you could see she was exhausted and uncomfortable. I went over and gave her a huge hug and told her to put on some weight. "I only lost 30 lbs" was her response. My dad's response was "speaking of which, you are now eating supper."
She barely ate dinner. And told my dad if he made her drink any more Gatorade she was going to get sick. My dad fretted around her. Filling water glasses with crushed ice and water not from the fridge but from the tap. Making her eat a banana later. Making her go to bed when it was clear she needed to go.
And as we talked, I assessed what needed to be done. Get mom to eat more. Clean up after my dad. Keep mom entertained.
I was a bit worried this morning (Saturday) when she got up. She was feeling nauseous. She was not eating or drinking. If she vomited once, she explained, she had to go back to the hospital as it could set off the whole dehydration thing again. Some anti-nausea medication and some food helped her feel better. I felt like a pusher. I knew food would help. So I kept pushing her until she finally ate.
We ran a couple errands after breakfast and came back for lunch. She had been talking about chicken salad sandwiches the night before, so I offered to make one for her. Dad had gotten some roasted chickens from a deli counter the night before, so there was plenty of chicken for things.
I should mention that my mom's greatest challenge right now is her diet. She is not allowed to eat any dairy because of her medication, but because of her diverticulitis, she is unable to have a whole list of things that includes nothing with too much fiber - no beef or pork - no apples, peas, beans, whole wheat, anything with seeds, etc.
Chicken salad was doable however. So I made a big batch of it - and gave her a sandwich of it. She inhaled it.
We watched the last three Harry Potter movies. And as she caught up on the first two, I did all of the dishes - and cleaned the kitchen which was a HUGE mess. I cleaned off the dining room table which has been my dad's dumping ground for everything. I did all of their laundry including folding it. And I waited on her - making her eat snacks and drink lots of water. Once the house was pulled together, my mom's stress level was much lower. All of it was driving her nuts. I could understand why. While I am not a neat freak, the kitchen was out of control as was the dining room.
We watched movies together. We talked. And I took care of her.
Dad came home and immediately commented that my mom was looking better. Having the food helped. All she has been eating is baked potatoes with no butter on it - and a bit of chicken here or there. It was all she felt was safe. Getting some veggies in her that were on the "accepted list" as well as some protein was good.
Dinner was interesting. I made pasta and tried to sort of how to make a sauce that wasn't just olive oil and garlic. Pesto was out because it has cheese and nuts. Tomato based anything was out because of the seeds and she was iffy about it. So, I punted. I sautéed some garlic, onions, carrots and orange peppers in olive oil. Added the chicken and some chicken stock. Then once heated, sprinkled some flour on top to thicken it up a bit. Then added fresh basil. Score. Worked well. A creamy sauce without dairy. My mom devoured it with some crusty bread.
"You should ask Emmy for some dinner ideas before she leaves" was what my mom told my dad. My dad thanked her for saying his food sucks in a polite way. I told them there was leftovers.
My dad while we were alone thanked me for taking care of everything. Hey, it needed to get done was my feeling. Plus, she's mom. She never gets sick like this. We all should be taking care of her.
And this is also what I'll be informing my brothers too. Because they need to get their ass over here and help out a bit. Keep her company but help her. She can't do anything but sit around. Dad is working full time. Give the woman a hand.
May have to get out the verbal 2x4 for this conversation.
As for Dad, he is still freaked out. Her mortality was a bit too real for him earlier this week when she passed out in his arms. "I thought I lost her - right there" he has said to me several times. I think that is the other reason he was happy I was here - she would not be alone. He is afraid for her to be alone given what happend with her passing out three times.
Oh, and why did she have that happen? Why was there two bouts of dehydration in less than 48hrs of each other? The ER docs at the first hospital released her too fast. She wasn't fully hydrated and her electrolytes weren't right yet. As a result, she crashed again. The second hospital admitted her and it took them almost 16hrs to get her stable again. The first hospital had her in the ER for only half that time.
They may have to do surgery yet given the complications she has had. If this happens again, the complications and risks are greater while doing the surgery would fix it. We find out next week if that is what they decide.
I leave to go home Sunday morning. I wish I had more time to be with her, but I'm glad I was able to give her what time I had. I can only hope this upswing continues.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Right vs. Easy
Right is not always easy and easy is not always right.
I remember hearing that phrase for the first time in a parenting blog or something. I related to it because, well, at the time, I was doing hard things because it was right.
Who knew it would apply to polyamory as well.
I did the hardest thing in the world two weeks ago. I ended something with someone I care about and love very much. I believe in him. I believe he is more than the hard candy shell that surrounds him. But it wasn't enough. He wouldn't accept me as I was, but instead chose to judge me as he would others who are not me.
I was faced with a choice. Ride it out and be hurt - or just be done with it. After a long and hard conversation with both of us, I chose to be done. I needed to walk away completely. To sever it all. The hardest thing.
