Internet BlackOut Day: January 18, 2012

End Piracy, Not Liberty
Websites Joining the Strike
EFF Blog
Where Your Representatives Stand

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Trash Talking Squirrels

When I moved in with Septimus a couple of years ago, we negoitated division of tasks. I explained that I would be happy to do the dishes, the laundry, the shopping, and almost anything else that needed to get done. But I told him that the one thing I didn’t do was taking out the trash to the curb on trashday. Usually I’m dressed in my work clothes and getting dirty at 6 am isn’t my idea of fun. We do have a woman who comes in to do the floors and bathrooms- as Septimus fondly puts it “nothing kills a relationship faster than arguing over who cleans the toilets”.

For the most part, he’s done an admirable job at keeping that end of the bargain (and yes, he has done dishes and laundry too). But as to the trash- sometimes he’ll ask me for help if it’s a particularly heavy recycling week, and sometimes I just stick around and help him because it’ll get done faster (not to mention that I always get a really awesome kiss and snuggle before getting into the car to drive to work). Sometimes though, I let him sleep and just do it myself. Especially if he’s had a late night. Especially more if he’s sleeping soundly and peacefully (he really is adorable when he’s sleeping).

What does this have to do with D/s? Nothing really. Except that not everything in a relationship (even one BASED on D/s) is written in stone. And nothing except that sometimes, taking out the garbage once in a while, dressed in work clothes, and letting your boyfriend sleep, even though it’s “his job” is just one small thing I do to show him that I really do want to make his life easier.

A partnership isn’t always about clear divisions. One based on a power exchange relationship even more so. Lines get fuzzy, things have to get done, people have personalities, needs, desires and responsibilities. Not everything in a D/s relationship fits neatly into the box. Being flexible and having a relationship outside of that box is absolutely necessary. It never has to be an all or nothing proposition in D/s. As long as you have a connection to it, it’s existence can be subtle and therefore seamlessly merged into a relationship.

When I think about taking out the trash and how that fairly mundane chore, which I dislike doing enormously, is a metaphor for the give and take that can happen even when He Is The Dom, it makes me laugh. It’s the little things, those mundane tasks, those private jokes, and those small thoughts that we have about each other, that connect us so that when we do have to spend time living outside of that box, we remember that it’s always a place we can go back to.

This morning, while I got ready for work, and he took the trash to the curb, I got my own reminder that he also thinks of the small things and does silly things to make me smile. My windshield was obviously defaced by a deranged squirrel with an odd symmetry fetish. Good thing I love deranged squirrels who take out the trash for me, huh?

Do Not Run with Twitterers

I REALLY (seriously really) wanted to write a nice upbeat New Years post about something fabulously insightful. Instead, I decided to get something off my chest that has been bugging me for a while.

I’ve long wanted to write a post about a few of the things that make me (as one good friend says) “BATSHIT CRAZY” about Twitter. I love Twitter generally, but there are a few things that I'm not so keen on, and in fact, will drive me away from it for days (or longer). In this case, I've been relatively absent from Twitter for the past couple of weeks because of a large amount of the following behaviors.

Twitter Peeve #1: Begging is Totally Non-Consensual

Look. I get it. People run into hard times. Medical emergencies, family emergencies, getting arrested for flashing a cop you thought was just a really cute girl...but setting up funds, tweeting about fundraisers and begging for money (especially for yourself) on twitter is, well...lame. I understand that giving to charity and things that are special to your life is cool, and I completely understand about needing help if stuck in a strange place without Yelp or a map, but coming on twitter and begging for money to help you in your “Run for Mr. Universe”, or to help you fund your next “Trip to Visit my Sick Grandmother” that just happens to coincide with, and in the same location as, say...Shibaricon isn’t fooling anyone. And in fact, it detracts from real, ACTUAL people who need legitimate help. I’d like to visit MY sick grandmother every year on Memorial Day weekend in Chicago, but it’s not realistic. I have to settle for visiting my crazy aunt in Providence at Valentine’s Day instead.

Twitter Peeve #2: Blocking and Cutting; or “Do Not Run with Twitters”

Threatening to “cull my twitter list” or “remove some of my followers”. If you want to remove people or followers, just do it. Warning people that the price for finding you entertaining or relevant is removal and/or blocking is rather like inviting them to confirm that you’re a jerk. Trust me, most people really don’t care one way or the other if you remove them or block them. Twitter especially has enough variety and action that it’s probably going to be months before anyone notices (if they ever do). But tweeting about doing it just makes people wonder why you’re so full of yourself that your PRONOUNCEMENT will be taken with anything other than a ho-hum, seeyalater, buh-bye.

