Connectivity

A play partner I sometimes visit once made a comment while I was in the car with him: “What would you do without your cell phone?” implying that I couldn’t live without being connected.  At the time I was answering a text from my SO.  It wasn’t like I was on the phone continually while I was there.  In fact out of courtesy I hadn’t called my SO at all during the trip, and had limited my contact with him, my OSO and children to brief emails or text messages during the four days I was visiting.  I had even told the others (in particular my then-gf) with whom I usually communicated daily, that I would be unavailable during that time.  Still, his comment stung—was I “too connected”? Obviously he thought so (which kind of put my back up, since I DO have two serious partners with whom I had deliberately curtailed my communications in deference to spending my time with him.)

Since that time I have thought about this question, as it has also come up with W and the fact that I frequently bitch lament about the fact that he will not text and doesn’t see the value in it.

I am very connected. I recognize this. Text, email, Twitter, blogging, IM, Fetlife updating. I read work and personal email on my cellphone, I can tweet from there if I choose, I obviously text and can IM from there as well.  I am seldom farther than my cellphone from multiple sources of communication.  And I like it. I choose to be connected like this.  I am not talking about emailing while I am out at dinner with friends, or stopping in the middle of fucking to send a “oh wow I am fucking the hottest guy!’ tweet, or IMing during dinner with the fam; I monitor when and where I respond, and I do happen to use good sense, am polite and sensitive to common courtesies.

But when the hell did it become a bad thing to be connected?  What’s wrong with it? Why has it become something that people sneer at? I like emailing W throughout the day, I like chatting off and on with my various friends & lovers, I enjoy texting with my daughter & Ad, I like following online friends via their blogs and Twitter.  I can be disconnected from people when I choose to be, I go places and deliberately turn off the technology, but I’ll be honest, most times I don’t want to be disconnected.  And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.

I’ll admit that I’m thinking about it here and now because I am sitting here in a 4-day long 8-hrs per day meeting while W waits at the hotel.  He doesn’t have a computer with him because he doesn’t have a laptop, and so I have no ability to enjoy our usual daily back-and-forth emails, and while I am not missing that too much yet, I can guarantee that by EOD tomorrow, and even more so by Wednesday or Thursday, I am really going to be missing it. My solution would be to be able to text him occasionally throughout the day, like I do Ad, but I can’t do that either. So…I am a little pissy about the fact that he sees no value in it.

Yeah, yeah, I know I am being a baby about the texting, and that’s just me being whiny because I’m sitting here having to listen to someone drone on and on about database clean-up when I’d rather be texting W about the one cute in my group and how I’d like to proposition him, ask him if he’s ever seen a girl with steel rings in her cunt…knowing that it’d be as fun for W to hear about all that as it would be for me to share it with him. But okay, I get it that that may not be a valid reason to have texting.  lol

Still, although I am being facetious about that part of it, I do think there is a larger issue, a larger question.  When did it become a bad thing to want to be connected, and why is it a bad thing?

Accepted!

I just got my second short erotica story from my fall submissions accepted!  Of course we have to wait and see if it actually makes it in the book (publisher has the final say, sometimes stories get cut for length, etc.) but just having this editor accept my story is wonderful.  I had been waiting on pins & needles for weeks…so nice to have the wait be over with a “You’re accepted!” as the end result.  Keep your fingers crossed that I’ll be in print in TWO anthologies this year!

There really is more going on in my life than these three rows of steel rings I have installed in my cunt. Honestly though, right now, I don’t know what.

Oh wait, I lied.

VEGAS!!!

That’s what’s going on.  Or will be.  Can you believe I leave for a week in (sort of) Vegas in…(counting)…3 days??? (I don’t count today or the day we leave, which is Sunday.)  I say “sort of” Vegas, because I am actually going to Henderson, NV for the training, and then we are relocating after the training is over to Mt. Charleston Lodge.  So, Vegas and not-Vegas.  Also, honestly I don’t know that we’ll be doing Vegas-y stuff.  What I really want to do is go out to Death Valley, and maybe Hoover Dam, and possibly Valley of Fire State Park.

Either that or spend three days tied up in our cabin, submitting myself to the tender ministrations of W. And crocheting. And playing Scrabble.  Though those things are difficult to do while tied.  Not impossible–I crocheted a bit the day that DrF left me handcuffed with W while he (DrF) went out and did sightseeing.  It wasn’t optimum for getting a lot of crocheting done, but it WAS fun.

