Memento Mori

My photo
Seattle, Washington, United States
Professional Darling

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Different Parts of the Same Bird






I'm sure that it isn't a surprise that when I'm not feeling well. When I'm sad or stressed or depressed or feeling a plethora of bipolar symptoms that I go and look at pictures of birds online.

The Blue Jay is a beautiful bird that we don't have here in the Western part of the U.S. We have Stellar's Jays here in the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately they aren't as magnificent to look at like the Blue Jays, but hey, I'll take what I can get.


What is it that makes me enjoy the Blue Jay more? Well I love the intricacies of his feathers. He has bars on his wings, a fantastic little crest and he's prettier. He's made up of so many different feathers. It's all of his little details that make him a whole bird that is different than his western counterpart Stellar.

We are all different parts of the same person and every part needs to be nurtured in order for the whole to grow.

Often times I can only see the whole part, the bigger picture in the birds. Other times, they form complicated thought patterns in my brain and I can't help but see the metaphor in my life spelled out on these beautiful feathered friends.

Monday, April 23, 2012

They call it darkness for a reason.
Deathly consuming.
It all swirls around and clouds my vision.
Black sandstorm to ease my troubled mind,
and razors edge to complete the time.
Cry for me,
and cry for those that tried.
Indifference to ease your piece of mind.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Elements of Vanilla and BDSM Sex in Opposite Lifestyles

 
If you've been living underneath a rock for the past 10 years or so, let me fill you in on a couple of things about me. I actively participate in the BDSM lifestyle and I am currently engaging in a semi-poly-full-time Master and slave relationship. I identify as a slave and masochist.

Last night I went and saw Titanic in IMAX 3-D. I have quite the thing for love stories and love on an epic and fantastical scale. I adore what love stands for in all of its many forms, so naturally having an opportunity to watch one of my comfort movies on the big screen, I jumped at the chance.  Anyways, I was enjoying the scene where Jack and Rose make love for the first time in the car down the cargo hold and it kinda hit me. Since "vanilla" people use elements of BDSM in their love lives to spice up the sex department do people that are into full time BDSM use elements of a completely "vanilla" sex as a variant to their somewhat extreme sex lives?

I've had some pretty intense scenes in my day and even now, but honestly, its not like just because I do like the extreme that I don't enjoy being held, caressed softly or believe it or not, taking the whole act of love slow. but I also wonder if I've pigeon-holed myself as a slave and as a masochist and therefore that is all that others see when they look at me? I wonder if anyone, even my Master can look at me and see someone that enjoys the more "plain-jane" and "vanilla" aspects of sexual relations?

I wonder if there is a threshold of just how much BDSM or how much "vanilla" we can take in our lives before we feel like we are stuck. So it just goes back to my initial question of, do full time BDSM relationships utilize completely vanilla techniques in an effort to change things up?

Would the sex scene in the car between Jack and Rose meant more if all Rose got on a daily basis were the face slappings and humiliation of Cal Hockley?  [for the purposes of this argument we are going to assume that Cal and Rose did have some sort of tenderness in their relationship.]



I suppose that if one is completely satisfied within the realm of their relationship then there wouldn't really be a need to explore the other end of the spectrum. I know that I am not satisfied with a purely vanilla sexual relationship but I also know that I cannot be fully satisfied with 100% BDSM aspects all the time. I mean, a slave needs sensual kissing and slow love-making every once in a while right?

I can't help but think that sometimes we categorize ourselves too much and end up missing out on other elements of intimacy because we become too comfortable in our stereotypes or we are afraid to speak up within our current roles. 

Regardless, like the rest of life, I believe that there is a balance that needs to be achieved and that the middle ground for that balance is different for all types of roles and relationships, but I still think that there is balance to be found somewhere.


Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Flow




Flow - transistor

i'm always swimming against the flow of the tide,

kissing the life into something that's already died.

i've been driving forever,
i'll let go.

i dive into the river,
and flow.

you said that you could hear bells in the traffic below,
i could hear sirens and car engines fighting the snow.

i've been driving forever,
i'll let go.

i dive into the river,
and flow.

flow.

i've been drowning forever,
i'll let go.

i'll dive into the river,
and flow.

i've been drowning forever,
i'll let go.

i'll dive into the river,
and flow.

flow


Sunday, April 8, 2012

Little Sister

 
Hey little sister I heard you went to Mr. So and So,
 knock knock knockin on his door again last night, 
said you needed it bad- you know that ain't right
 'Cause so many times you've come to me cry-crying trying to stop. 
you said it hurts so bad But please don't let you go back for more 
My little sister is a Zombie in a body with no soul in a role she has learned to play
 in a world today where nothing else matters but it matters, 
we gotta start feeding our souls
 Not our addiction or afflictions of pain 
to avoid the same questions we must ask ourselves to get any answers
 We gotta start feeding our souls have been lost to the millions 
with lots who feed on addiction selling pills and what's hot 
I wish I could save her from all their delusions 
all the confusion of of a nation that starves for salvation
 but clothing is the closest to approximation to God 
and He only knows that drugs are all we know of love
 Every day we starve while we eat white bread and beer instead of a handshake or hug 
We spill the pills and sweep them under the rug 
My little sister is a Zombie in a body 
with no soul in a role she has learned to play
 in a world today where nothing else matters but it matters,
 we gotta start feeding our souls 
Hey little sister I heard you went to Mr. So and So's 
Knock, knock, knockin' on his door again last night 
Said you needed more

Onward, Forever Onward.