It isn't what I wanted. It still is not what I want. But I felt I was between a rock and a hard place - which kind of hurt do I want? I still question ever day if what I chose was right. I miss him. I hurt. I ache. It is far from easy.
And poor G.....he tolerates it. He tries to understand. But the woman he loves - the woman he cares about - is hurting - and it is hard for him. He holds me. He wipes away the tears. He is protecting me - protecting me for the first time ever.
There isn't one minute that goes by that I don't wonder if what I did was right. I miss him. It has created a void that I did not expect. I have cried more tears than I would have imagined.
I try to go on - I really do. But I worry. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Neither choice was the choice I wanted to make. Neither was going to result in something I was going to be happy with. Did I make the right one? Which misery would have been the best?
I am still not sure.
All I know is that I hope I'm worth it. All I can do is hope I'm worth it.
All I know is that I can't re-read parts of my blog. I there are days where I still remind myself to breath. And there have been lots of tears shed.
I lost one of my best friends.
I lost someone I thought knew me for who I am versus who they have had in the past.
I have lost a connection.
I have cried too many tears.
But I suspect that won't end here.
And while I hope it gets easier, I fear it is forever gone.
I fear that I will put up walls and lose me.
I fear I made the wrong decision.
Maybe I should have feared this instead of what I was going through.
I remember hearing that phrase for the first time in a parenting blog or something. I related to it because, well, at the time, I was doing hard things because it was right.
Who knew it would apply to polyamory as well.
I did the hardest thing in the world two weeks ago. I ended something with someone I care about and love very much. I believe in him. I believe he is more than the hard candy shell that surrounds him. But it wasn't enough. He wouldn't accept me as I was, but instead chose to judge me as he would others who are not me.
I was faced with a choice. Ride it out and be hurt - or just be done with it. After a long and hard conversation with both of us, I chose to be done. I needed to walk away completely. To sever it all. The hardest thing.
It isn't what I wanted. It still is not what I want. But I felt I was between a rock and a hard place - which kind of hurt do I want? I still question ever day if what I chose was right. I miss him. I hurt. I ache. It is far from easy.
And poor G.....he tolerates it. He tries to understand. But the woman he loves - the woman he cares about - is hurting - and it is hard for him. He holds me. He wipes away the tears. He is protecting me - protecting me for the first time ever.
There isn't one minute that goes by that I don't wonder if what I did was right. I miss him. It has created a void that I did not expect. I have cried more tears than I would have imagined.
I try to go on - I really do. But I worry. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Neither choice was the choice I wanted to make. Neither was going to result in something I was going to be happy with. Did I make the right one? Which misery would have been the best?
I am still not sure.
All I know is that I hope I'm worth it. All I can do is hope I'm worth it.
All I know is that I can't re-read parts of my blog. I there are days where I still remind myself to breath. And there have been lots of tears shed.
I lost one of my best friends.
I lost someone I thought knew me for who I am versus who they have had in the past.
I have lost a connection.
I have cried too many tears.
But I suspect that won't end here.
And while I hope it gets easier, I fear it is forever gone.
I fear that I will put up walls and lose me.
I fear I made the wrong decision.
Maybe I should have feared this instead of what I was going through.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
HNT - Pause
Common Sense is Uncommon
I know, I know....I'm stating the obvious again.
But geesh, people! Why cannot common sense be more common than uncommon?
Please??
Pretty please with sugar?
I am working with a project team that is not my own. I made the big mistake of asking if anyone needed help and got the fun job of assigning defects during project testing back to the appropriate analyst for assessment. If you have not worked doing any sort of software implementation before, it goes like this:
1. Write up the requirements.
2. Design the system to the requirements.
3. Build the system.
4. Test the system.
5. Fix the bugs.
6. Retest the system.
7. Train the users.
8. Have the users test the system.
9. Fix the bugs.
10. Retest the system.
11. Go live on the system.
12. Celebrate the project is done.
This is a basic flow of how things go. I could go into agile develop cycles or "SCRUM" cycles where there are pigs and chicken - but let's just stick with the simple, tried and true approach.
We are on step 4. The system is getting tested based on a test list of what to test. This list includes things like how many characters you should be able to type into a field, testing that the forms look right, testing that if you hit that button it does what it is supposed to, etc. All the little pieces are getting tested.
If a bug is found, it has to be reviewed by someone who knows what should have happened. Our testers have no idea. They are working off of test scripts created from the requirements documents. The documents could have changed, so its always a good place to start.
Yesterday and today, I have been assigning the defects back to the people who know the requirements. They wrote the requirements. After pissing them all off yesterday (because they have enough to do - they shouldn't have to support testing too), I finally got a flaming email of "Great, what are we supposed to do now??"
Even if you are new to the process, step one would be simple. READ the defect. No, I had to tell them to read them.
"OK, we read them. Now what?"
Are you kidding me??
So, I sent them another message. "Is what is expected to happen supposed to happen based on the requirements YOU wrote?"
"We have to look at the requirements again?!?"
Head-desk.