And on the same note, asking people to tell you WHY you should continue following them before blocking them should they not provide an answer to your satisfaction. I look at those tweets and always wonder if my life would be better off without following you (or you following me) if that’s the way you really feel. Don’t follow me back. Block me. I’m ok with either. For the most part, I don’t even notice. For the other most part, did you ever stop and think that I might have LIKED what you posted but really had no desire to participate in your online conversations? Online voyeurism is part and parcel of living your life online. If you don’t like it don’t do it.

Twitter Peeve #3: Once (maybe Twice) is Enough; More is Always Too Much

Posting and reposting and reposting and posting some more your daily blog activity. People blog. I get it. Heck I do it myself. But posting multiple times about your latest blog post is not going to get people reading it any more than they already do. And really? Whining that people “aren’t showing you any love” on your blog? If you blog, do it for yourself and not because you want to be stroked by people telling you what a perfect absolutely marvelous person you are to have written such an insightful and well drafted post. If it IS those things, and you ARE an absolutely marvelous person, people will post blog comments. Stamping your foot (or the equivalent- blasting dozens of times on twitter) about it is more likely to get you dropped from my blog roll.

Twitter Peeve #4: Don’t Shit Where You Eat.

Whining about being paid for presenting at cons, classes, events or whatever. Bitching about how unfairly you were treated by organizers. For most people, we’ve never heard of you. Having Lee Harrington presenting holds about the same weight as having Joe Schmuckatelly presenting. While more experienced kinksters get to know the “superstar names” (a few who are actually a draw and can put butts into chairs) most people coming into these events for the first time don’t have a clue who most of the presenters are. And while you may make your living as a professional kinkster teaching other kinksters how to do things in the one twue way, and while you expect to be paid for your insight, please be aware that complaining about the lack of compensation on social media is a major faux pas and makes you look ungrateful that there are actually people who might want to hear you, but will now likely look at that event as “defective” because YOU’RE complaining about it. For most presenters, no matter how great they may be (and there are a ton of great ones out there); they’re still a very small fish in a very large pond.

Twitter Peeve #5 Sometimes There IS such a Thing as Too Much Information
(and What That Is Varies)

I can't truly be more specific with this one without calling out specific examples- which I'm not going to do. Suffice to say that I find few things more distasteful than totally disrespecting other people's boundaries or privacy. Thinly veiled references and passive aggressive tweets should come with a warning. And even more specifically- photographs of your cunt rash du jour should NEVER be tweeted without appropriately warning people that what you're about to tweet might be considered "TMI".

There's more, but I just can't think straight right now. But not to worry- I'm gonna break one of my own peeves even as I finish this post. I've dumped most of the worst offenders from my stream this week.

Sorry about that- But on the bright side- I'm sure it'll be a while before you even notice.




PS: This is solely my own opinion and not necessarily shared with "The Management" ie. Septimus- if you have a snit- talk to me, not to him.

Happy New Year

Dee Dennis and I were talking a few weeks ago about how many shoes I actually owned. Frankly, I stopped counting because I was deathly afraid I was becoming one of those hoarder people and that someday, I'd be found buried beneath a mountain (Everest??) of shoes, boots, and sandals. For the few people who have been privileged to peek in my closet- they have no doubt I'm a shoe whore. For the rest of you- I'm beginning my year in pictures for 2012. Every day I'll be posting a picture of me wearing one pair of my shoes. I'm curious if I can do it, and frankly- I'm even more curious to know if I've reached over 365 pairs.

So, here's to my shoe whore life in pictures for 2012. Happy New Year!

2012 Shoe Whore of the Day Pix

Just Ducky

Septimus and I were having dinner last night when the subject of consent came up again. It usually does after I’ve spent any amount of time perusing things online. I mentioned that I really didn’t want to get involved with a simple “yes means yes” or “no means no” kind of thing. He asked me why. I told him bluntly that relying SOLELY on a change in the attitude of the person who is intent on harming someone will always be a failure and that both of those phrases seemed to put the focus on forgetting that there were people in this world that, no matter what anyone said, will still harm you.

Then he told me a story.

There was a scorpion on the bank of a river. The scorpion wanted to cross the river, but because he WAS a scorpion and couldn’t swim, he couldn’t figure out how to do it. The scorpion waited for a while, looking for options, and finally a duck swam by on the river.

The scorpion called to the duck “hey duck! I need a lift to the other side of the river- can you help me out?” The duck, eyeing the scorpion warily said “are you fucking kidding me? you’re a SCORPION and will sting me!”.

