Everyone Has This Story, Mine Came in January of 2009

My partner and I had an unusual Christmas last year.  We decided not to exchange gifts so we could save up for a big trip on our anniversary, so, we just let the holiday slide by.  What made the occasion extra strange was that we waited until January to go through the stockings his parents made for us.

Our stuffed socks were hung in front of the fireplace for weeks after the 25h, and one fine January day, we finally took them down and opened our gifts.  Amongst packs of batteries, little bags of tea and little sundries for cooking [I guess I give off strong domestic vibes ], were these little guys:

My partner and I looked at each other and small smiles crept across our faces.  His parents knew that I was getting into baking at the time, but that night, we decided that we had enough tools for baking cupcakes.  These little guys were going to live in the drawer of the upstairs bedroom.

After our initial giggles, I started slapping the inside of my hand with the spatula portion.  It was light, but the stinging was comparable to my beloved maple paddle.  I turned to my partner: Alright. Let’s go.

Within moments he was over the back of the couch, pants down.  We started with the spatula, as it didn’t cut the air as smoothly on impact.  Landing, however, was spectacular.  I kept to strikes to that sweet seam, curious as to how many swats it would take until the ouch factor kicked in.  Strike number four got my partner to start kicking.  Strike 6, he was nearly over the couch!

Once he was back up, we went with the spoon next. Once again, minimal good swats and he was feeling it in under 10 strokes.  We found the perfect little tools- a great refresher for the shared drawer upstairs.

A few days later, while visiting his parents, I thanked his mother for the spoon and spatula.  She seemed delighted and emphasized that they were relatively unbreakable.  I squeezed my partner’s hand and gave a small smile.

Technical notes on the Ostrya virginana can be found here: http://www.hort.uconn.edu/plants/o/ostvir/ostvir1.html

The description of muscle-like bark is of note, as well as the fact that is is a slow-growing.  I like the idea of an implement birthed from a product that grows strong over time.

And in dreams begin…

Saw this article via the SF Gate last week:

As a bartender and trainer at a national restaurant chain, Rebecca Brown earned a couple thousand dollars in a really good week. Now, as a dancer at Chicago’s Pink Monkey gentleman’s club, she makes almost that much in one good night.

 

 

 

A little later that same day, I was in a taxi en route to a session.  The program the driver had on was holding the same topic, with a touch of shock factor.  It’s this apparently appalling movement: women are using their bodies to make ends meet.

I’m biased, I admit.  Every time I try to leave this behind, I remember that I’m good at this, and prefer to invest the energy in being a better practitioner of my craft.  Not only as a means of survival, but because I love it.  I have a choice- it’s not a return out of desperation.  After reading the SF article, I felt a touch optimistic.  Perhaps with an influx of women in other fields, the stigma would have a chance to be lifted and perhaps legal attitudes toward sex work could change for the better.

New York State has taken some interesting attitudes toward the industry. A few weeks ago, Brooklyn assemblyman Feliz Ortiz introduced a bill that would tax patrons of strip clubs $10 per visit.  Governor Patterson wants to go a bit further and tax New York residents for their porn.  Though the money would be distributed to very worthy causes, the tax is punitive.  This doesn’t encourage regulation of legitimate practices, just overlooking the needs of women and men who are practicing within the sphere of the law.

Perhaps in the wake of such adversity, we can take back the stigma from legitimate means of survival.  A tax may be the first step towards effective regulation, but the direction the state is moving in just doesn’t show it quite yet.

Prayer for the Return of the Faithful

My practice is built up around getting past shortcomings.  Improvement- forward thinking, not making the same mistake twice.  There’s an emphasis on personal responsibility, on following through with commitments. All these things that one does when they are responsible to themselves and responsible to others.

I utilize physical punishment as the wake up call, the path to coming to terms with some wrongdoing that one would be otherwise oblivious to.  It’s the slam in the face, the brick to the back of the head, to put it in more lay terms.

Sometimes the slams in the face are more positive.  One came in September of 2007, and was nearly a distant memory until I looked over some notes this morning.  In the face of my day job at the time, I pushed my commitment to my craft aside a bit.  Visiting Holly, amongst a few things that took place that week brought it back.  I didn’t let it sink in and apply this new information.

I had a more recent, less happy slam in the last few days, but one that’s brought a near lifetime of issues and shortcomings to life.

I’ve been extremely irresponsible for the last half year.  I didn’t want to admit to it, and I most certainly did not want to admit it to myself.  I really wanted to believe that I could work through everything on my own, and ended up just hurting people very, very close to me.

My direct punishment was swift.  While of course this was painful, the road to the most painful realizations, all the misbehaviour and all the selfishness and all the things I did to hurt people- all that is more painful than what I went through. If I didn’t have someone to bring me to it, I would never have seen the damage for myself.

As for the issue at hand, my atonement will be a lengthy process.  The more intimate points that need to be processed and worked through, will remain as such for the public.  I just wanted to extract that moment out of the process- that reminder that my actions and in-actions have consequences, whether the end result is physical, emotional, or social.

Please take this post as my apology to the rest of you.  I haven’t been committed, I’m ready to do so.  It won’t be perfect, but the attempts will be genuine.

There will be a lot of work ahead.