This process has continued on and on as I am literally spoon feeding them stuff that - to most people, let alone people in their job position - would think is common sense. I mean "using what you know of the project, does that defect make sense as a valid one?" Followed by "Does it work that way for you?" Easy stuff.
"Ok, so it is a valid defect, now what?"
Oh, Lord, grant me the serenity to not kill one of them. Or at least provide me a weapon that will motivate the others to use the brains located in their heads.
Today, I have had to listen to rant after rant about how this doesn't make sense that they would have to test it too. It's not their job. (It IS their job.) They don't have time. (This is all they have to do.) There are a lot of them. (Of course there are a lot - it's the first couple days of testing.) It's hard. (No shit. It's why its called work.)
My favorite lack of common sense thing is a really basic thing anyone knows working in a cubicle environment.
If you are going to bitch about the woman assigning you the defects, you should not do it while standing next to her cube. Check to make sure you know where she is sitting first. Or better yet, do it away from the cubes.
And yes, I did make sure that person got more defects assigned to them than the others.
Hey, I don't care if they get pissed off. I'm not the project manager. I'm only the idiot that should have had enough common sense to say "no".
But geesh, people! Why cannot common sense be more common than uncommon?
Please??
Pretty please with sugar?
I am working with a project team that is not my own. I made the big mistake of asking if anyone needed help and got the fun job of assigning defects during project testing back to the appropriate analyst for assessment. If you have not worked doing any sort of software implementation before, it goes like this:
1. Write up the requirements.
2. Design the system to the requirements.
3. Build the system.
4. Test the system.
5. Fix the bugs.
6. Retest the system.
7. Train the users.
8. Have the users test the system.
9. Fix the bugs.
10. Retest the system.
11. Go live on the system.
12. Celebrate the project is done.
This is a basic flow of how things go. I could go into agile develop cycles or "SCRUM" cycles where there are pigs and chicken - but let's just stick with the simple, tried and true approach.
We are on step 4. The system is getting tested based on a test list of what to test. This list includes things like how many characters you should be able to type into a field, testing that the forms look right, testing that if you hit that button it does what it is supposed to, etc. All the little pieces are getting tested.
If a bug is found, it has to be reviewed by someone who knows what should have happened. Our testers have no idea. They are working off of test scripts created from the requirements documents. The documents could have changed, so its always a good place to start.
Yesterday and today, I have been assigning the defects back to the people who know the requirements. They wrote the requirements. After pissing them all off yesterday (because they have enough to do - they shouldn't have to support testing too), I finally got a flaming email of "Great, what are we supposed to do now??"
Even if you are new to the process, step one would be simple. READ the defect. No, I had to tell them to read them.
"OK, we read them. Now what?"
Are you kidding me??
So, I sent them another message. "Is what is expected to happen supposed to happen based on the requirements YOU wrote?"
"We have to look at the requirements again?!?"
Head-desk.
This process has continued on and on as I am literally spoon feeding them stuff that - to most people, let alone people in their job position - would think is common sense. I mean "using what you know of the project, does that defect make sense as a valid one?" Followed by "Does it work that way for you?" Easy stuff.
"Ok, so it is a valid defect, now what?"
Oh, Lord, grant me the serenity to not kill one of them. Or at least provide me a weapon that will motivate the others to use the brains located in their heads.
Today, I have had to listen to rant after rant about how this doesn't make sense that they would have to test it too. It's not their job. (It IS their job.) They don't have time. (This is all they have to do.) There are a lot of them. (Of course there are a lot - it's the first couple days of testing.) It's hard. (No shit. It's why its called work.)
My favorite lack of common sense thing is a really basic thing anyone knows working in a cubicle environment.
If you are going to bitch about the woman assigning you the defects, you should not do it while standing next to her cube. Check to make sure you know where she is sitting first. Or better yet, do it away from the cubes.
And yes, I did make sure that person got more defects assigned to them than the others.
Hey, I don't care if they get pissed off. I'm not the project manager. I'm only the idiot that should have had enough common sense to say "no".
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Crazy Day
I woke up at 2am. Just randomly woke up. I wasn't sure why. In fact, I laid there in bed wondering what woke me up. I drifted back to sleep into crazy dreams.
I was in an office building downtown. There were five elevators in this brand new modern building. And they were screwing up. Up or down things weren't working right. After waiting and waiting and waiting, I finally got onto one. I hit the floor number I needed to get off on, and it would not go to that floor. It went a floor below it, then four floors above it. I kept getting more and more frustrated. Why couldn't it get to the right floor?? It drove me nuts.
I woke up finding it funny that what I wanted was not happening. Where I needed to go wasn't happening. I was at the mercy of something out of my control and it was fucking with me.
I drifted back to sleep to another dream.
We were headed downtown to fix a problem. On our way, we got side tracked. We needed something and ended up going to a place that didn't make sense with where we needed to go. Others were convinced it was the right path. I was not. It was non-linear. The logic being presented did not follow. And no one was listening to me. I was left following along and getting frustrated. What the fuck was their problem.
And that frustration was where I woke up.