The scorpion and the duck went back and forth, the scorpion asking for a lift and saying that he wouldn't sting the duck; and the duck saying that the scorpion was dangerous. Finally, the duck relented and said “ok..as long as you won’t sting me, hop on and I’ll give you a lift”.

About half way across the river, the scorpion stung the duck.

The duck said “ARE YOU STUPID?! Now we’re both going to drown! You SAID you wouldn’t sting me!

To which the scorpion replied “you KNEW I was a scorpion, right?”

If one is a duck, despite promises to the contrary, despite how things appear, and despite how you WANT things to be different, you still gotta remember that a scorpion will always sting you.

Photo courtesy of Good Weather for Ducks

How Google is Creepy

For most people, we try to draw a fine line between having fun on the internet with our kink, and keeping that fun out of our employer’s, family’s, or civic organization’s hands. We don’t mind talking about the great beating we got (or gave) on Friday night, but we don’t really want our next potential employer, ex spouse, or custody-deciding judge to know about it.

Ever since I had a problem with someone on Fetlife, I’ve kept a watch on his profile. At first it was because he kept posting shit about me on his own pictures (so I couldn’t remove it). Then it turned into a sort of sociology experiment- could this asshat actually learn enough from the internet to get a decent profile together and draw in someone?

Thankfully, in almost a year of checking up on his profile, he still hasn’t figured it out. In fact, he’s garnered several groups specifically designed to call attention to his asshattery, dozens of blog posts about it (not just mine), and even had a fetish named for him. But when he started posting pictures of very young girls, I became concerned (yes, I DO actually report those kinds of pictures). Suffice to say that I’m not the only one keeping an eye on this douchenozzle.

When I tweeted about his latest exploits, one of my friends tweeted back that my behavior was bordering on “scary stalker territory”. That threw me for a little bit of a loop. Was I being stalkerish? In order to know that, I had to figure out why this guy’s antics fascinated me so much. And what my motivations were for keeping an eye on him.

And then I realized that it wasn’t so much about him, as it was about him being the poster boy for all of the other creepy, wanker, jackasses who find our online kink world and instead of using it to explore kink in a really cool way, they use it as a means to bring the rest of us into their fantasy. For the most part- unconsensually. From comments on pictures, to trolling groups, to posting stolen pictures as their own, to sending the same idiotic messages to hundreds (sometimes thousands) of people- without regard for the person receiving such messages. To them, the people on the internet aren’t “real”. He’s become the focal point for all of those douchenozzles that have found our way into our community spaces, our munches and our online world who just don’t fucking “get it”. Sadly- his example isn’t unique.

But back to my point- when watching this guys profile change almost daily, it became clear that he didn’t know very much about how the internet worked. He thought that his Fetlife profile was his own site, he thought that everyone was there for the same reason he was- namely to find someone to act as a conduit for living out his fantasy. But what was most interesting to me was that he posted several versions of his “story”, using real locations and names of the people involved. From there, it wasn’t difficult to actually FIND him.

He posted his email address on one thread. Googling that one turned up his real name, his OKCupid profile, and his blog. Googling his real name gave me his address, telephone number, his wife and children’s names, and even his birthdate and last four digits of his social security number. From there, it was easy to get a picture of his neighborhood, find out about his service record, his birthdate and his income. And I never touched any of the “other databases” that are easily accessed for small fees. Or for that matter, did I bother with Ancestry, county property records or any of the other hundreds of databases that are available for free.

It was scary how much I found out about this guy from a simple posting of an email address.

And it made me think about how easy it would be to ACTUALLY stalk someone. It also made it perfectly clear to me that even if we THINK we cover our own tracks, it’s nearly impossible to do so. For someone with time, a few dollars and motivation, it’s all too easy to find out too much information. It doesn’t take a genius and in fact- the tools available to do it are so easily found on Google that it probably wouldn’t even take my grandmother more than a few clicks to do it. There would be few things worse for many of us than to be outed in our online lives. It’s as easy for stalkers, ex spouses, judges, lawyers and employers to get this information as it is for me to do it.

So, I wonder- have you stalked yourself online lately?

Fifteen Minutes

I had a quiet weekend at home this past weekend. I got some things done I’d been wanting to do, and I was able to relax. The stress of being part of “The Community” was beginning to bring me down.

I’d been undergoing a sort of metamorphosis over the past few months. From wanting to hang around kinky people doing kinky shit to simply wanting to stay more along the fringes- choosing things that mattered to me, not choosing them simply because they were there. I told Septimus a few weeks back, that I wasn’t having any “fun”. But what it really is is that I’m not having fun doing what I’ve been expected to do as part of “The Community”.