An open letter to all those that care,

I'm going to be okay. Sometimes the nights seem so long and so lonely but I always wake up the next morning. Sometimes I'm no worse for wear, and other times well its hard to get out of bed. The beacon of hope and light that comes through the darkness are all of you that are reading this right now. The ones that care enough to check in on me and to wonder if I'm okay.

You're the woman next door that keeps her phone by the bed in case I need to call. --JLL

You're the man that I barely see that takes the time to talk to me through all the birthday madness. --AM

You're the girl that pours out her love through her eyes and rubs my back ever so lightly because it hurts so much. --SR-M

You're the man that barely knows me that texts me and tells me that he cares. --JH

You're the woman that holds me up when all I can see are the tears in my eyes. --AJJ

You're the man that will do anything, just to get me back into the world. --MNF

I sit here and I think of all of you that care so much and I think of all the harm I can cause, have caused. The hurt and the pain, the emotional disparity. I can also think of the love, hope and kind words that I am capable of and the drive to keep going. I can be the suicide letter you find at the bottom of the drawer that I forgot I put there because all I am now is happy.

I am the bruises you notice. I am the red underneath my eyes. I'm the girl that will make it out alive, even though all she wants to do is lay down and die.

I'm the trust I put in you, and the brain that tries to defeat it.

I'm self-destruction and I am self-preservation. I am the liar and the truth. The piece of sanity in this madness.


I've been sober for a day or so. The sickness washes over me and I'm kneeling over the kitchen sink staring at the breakfast I just ate and thinking about how much of a waste of money that was. :P My body tries desperately to purge the sickness out of me; foreign chemicals and resistance.  I am a huge decision in the making and a huge failure just waiting to happen. There are things that I do not wish to think about and I am the things that I am forcing myself to think about.

Norwescon was a bust. I failed miserably at something I was looking forward to, and I did some damage that I'm not sure I can repair. Even if it is fixable, I'm not sure that my willingness will be expected or trusted. I know what was said and all I can do is keep moving and to concentrate on me. Loving me, faults and all. Bipolar or not, this is me.

An overused quote: “I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”   ---Marilyn Monroe.

I'm sticking to that. When I'm on, I'm ON and when I'm off I'm OFF the FUCKING charts. You think its bad to deal with, try living it.

To all those that have offered their love and support without conditions or judgment...you are why I am still alive. You are the numbered reasons why I am sitting here listening to birds and I can feeling the spring sunshine on my scars. Healing may not be swift, but onward...forever onward.

Love,
- G.

Hopeless or Hopeful?





This photo was taken earlier this evening on my way out to see a friend for her birthday. I put on the wig because I didn't want to do my hair and it was a mess anyways. I like my pink wig. It wasn't until I got home and uploaded this picture that I saw what everyone else saw. I'm broken and vacant. The worst part is that in this picture I am wearing concealer underneath my eyes to try and hide the bags, but they are still plainly visible.

This is what an alcoholic looks like. This is what an addict looks like. This is what untreated bipolar looks like.

You can only hide and cover it all up for so long before it all becomes clear to everyone but you. I can try and fix this huge mess or I can lay down and die. Which one is worth fighting for?




Saturday, April 7, 2012

the toxicity of life.
the toxicity of me.

love like bitter wine.


Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Trying to run but her mind just stays...


I started running to get away from my mind. I used to run up and down Elliot Avenue when the sun had already dipped below the horizon and I could see the beginning of the night. I used to marvel at the colours as they washed into eachother like a watercolour painting. I compared myself to the cup of water the paint brush used to wash off the vibrant blues and purples. The reds and orange. All the life of the world. I was the muddy brown colour. A little bit of everything but not one of anything. My moods would swirl around like the water, a whirlpool of anger, melancholy, frustration and sadness. Everything was always mixed, most of the time it still is.
 
I would be out of breath in a matter of blocks, but it wasn't about how fast I could run it, just that I could. That I was capable and for that thirty odd minutes I could hear nothing else but my sneakers hitting the pavement and my breath being forced in and out of my smokers lungs. That my mind let go of how he hurt me, or the loneliness that was my constant companion. My mind would clear itself of the hurt and confusion; the constant bipolar madness and sadness. I would lose myself in the painting of the world and the sounds of twilight and night birds.
 
When my hip went out, I had to stop running and that was it, I was stuck inside my head once more. It feels like it has been stuck ever since. Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong. These days I find solace and comfort in different things but nothing will ever compare to the muddy brown water that helped wash everything away. The running away but at the same time running towards something that could one day be caught and held on to. I'm still running, just not in the way that I'm used to.
 
- G.
 
 
This Moist song has always been a favorite of mine and I daresay I am claiming it as my own. Take a moment and listen.

Tonight

she goes down like rain
she goes down the hard way
spilling herself on your body



i wonder where you are tonight



just outside the dark
she waits by the highway
hopin to go
but her mind just stays



i wonder where you are tonight


ease into you ease into me
fell from the places
left to believe
all from the time
and time is what for
edress the weight
and bury the world
time will save
you come what may


she goes down like rain
she goes down the hard way
trying ot run
but her mind just stays
i wonder where you are tonight





Monday, April 2, 2012

Another Untitled

Just an oversight
like a failed attempt
at a first kiss
or the way every time
something is right
another thing goes wrong.

It's the stress in my bones
and the ache in my heart
that feeds my mind
and speeds my mind
and god speed this death
of wasted and forgotten time.

Make the madness disappear
and take your cliches
and stuff them into the back of your head.
I'm sick of your words
as they stick to me.
I watch them fall as the summer
sweat drenches through my weakness
and I wave goodbye as I jump off this ledge.

Taken to the edge of my madness
to that forgotten time when
these emotions were futile
and refused to mean a thing.