The next dream was just as crazy. I was trying to fix a problem. I had tried to get the issue resolved but people kept getting in the middle of it with illogical and irrational opinions. It was like it outweighed what needed to happen. Egos and attitudes were getting in the way. Finally, I pushed them out of the way and tried to get it dealt with. In the end, it didn't matter. The issue continued. I got no where. And I left annoyed at it all.
These were the dream I had over the course of four hours. The theme isn't hard to guess. It doesn't take someone with dream interpretation experience to figure it out. And when I woke up, I got a message from my brother: "did you get a call from dad at 2am?"
Mom was taken to the hospital at 2am via ambulance. She woke up, went to the bathroom, passed out twice, came out to get my dad up, and passed out in his arms. He told me it freaked him out. She passed out, and he caught her - eyes open - unresponsive and light as a feather. He thought she was gone. He called 911 as he tried to revive her.
She was dehydrated - again. Sunday she spent almost 12 hrs in the hospital getting rehydrated and electrolyte levels ups. Monday she sounded 100x better. She was eating and drinking and didn't have any issues. Then she passes out three times and is admitted for dehydration again. It doesn't make sense.
Thankfully the docs in the hospital decided something else was going on - not what was diagnosed. They have been rehydrating her all day - getting her potassium levels back to normal - that took 14hrs to get it right. And they are keeping her overnight. She is stable. But they still don't know anything.
My mom was hoping to get back to her mom's funeral, but that is out the window now. Her siblings are telling her to stay here and get well. Not that we were going to let her go.
I am emotionally and mentally tired. It has been along eight days. As I told G, this is the worst week of my life. He agreed. I don't want to think it can't get worse because, well, it can get worse. I just want it to get better. I want it to improve. I want life to start looking up.
I need a laugh. I need things to stop going downhill.
I need better dreams.
I was in an office building downtown. There were five elevators in this brand new modern building. And they were screwing up. Up or down things weren't working right. After waiting and waiting and waiting, I finally got onto one. I hit the floor number I needed to get off on, and it would not go to that floor. It went a floor below it, then four floors above it. I kept getting more and more frustrated. Why couldn't it get to the right floor?? It drove me nuts.
I woke up finding it funny that what I wanted was not happening. Where I needed to go wasn't happening. I was at the mercy of something out of my control and it was fucking with me.
I drifted back to sleep to another dream.
We were headed downtown to fix a problem. On our way, we got side tracked. We needed something and ended up going to a place that didn't make sense with where we needed to go. Others were convinced it was the right path. I was not. It was non-linear. The logic being presented did not follow. And no one was listening to me. I was left following along and getting frustrated. What the fuck was their problem.
And that frustration was where I woke up.
The next dream was just as crazy. I was trying to fix a problem. I had tried to get the issue resolved but people kept getting in the middle of it with illogical and irrational opinions. It was like it outweighed what needed to happen. Egos and attitudes were getting in the way. Finally, I pushed them out of the way and tried to get it dealt with. In the end, it didn't matter. The issue continued. I got no where. And I left annoyed at it all.
These were the dream I had over the course of four hours. The theme isn't hard to guess. It doesn't take someone with dream interpretation experience to figure it out. And when I woke up, I got a message from my brother: "did you get a call from dad at 2am?"
Mom was taken to the hospital at 2am via ambulance. She woke up, went to the bathroom, passed out twice, came out to get my dad up, and passed out in his arms. He told me it freaked him out. She passed out, and he caught her - eyes open - unresponsive and light as a feather. He thought she was gone. He called 911 as he tried to revive her.
She was dehydrated - again. Sunday she spent almost 12 hrs in the hospital getting rehydrated and electrolyte levels ups. Monday she sounded 100x better. She was eating and drinking and didn't have any issues. Then she passes out three times and is admitted for dehydration again. It doesn't make sense.
Thankfully the docs in the hospital decided something else was going on - not what was diagnosed. They have been rehydrating her all day - getting her potassium levels back to normal - that took 14hrs to get it right. And they are keeping her overnight. She is stable. But they still don't know anything.
My mom was hoping to get back to her mom's funeral, but that is out the window now. Her siblings are telling her to stay here and get well. Not that we were going to let her go.
I am emotionally and mentally tired. It has been along eight days. As I told G, this is the worst week of my life. He agreed. I don't want to think it can't get worse because, well, it can get worse. I just want it to get better. I want it to improve. I want life to start looking up.
I need a laugh. I need things to stop going downhill.
I need better dreams.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Rest in Peace
She was one of twelve kids, if my memory serves me correctly. She and my grandpa got married right after they graduated high school. Both moved from their family farms to their own. My aunt was born soon after. Nine kids were in total. In addition to being a farmer's wife and managing the kids, she was also a substitute teacher at the local Catholic school. Later in life, she became a nurses aid.
This is the glossy version of her life - the one that will likely be summarized in her obituary in the coming days.
But when I wish my grandma peace, I wish it not because she had been riddled by Alzeimers and its complications. But because she had one hell of a life.