I have a dilemma though! We might actually go to a show or get out in Vegas (I kinda want to go up the Stratosphere, and the Eiffel Tower, and go on the roller coaster at NYNY, and see the fountains at the Bellagio…) but I have no idea what to bring to WEAR. I have tons of slut clothes. And lots of work/business casual clothes. And jeans and “dress down” clothes, and of course lots and lots of fetishwear. But nothing…nightcluby, I don’t think. Most of my “nightclub” type clothing would be stuff I’d be wearing to a fetish event, so…probably not appropriate.  What to do, what to do?  I guess I’d better figure it out quick, though, because Vegas, here we come!

Can I stand and type?

I don’t know whether to do an “update” or a “topic” post.  The update would probably be along the lines of: “I am miserable at the moment, but it took me until 2:30 to get here, as opposed to the 10am time by which I was miserable yesterday.  So things are looking up.”  No, that’s not all I have to update on, but it’s the most I can manage at the moment, with this discomfort distracting me.

Oh for the “donut” Ad suggested I take to work to sit on.  Yes, it would be embarrassing, but I am willing to suffer that as opposed to this.

I do have “real” topics to write about, but I just can’t manage to think straight enough to write them out.  Still, a quick list:

• a wonderful question brought up by Flavius Iulianus about relationship dynamics, what with my submission to W’s desires and Ad’s role as “primary” in my life;
• musings about how I feel about kink being “accepted” or not by society, and how that affects (or not) how I feel about it, as opposed to how I feel about poly being accepted, after reading a very good post on the subject by one of my favorite kinky bloggers, Kami
• thoughts on honesty in relationship, and where it has brought me in one particular relationship
• thoughts on choosing partners

Gah.  The most I can do right now is this. Oh well.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to do more.

Two Guys, a Girl & a Piercer

Did it. I am a multiply-pierced Jade.  And a very sore one. Rermind me next I decide to get 4 steel rings installed in my pussy to do it during our winter break, okay?

But it’s done, dammit.

I took both of The Boys with me this time. Figured since it’s for W’s benefit too, he’d get to be a part of it. I don’t think he watched as avidly as Ad did though. Interesting the things that people enjoy…after the second one he was making idle chit-chat with the piercer.

“I really like watching how the needle slides through her skin and out the other side,” he said.

“Couldja maybe wait for the commentary on the needles until it’s over?” I asked, on my back, legs spread, waiting for two more holes to be punched in me. I was only partially kidding. While it wasn’t as painful as I was remembering it, I still didn’t want a ply-by-play while I was in the midst of it.

Later, C, the piercer says, “Okay, you really should treat these gently for a couple of days.” She cocks a look at W and then at Ad. “Which means you should go home with whichever one of these guys has the most restraint.”  We all pointed to Ad.  I loved it that she didn’t blink an eye at our relationship, and yanno, it is lovely to be open in a relatively “vanilla” place. Holding hands with them both, leaning against W as Ad rubbed my back, just being us.

I am pretty miserable today though.  Very, very sore, and just wanting a place to lay down, where I am not ON my rings.  I anticipate a salt bath, some dinner made by Ad, maybe a strong, sweet drink and my heated blankie tonight. I’m not even going to worry if I get anything else done, because seriously? The world can wait till my pussy doesn’t hurt anymore.  Right?

Home, James.

Ring Envy

I don’t like to rattle the vanilla’s usually, but…every once in awhile, it’s kind of fun. Not that I do it or did it on purpose or anything…but I’m not immune to a lil chuckle when it happens accidentally.

Went to the Y this AM. I am used to the occasional glance at my tiger’s eye hood ring as I disrobe or step out of the shower.  It kind of sticks out there, and if someone looks, they’re going to see it. (shrug) I forgot about my new jewelry, though. They nestle against my lips anyway, so they aren’t that blatant. This morning, when I came out of the shower room, I saw that the row where my locker was is apparently the “Ladies Who Swim’s” row. There they all were, 5 or 6 elderly and not-so-elderly women, drying off after the early morning aquarobics class.  They smile and I smile back and then I start to dry off.  I catch them giving me the surreptitious looks we women give each other in the locker room (deny it if you will, but we all do it!) Plus, with my tattoos I sometimes get more looks than I might otherwise.