I’m not having fun at conventions. The reason I’m not having fun is that because for the most part- it’s the same people, same classes, same instructors over and over again. After you’ve attended a dozen or more of the same convention, shopped at the same vendors, seen the same classes and spent a long weekend spending too much money with too little return, it gets tiresome. After about 15 minutes in any class, I'm ready to head back to my hotel room, snuggle up in bed, and order room service.

I’m not having fun at classes for much of the same reasons. There aren’t enough interesting classes being taught by “no-name” people with unique points of view. The “money” is the Graydancers, Midoris and Lochais. But when you’ve seen them a dozen times, finding a fresh point of view becomes difficult. This isn’t a crack about whether those top echelons should teach at an event or not, but very often I find myself drawn to the classes by someone I haven’t seen before simply because I’m curious about what THEY have to show me. The big names are good for about 15 minutes, but beyond that, for me, it all starts to be the same.

I’m not having fun at munches for obvious reasons, I think. Too many of them are too large, too chaotic, and run too much like a place solely to meet a potential play partner. And too many of them have an element that is uncomfortable for me personally to be around. Too many with boundary issues and with a lack of social skills to match. Fifteen minutes into any munch, I've already explained several times that "no, I'm not A submissive...."and I’m ready to call it a day.

And I’m not having fun at parties. Most are too large for my liking, with few places to play or even to just sit and talk while waiting to play. Getting dressed up, planning a scene, and waiting several hours before finding out that we won’t be able to do it is aggravating. Watching large scenes as a performance is pretty standard nowadays and as hot as they sometimes can be, having someone else’s scene take over an entire room for a couple of hours just makes me wonder why I bothered to go in the first place.

I sit and think about all the weekends I spent at parties and conventions and classes and wondered if any of it made any bit of difference in my life. Did playing in public make my life better? Or did it just give people a false assumption about me? And I wonder if now, that I’ve formed several close relationships with people, most of which have become my own sort of "core friend group" is it really even necessary for me to dress up in fetish wear, worry about photographs being taken, or wonder which person at *this* party is gonna be the dude/tte who will be out of line and unaware of boundaries. I spent so much time floating from one event to another, one party to another, one fifteen minute scene to another, that nothing I was doing seemed more than a blip on my radar. Forgotten about within the time span of a plate of pancakes after the party. When you’re looking forward to sitting with friends AFTER the party at IHOP for pancakes, more than the party itself- something has to give.

I blame the internet for a lot of my apathy. Being part of The Community, it was too easy to get wrapped up in the various shitstorms, personality conflicts, opinions and wankerdoodles. I’d look at profiles of people posting on Fetlife and my first reaction many times was “what a shithead”. I was beginning to view Fetlife as just another place where horny guys came to view all the titty shots- without having to pay for them. And just another place where it started to draw the kinds of people who think that they’re watching some sort of freak show happening right on their computer screen- and the freaks are the girls who are obviously all whores- who would happily fall upon their cock like a woman with her first pair of Louboutins.

Other than to wish a friend a happy birthday, I’ve stayed off Fetlife for the past week or so. I’ve stayed out of groups, I haven’t read threads, I stopped looking at Lopresto’s profile, and I haven’t missed it. If I want to find my friends- I know that they’re seldom there as well. And I know that if something is pretty funny- they’ll let me know about it. I don’t have to be on Fetlife to keep in touch with my friends. Friends have my email address and phone number.

I realized that I don’t really miss knowing what a particular friend did at the party I didn’t go to. I don’t miss knowing which munch had problems, or which person caused the problem. I also don’t miss having to watch spider pictures appear on my wall from jackasses who think they’re pretty funny.

So what does all this mean? Damned if I really know. Right now I’m on a low point. I’ve removed the things that I don’t find fulfilling from my life. I’ve worked on making the few remaining things more important. I’m working on developing my closest friendships and sadly letting the others slide away to where they probably belonged in the first place. I’m working on things that make me happy, while removing the things that brought stress and anxiety to my life. I’ve decreased my online presence to the few places where I can actually have a conversation with my kinky pals about things other than kink, and I’ve recommitted myself to saying no to things that I’d ordinarily do just because they were there.

I figured out that being kinky was a lot of hard work but it was also a model that kept increasing my expectations about what being kinky was. I want to get back to where I was before. I liked it there and it was comfortable for me. Having a smaller view of the wide-kinky world, taking what worked for me and leaving the rest to others is just right for me.

I’m done with having my life lived in fifteen minute slices.