Grandma, we found out when I was in college, sustained a huge amount of abuse at the hands of her father. She would be beaten. She would be locked in the cellar for long periods of time. She would be emotionally battered. Was their sexual abuse? Probably given some things that came to light later in her life.
Her siblings kept silent about it until she was almost 70 years old. For whatever reason, no one will ever know - she was her father's target. No one else was - just her. My grandpa who was a level headed man who you rarely saw get mad exploded upon learning this from her sister while my grandpa lay in the hospital. Besides the obvious reasons, he spent his entire life with her trying to figure out what triggered things.
You see, my grandpa was an abuser of prescription medications. She took them to sleep. She took them to manage pain that likely was not physical. She took them to chase away her demons.
She saw therapists over the years. And the story and reasons all changed. Her kids received letters explaining why they were the cause of her issues. Her kids received letters of her apologizing for the abuse she let happen to them at the hands of their uncle - my grandpa's brother who was born with Down Syndrome and lived with him. (This abuse never happened - all the siblings checked with each other as none of them found their uncle anything but a sweet loving man who kept to himself and worked his ass off on the farm.) Anytime a letter came from my grandma, the kids would call each other to warn each other to toss it. They stopped reading them because the stories were fake.
After learning about her abuse, many of us put things together. She was abused. She was hated by her parents. She was blamed for their issues. She was locked in the cellar. She was talking about herself. No one including her therapists had put it together until her sister finally spoke about it all.
The damage to my grandpa was already done. For me, growing up, grandma was never there mentally or emotionally. You would talk to her and hug her, and she was in her own world powered by the drugs. There were moments where she came out of it. After her hospitalization where the abuse came to light, the doctors treated her. But the damage was already done. We never got to see her for who she was. She was more present, but she was stunted by the abuse and the years of never dealing with it.
My fondest memory of my grandpa was when my mom and my grandma surprised me with a visit. I was pregnant with DJ, and my friends planned a surprise baby shower. The surprise included my dad sending my mom and my grandma. It was three days of spending time with both of them. Grandma was unfiltered - talkative - and told stories about giving birth to her own kids. My grandpa was actually there with her each time. This is really the only memory of I have her that did not include her sleeping through family gatherings or floating adrift among the family not really engaging.
Probably the best thing in the world was her starting to lose her mind through Alzeimers. It was probably the first time she felt free. She was free to love her kids and her family. She was free of the demons and the memories. She had an escape - and one that did not make her into a zombie.
This is the peace I wish my grandma. I want there to be a heaven just so she can actually find a place where she can laugh, where she can be without the physical and mental pain, where she and my grandpa can love each other as they were meant to love each other here.
This is the peace I want for her.
Will I miss her?
Of course. Not having Grandpa around will be odd.
But I am happy she will be at peace.
This is the glossy version of her life - the one that will likely be summarized in her obituary in the coming days.
But when I wish my grandma peace, I wish it not because she had been riddled by Alzeimers and its complications. But because she had one hell of a life.
Grandma, we found out when I was in college, sustained a huge amount of abuse at the hands of her father. She would be beaten. She would be locked in the cellar for long periods of time. She would be emotionally battered. Was their sexual abuse? Probably given some things that came to light later in her life.
Her siblings kept silent about it until she was almost 70 years old. For whatever reason, no one will ever know - she was her father's target. No one else was - just her. My grandpa who was a level headed man who you rarely saw get mad exploded upon learning this from her sister while my grandpa lay in the hospital. Besides the obvious reasons, he spent his entire life with her trying to figure out what triggered things.
You see, my grandpa was an abuser of prescription medications. She took them to sleep. She took them to manage pain that likely was not physical. She took them to chase away her demons.
She saw therapists over the years. And the story and reasons all changed. Her kids received letters explaining why they were the cause of her issues. Her kids received letters of her apologizing for the abuse she let happen to them at the hands of their uncle - my grandpa's brother who was born with Down Syndrome and lived with him. (This abuse never happened - all the siblings checked with each other as none of them found their uncle anything but a sweet loving man who kept to himself and worked his ass off on the farm.) Anytime a letter came from my grandma, the kids would call each other to warn each other to toss it. They stopped reading them because the stories were fake.
After learning about her abuse, many of us put things together. She was abused. She was hated by her parents. She was blamed for their issues. She was locked in the cellar. She was talking about herself. No one including her therapists had put it together until her sister finally spoke about it all.
The damage to my grandpa was already done. For me, growing up, grandma was never there mentally or emotionally. You would talk to her and hug her, and she was in her own world powered by the drugs. There were moments where she came out of it. After her hospitalization where the abuse came to light, the doctors treated her. But the damage was already done. We never got to see her for who she was. She was more present, but she was stunted by the abuse and the years of never dealing with it.