So I am busily drying off, and I raise one leg to the bench to get at my “nether bits” without thinking. I hear an audible gasp and the ladies in the row fall silent, and I glance up to see three old ladies staring, wide-eyed, at my crotch. I follow their eyes down to see my rings hanging there so beautifully–and obviously–my tiger’s eye at the apex, jutting out above them proudly.  I forget sometimes how “not normal” genital piercings seem to the rest of the world.

Gee, I wonder what reaction I will get when I have 3 on each side.

Had a good night with Ad last night. Originally plans had been quite different, but Ad communicated to me that he was feeling a bit neglected, so I changed plans and made sure he knows just how much I love and appreciate him.  I think he is feeling super appreciated today.  And I am feeling pretty loved on myself.  Damn he’s good with his mouth!

Tonight W and I have a “date” with a BDSM/swinger couple. I say “date” kiddingly, but it actually feels kind of like that. They–or at least she–wants to play with others, and is very girl-positive.  I am not sure what his goal is. I made out and played with her a bit at a party recently, and we have been chatting/flirting ever since. But I haven’t been able to get to know him much, as he is either shy or just kind of reticent in conversation. So we’ll see tonight. Dinner and drinks, then maybe back to W’s. Well, I am definitely going back to W’s, whether or not they do remains to be seen.

I have homework and an Eden Cafe article to write this weekend, plus two story submissions to consider. I’m not sure either of them will work for me, but I’d really like to get something in front of this one editor, so we’ll see what I can come up with.

The Wonderful Thing About Jades Is…

W has never seen “The Wonderful Things About Tiggers,” so I sent him a link to it this morning.  I feel like Tigger today: “bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce!”  It’s nice to be feeling my groove again. :-)

I have lots of decisions to make today!

Well, two:

1. Withdraw from my Tuesday night class and take a different one in the summer?

2. Go on a date tomorrow night?

Okay, maybe three:

3. Be honest or just go with the flow?

I know, that last is a bit cryptic.  I always say (and almost always live by) “honesty first.”  But…damn…it’s such a drag sometimes when what is honest is something you know that other person isn’t going to like. I hate hate hate to make others unhappy with me. But…if I am not honest, then I am choosing to place myself in a position that is likely to cause me discomfort and disappointment at the least, heartache at the worst.  And what have I been going on about all week? Making good relationship choices.

I know the right thing to do.  It’s just not the easy thing. I just wanna be like Tigger today, and bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce!

Disappointment

I usually roll with changes pretty easily, but I was sorely disappointed that I didn’t get done what I had planned last night.

No new piercings for Jade.

It was a matter of timing gone wrong. I told my piercer I’d be there around 6:30, we arrived after 7pm; she had no one there at 6:30, by 7pm she had three others ahead of me.  So…I wait til Sunday or Monday. It really threw me off my game last night though. Even wearing only heels, a hoodie and my house chain later at W’s didn’t lift my spirits. Even yummy sex and W’s dirty words in my ear (and sweet words, too: “pretty girl/dirty girl” going round and round) were barely enough to rouse me from my melancholy.

I’m not sure why it tweaked me so much. I’d been vacillating all along about doing it at all, putting myself through the misery of healing, changing the way it looks down there when I already really like what I have, wondering if 3 sets of rings will lay right or be uncomfortable when I run and walk and sit and fuck.  Well, the fucking part I know I will like–that is one of the big pluses of doing it, and one of the reasons why I am doing it. After they heal (and a little bit during the healing process) I really love the way they feels to press on them and pull on them.  So that’s a big deal. But it’s not like I would have gotten to “use” them anyway last night. I guess I had just worked myself into deciding I was going to do it.

I’m tired and blah today. Doing Vegas planning, hoping that will perk me up, and I did, in fact, just change our flight time to much later leaving out of Vegas on Saturday–gives us almost a whole day more to do stuff, if we so desire!  Now maybe I should start looking at actual drive-times from the place where we are staying to the things we want to do and back to the Vegas airport, see what we can actually manage for that new free time we have. (I wonder if W knows what he’s got himself into, traveling with me?  The planning & research is at least half the fun for me–I hope I don’t make him sick of me before we actually get there!)