My fondest memory of my grandpa was when my mom and my grandma surprised me with a visit. I was pregnant with DJ, and my friends planned a surprise baby shower. The surprise included my dad sending my mom and my grandma. It was three days of spending time with both of them. Grandma was unfiltered - talkative - and told stories about giving birth to her own kids. My grandpa was actually there with her each time. This is really the only memory of I have her that did not include her sleeping through family gatherings or floating adrift among the family not really engaging.
Probably the best thing in the world was her starting to lose her mind through Alzeimers. It was probably the first time she felt free. She was free to love her kids and her family. She was free of the demons and the memories. She had an escape - and one that did not make her into a zombie.
This is the peace I wish my grandma. I want there to be a heaven just so she can actually find a place where she can laugh, where she can be without the physical and mental pain, where she and my grandpa can love each other as they were meant to love each other here.
This is the peace I want for her.
Will I miss her?
Of course. Not having Grandpa around will be odd.
But I am happy she will be at peace.
Motivational Monday #30
Happy Monday!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
When Worlds Collide
G is having problems.
He is a teacher.
He is a dad.
He teaches his daughter.
His TWEEN daughter.
Since he has been a teacher in her school since she was 5, they established an understanding quickly. He is a teacher - not her dad - when they are in the school together. Obviously there are exceptions. But generally, it is the agreement. She learned this agreement the hard way when she sassed him one day when he was in teacher mode. Since that day, it has been great. No problems.
Until now.
DJ has a couple of boys who have been circling her. G admitted that if they had any game, they would be fighting over her. Thankfully they are still young enough they aren't hitting her in the arm or pulling her hair, but they aren't blatantly flirting either.
The other day at work, I get a text ...
"Grrrr...the boy has moved himself to sit next to DJ. I want to make him go back to his seat, but I generally don't care - but that's my daughter he's flirting with damn it!"
I laughed my ass off. And reminded him that as a teacher, he can't do anything unless it is an educational issue.
He asked me if I was sure.
Later in the day, she approached G about the evening plans. The boy and his family live near us. They were wondering if they could take DJ to school event being held that evening.
"So she has a date?? Good for DJ!" was my reply.
"I need a shot gun was his reply. And I'm going to make him not sit anywhere near DJ in class."
"If you would like her to treat you like a teacher and not Dad, you need to treat her like a student and not your daughter."
"Do I have to?? Please tell me I don't." was his reply.
"YES! If you don't, I'll give her permission to start whining at you and all."
Later that night, he went to the school event being held off school grounds with a flask in his pocket and knowing he could not spend the night trying to keep the boy from DJ.
Being the good wife I am, I have spent my time since that night dropping little comments as though DJ has confided in me about that night. "She got her first kiss in the corn maze in the dark."
I think he's going to get his revenge at some point. Until then, I like to consider this desensitivitiy training for him. Poor guy.
He is a teacher.
He is a dad.
He teaches his daughter.
His TWEEN daughter.
Since he has been a teacher in her school since she was 5, they established an understanding quickly. He is a teacher - not her dad - when they are in the school together. Obviously there are exceptions. But generally, it is the agreement. She learned this agreement the hard way when she sassed him one day when he was in teacher mode. Since that day, it has been great. No problems.
Until now.
DJ has a couple of boys who have been circling her. G admitted that if they had any game, they would be fighting over her. Thankfully they are still young enough they aren't hitting her in the arm or pulling her hair, but they aren't blatantly flirting either.
The other day at work, I get a text ...
"Grrrr...the boy has moved himself to sit next to DJ. I want to make him go back to his seat, but I generally don't care - but that's my daughter he's flirting with damn it!"
I laughed my ass off. And reminded him that as a teacher, he can't do anything unless it is an educational issue.
He asked me if I was sure.
Later in the day, she approached G about the evening plans. The boy and his family live near us. They were wondering if they could take DJ to school event being held that evening.
"So she has a date?? Good for DJ!" was my reply.
"I need a shot gun was his reply. And I'm going to make him not sit anywhere near DJ in class."
"If you would like her to treat you like a teacher and not Dad, you need to treat her like a student and not your daughter."
"Do I have to?? Please tell me I don't." was his reply.
"YES! If you don't, I'll give her permission to start whining at you and all."
Later that night, he went to the school event being held off school grounds with a flask in his pocket and knowing he could not spend the night trying to keep the boy from DJ.
Being the good wife I am, I have spent my time since that night dropping little comments as though DJ has confided in me about that night. "She got her first kiss in the corn maze in the dark."
I think he's going to get his revenge at some point. Until then, I like to consider this desensitivitiy training for him. Poor guy.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
HNT - Walk
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Story Time....
Once upon a time, there was a girl who was dating this guy. He liked her very much, but didn't want a relationship - let alone a serious relationship. So he reminded her on a semi-regular basis that it was not what he wanted - no serious relationship - no long-term thing. He was looking to have fun - and that was it.
The girl would roll her eyes. The girl would shake her head. The girl would let it roll off her back until one day, he said it at the wrong time with her in the wrong frame of mind. And she flipped.
Why?
Because it was his issue. He was the one who was scared. She was simply enjoying the ride - taking one day as it came. She didn't know what she wanted, per say, but she wanted a giggle. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to enjoy what she had instead of fretting about tomorrow because she knew that now was all we had. And lots could change.
When she flipped, she verbally smacked him across the head. She hadn't sought these things herself, yet here she was. She was enjoying the ride. She was enjoying the sex. She was enjoying the giggles. She was enjoying the energy. For now was all she had.
Plus, the situation was what it was - she wasn't making anything up.
Soon after, he stopped saying those things. He started settling into the situation. He started enjoying the situation instead of worrying so much about tomorrow - instead of worrying about the "what if" situations. Instead of worrying that history with other girls would repeat itself now.
And he found peace. It was not perfect, but it was good. They both had giggles. They both savored what they had. He stopped worrying about those things - and started taking it all in.
This was the first couple of years of my relationship with G. He was scared. He hated the idea of relationships because, for him, relationships all ended the same way - badly. It started when he was a kid - watching his parents' relationship implode - than his dad and step-mom struggling as well. For him, relationships were evil - relationships were to be avoided.
But that was his baggage. Not mine. I had not gone down this path with him alone - I had gone down it with him. He had gone down with it, not an unwilling participant, but a partner in it. And, at the time, I was not ready for the what-ifs. I was not ready for the other stuff. I wanted the now. I wanted the love. I wanted the sex. I wanted the giggles.
I learned a long time ago to not give up on people.
I learned a long time ago to make people own their own baggage - to force people to judge me as me - and not as the others.
I am not like the others. Clearly, G figured that out. Clearly, despite his issues, G decided I was worth the risk. I was worth it because I was unlike others. He chose me over the fear. Almost 20 years later, and it is good. Sure we have our ups and downs. But, we are able to do it because we accept each other not as we are - and not worry about how others have treated us in the past. We do not let fear lead us - but let love.
It's funny how history can repeat itself. I just wish it had a different ending. I want a good ending. I want the epiphany. I want the acceptance. I want someone to see me not as how others have been, but as I am. A person who is caring, understanding, and who believes that today is special - today should be savored - that a day without a giggle is a day wasted.
The girl would roll her eyes. The girl would shake her head. The girl would let it roll off her back until one day, he said it at the wrong time with her in the wrong frame of mind. And she flipped.
Why?
Because it was his issue. He was the one who was scared. She was simply enjoying the ride - taking one day as it came. She didn't know what she wanted, per say, but she wanted a giggle. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to enjoy what she had instead of fretting about tomorrow because she knew that now was all we had. And lots could change.
When she flipped, she verbally smacked him across the head. She hadn't sought these things herself, yet here she was. She was enjoying the ride. She was enjoying the sex. She was enjoying the giggles. She was enjoying the energy. For now was all she had.
Plus, the situation was what it was - she wasn't making anything up.
Soon after, he stopped saying those things. He started settling into the situation. He started enjoying the situation instead of worrying so much about tomorrow - instead of worrying about the "what if" situations. Instead of worrying that history with other girls would repeat itself now.
And he found peace. It was not perfect, but it was good. They both had giggles. They both savored what they had. He stopped worrying about those things - and started taking it all in.
This was the first couple of years of my relationship with G. He was scared. He hated the idea of relationships because, for him, relationships all ended the same way - badly. It started when he was a kid - watching his parents' relationship implode - than his dad and step-mom struggling as well. For him, relationships were evil - relationships were to be avoided.
But that was his baggage. Not mine. I had not gone down this path with him alone - I had gone down it with him. He had gone down with it, not an unwilling participant, but a partner in it. And, at the time, I was not ready for the what-ifs. I was not ready for the other stuff. I wanted the now. I wanted the love. I wanted the sex. I wanted the giggles.
I learned a long time ago to not give up on people.
I learned a long time ago to make people own their own baggage - to force people to judge me as me - and not as the others.
I am not like the others. Clearly, G figured that out. Clearly, despite his issues, G decided I was worth the risk. I was worth it because I was unlike others. He chose me over the fear. Almost 20 years later, and it is good. Sure we have our ups and downs. But, we are able to do it because we accept each other not as we are - and not worry about how others have treated us in the past. We do not let fear lead us - but let love.
It's funny how history can repeat itself. I just wish it had a different ending. I want a good ending. I want the epiphany. I want the acceptance. I want someone to see me not as how others have been, but as I am. A person who is caring, understanding, and who believes that today is special - today should be savored - that a day without a giggle is a day wasted.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Welts and Memories
“I like the way you welt,” he whispered to me as we were at a gathering of other kinksters in a local bar. A vanilla setting where we gathered weekly to meet and hang out with people of similar interest. The talk was mixed in terms of vanilla topics and other things, and our conversation had been very friendly - joking, talking about projects, and commenting on a few photos of gorgeous women that people had found on Fetlife that day.
It was between laughing and joking about something that he leaned over and said that into my ear as his hand rested on the small of my back.