I have class tonight, but am unenthusiastic about it. Even though the class did engender a lot of discussion between The Boys and I, I am a little disappointed that the “issue” for my “Solving World Issues Using Psychological Strategies” is climate change. I know, I know, I should be all gung-ho about it–and it certainly isn’t that I don’t believe it is a catastrophic and very real issue–but, I was hoping for something more…people-oriented. I don’t know. The teacher is excellent though, and I like her teaching style and methods, so maybe it will turn out all right.

Shit, I just realized, my blah-ness and down-ness may be due to drop from Saturday night. Now THAT makes sense. Duh.  Looks like a little “self-care” is in order. Hard to do when I will be working and schooling until 10pm though. (sigh)

Once again, with discipline

W tells me I am one of the most self-disciplined people he knows. I feel like I am the least disciplined. I miss deadlines. I start and quit things all the time. I forget important dates and have to write lists just to remember to get my kids where they need to go when they need to be there–and still sometimes forget. I even keep lists of the people I am currently involved with, on whatever level (email, chat, 2nd date, fucking, want-to-fuck, W-wants-me-to-fuck?) so I don’t lose track.  I do go through high energy/activity periods, and I do have a high “intellectual metabolism,” which is a nice way of saying I have lots and lots of interests, which is also a nice way of saying I get both distracted & engrossed in new things–hobbies, thoughts, activities–easily.

Just as easily, though, I let myself get overwhelmed.  And then, when that happens, I shut down. I ignore everything in my mental to-do list, refuse to look at my written to-do list, and basically curl up in a mental ball and refuse to engage at all.

I’d like to find a happy medium. But that involves self-discipline. That involves making a priority list–and sticking to it.  When I do, I find that I accomplish an awful lot, and I feel powerful in my little world, in control. This weekend I almost achieved that lovely nirvana.  I actually accomplished a lot (paid bills, worked on a new PoJ header, did laundry, got clothes ready for this week, did homework reading, helped the GirlChild apply for financial aid for school, finished a blog post, took care of some email, got some crocheting done, finished a website for work), but there were so many things that didn’t get done.  A list would have helped.

Or maybe not.  Sometimes, I just don’t have the self-discipline to do the things on my list.  There are things that are important to me that aren’t getting done.  And dammit, I want to do them all!

How does one learn self-discipline?

The Boys, Me & Keith Urban

I have been productive this weekend.  And kinky. Kinkily productive too. (Is that a word?)  Had an amazingly fun night last night with The Boys.  We got back from dinner at our favorite Mexican place, me a little tequila’d up (ok maybe a lot), enough to bring out Sassy Jade.  I had on boots and jeans, which I promptly stripped out of to show off the new brown lace panties and bra set I had on, then put the boots back on, because they matched. Then I pranced around, showing off, being a flirt and a tease.

I guess my boots inspired some Wild West thoughts, because the guys took me upstairs and soon had me rigged me out like a pony, hobble-chains around my booted ankles, hands chained behind my back and a bit gag in my mouth, to which Ad attached two long, thick, heavy leather reins.   And then they proceeded to try and tame the SassyJade pony. Hah!  This pony will not be broke!  But hell, they sure tried.  They whupped the heck out of me, when they weren’t trying to wrestle me to the floor, or wrestle me on the floor…I was a wild-ass pony, bucking and fighting.  It was crazy.  (And fun.  Did I mention fun?)  I have sore spots all over, from the leather reins Ad used to whip me as well as haul me around as I ran and danced around him, and from body parts that connected with the chains and the floor and various body parts on either guy.

Keith Urban is now officially scene-music.

But it wasn’t over yet.  After I managed to free myself and they gave the pony a rest break, they rigged me up so that I couldn’t move in the middle of the room with rope and chain (huh, think I wore them out, that they didn’t want to have to chase me around anymore?) They then proceeded to cane me, both at once, in time to the music. I wish I could figure out which playlist I had my iPod on so I could remove the damn six-and-a-half-minute song right in the middle. “Isn’t that fucking song over yet?” I think was the last totally coherent thought I had before I sort of fuzzed out, sensory overload, and just floated, hanging in the rope and chain.  Next thing I knew, I was on the hardwood floor, W on one side, Ad on the other, holding me as I came back to earth, no recollection of having gotten there.  Fucking heaven.

Between last night, the day and night I spent with W  Thurs/Fri and the…was it Monday?…scene I had with W, I am flying high.

And now I am sitting here eating leftover Mexican food and basking in the tired, sore, fuzzy glory of my life.  Can it get any better than this?