I looked at him, smiled, and said he did a good job welting me up a few weeks back. “Did I say thank you for that?” I asked.
“You did, but it was my pleasure” was his reply.
Our conversation resumed back to whatever the group was talking about - but his hand remained.
The week before, the conversation around the gathering was about him too. A well known guy whose sadistic tendencies definitely precede him. “Who would ever play with him?” people asked, then added, “ he scares me.”
The friend of mine who knew the answer to that question contained his chuckle as he sought out my eyes. Then grinned when he found them.
Yep, I would.
That night was an interesting one. I was doing my thing at the monthly part at the club - greeting those who were clearly outside of their element with the kink going on - when he came into the place. After stashing his bag, he started making the rounds which included a huge hug for me - one that lifted me off my feet - his usual greeting with me. When his arm remained around me as we talked, I knew I had an interested party that night.
Each time we came back together as the night progressed, his arm would wind itself around my waist as he waited for his chance to see how things were going with me. I was doing my job, so I would flirt back and move on.
I had about 5 minutes left of my shift when he did it again. This time I was talking to an annoying guy who was a bit too into himself. Sensing the conversation was going off, his hand moved higher as he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. I was caught between trying not to be rude to the guy (who was rude) and letting myself savor the sensation that I love. He simply chuckled and offered his apologies as he released me. We continued to talk when he did it again - this time, I smiled, closed my eyes and moaned. Screw the conversation - I was enjoying this a hell of a lot more. The annoying guy left at this point, and I opened my eyes to him grinning at me. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?” I assured him he did but I didn’t care.
“What do you want tonight?”
Those were words to my ears. “I want to be roughed up,” I answered plainly.
“I guess we should negotiate then.”
I told him what I liked, what I needed, and told him we’d sort out the rest. He led me to the public play space, found a bench, and it was game on.
I got situated on the bench, and he unzipped my skirt so he could have access to my ass. “I like zippers” he said with a smile in his voice. He was the third guy who had said that as they unzipped my shirt, so it made me laugh.
He started with a warm-up and a spanking. It was good and solid and thuddy the way I like it in the beginning. He then paused to grab his bag. The bag was huge. I was in for it.
Out came his flogger - and he used it to continue his warm-up on my ass and back and thighs. I flogger can feel like a rough massage to me, so I was enjoying it - relaxing and absorbing each blow. Until a series of big blows hit. I arched my back after each one - moaning into the bench. I hurt, but it felt good.
As he switched out implements, the moans continued. The build up was intense. Each new toy brought a new sensation - a new kind of hurt - a new kind of high. I let my hair drop over my face as I found that place where the pain turned into pleasure. Periodically a blow would surprise me and I would sit up a bit - usually swearing as I processed the blow.
By the time he grabbed the single tail, I was plenty ready for it. Each stroke felt like a bit of fire against my skin - concentrated fire. In fact, I didn’t know what he was using until he snapped it next to me - the sound brought it into focus that I was getting a taste of his whip. And I realized how much I was enjoying it. Each snap he made to frighten me merely excited me as I waited for for the fire to begin again.
He put down the whip and came close to check on me. His hand grabbed my hair as he pulled me to a kneeling position on the bench - then pulled my head back. I could only moan and relax into it, letting my head fall back where he was pulling it. His other hand found my throat - and my moan got louder. “I think I found something else you like, did I?” he asked. “Oh yeah.” was all I could reply. He released my hair, and began stroking the welts on my ass as his other hand remained on my throat. He released me, and his hand slid to my back as he pushed me back into position. Once there, he left me to sort through his bag again for the next implement.
This pattern continued for the remained of the play time. With the next implements, he got into my head a bit more - a bit of a mind fuck as he used his toys on me. Telling me how to breath - making me relax so he could make sure I was pushed for the next round. More hands in my hair and on my throat. “I’m going to make sure that you have some great bruises now,” he bend down to say in my ear. My hair was still hiding my face from him and me from the rest of what was happening in the play area. I felt something large and flat on my ass as he lined up where he was going to swat. Then I felt it land hard on one cheek. The pain caused me to arch up against it as I know a string of profanity left my mouth as I processed the pain into a warm glow of pleasure. He repeated the same on the left side causing the same reaction from me.
“Uhm, stay right here. That last one broke open a welt and there is a small amount of blood. It’s all okay, just following the ‘no-blood’ rule,” he reassured me.
The dungeon masters were suddenly there to assess the situation. He dabbed off the blood with a tissue and showed me there was barely any blood. I was high and floaty, so I was fine. He helped me get my skirt back on, I wiped down the bench as he stashed his bag again, and we went and sat together as I came down. My ass was radiating heat - I could feel it through my skirt - and giggled as I made a similar comment to him. He pulled me in for a hug as we talked some more. This continued until he decided he was tired - and I was in need to move around. We hugged again - a big hug that lifted me off my feet - I kissed him and thanked him for roughing me up.
“You and I will have to do this again.”
Oh yeah. Definitely.
Even if others feel he is scary, I found him to welt me up nicely.
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