Self determination means?...

I recently read a follow up article about what it means to be a social worker. 

The original can be found here and the article that this blog post is based on can be read in full here. 

So, one of the concepts in the article sparked something in me. When talking about the things it means to be in the social work profession, the author stated that "it means bearing constant witness to the self-determination of others, even when the others are self-determined to self-destruct," and that "at least these individuals get to self-destruct with the dignity of choice and with the knowledge that their social worker honored that choice, if nothing else.”

This got me thinking. I like to believe that I respect everyone’s right to self-determination. Absolutely. In theory. The thing is, remembering that it's important when faced with the consequences of the decisions that people make; when faced with the suffering and pain and loss that can come from the right of an individual to choose… That’s hard. 

I think sometimes I judge more than I would like, the actions of others as ‘good’ or ‘bad’, in that automatic, subconscious space that we reserve for first impressions or susceptibility to advertising. When I hear from others day after day their judgments about the actions of these people, that starts to seep in and I start to empathise only with the visibly wronged.

In my job, the abusers become the villains, unless they have obvious trauma or extenuating circumstances of their own, which seem to give a subconscious 'free pass' because we justify why it wasn't their fault through those checkboxes. "Oh, they had a bad childhood. They don't know any better. Someone else got them addicted to heroin." The conversations in my workplace promote the way of thinking that says villains exist and should be punished; too often I've heard other social workers, their voices thick with disgust, say things like "that bastard deserves everything he has coming to him."

… But I know, from training and from lived experience, what a privileged position it is to take, to decide what trauma is valid based on how visible it is and where it falls in my moral spectrum. 

Everyone has trauma of some magnitude and description, and the people who abuse others, who inflict pain and suffering and rage at the world... are often the people who have been hurt the most. 

They are the people who haven’t been shown love and compassion and kindness and patience. 

The people who had their choices restricted, confiscated by the power of drugs and alcohol and violence. 

The choices of people who hit children, or smoke dangerous drugs while pregnant or who hospitalise their wives or stab dairy owners… These are the choices of people who have been rejected, over and over again by society, by family, by themselves. 

There is no hope for them, or so they believe; no visible path forward, no better or other way of doing. Often they are modelling the hurt that’s been inflicted upon them, or else making decisions based on a broken algorithm where information has been left out through no fault of their own. Perhaps this lack of information, of passing on socially acceptable values and ways of living that promote growth instead of destruction, is through no fault of their parents or whanau. 

Perhaps it was never shown to them, either, and the choices that you are witnessing these people make is an inter-generational pattern determined to repeat over and over again despite the best efforts of well meaning people. 

There is comfort in familiarity, even when what is familiar is pain and anger and desperation to escape. Change is one of the hardest things to do as a human being, even when we want to- most of us aren't wired to change easily. 

The conclusion I reach when I stop to think about these things is that I really don't have the right to judge, and nor is it helpful for either party.  I can certainly disagree with their decisions, and often so does the law- but I want to be the one person in their lives that has carefully safeguarded their right to choose. 

I want to be the person that listens to the pain and damage these decisions are signalling, and opens my heart, even while it hurts because I know that doing so might not change anything. 

NB: In writing this, I must make clear that I do not encourage or excuse the actions of people that harm others. I simply feel that judgment is not helpful in working alongside these people, and that change can only occur when compassion and hope are present. 

Reader Questions

Today's question from a reader was "What are your kinks?"

To differ this post slightly from the previous one, in which I believe I elaborated clearly what it is about being dominant and submissive that arouses me, I will attempt to list my major fetishes/ kinks and then awkwardly fumble through why they interest me.

Dollification.

Dollification is one of those semi-niche fetishes. I didn't learn about it until I had been involved in the erotic hypnosis scene for at least a year. (Erotic hypnosis is one of my big fetishes, Basically, it's about becoming or being a living doll. A lot of people are into being rubber dolls or china dolls or latex dolls- me, I'm a porcelain doll. I like the matte look, what can I say?

Dollification is different for everyone, obviously, but the reason I love it is because it takes a whole bunch of the activities and feelings I love in BDSM and combines them in one nifty package. Objectification- check. Bondage- check. Hypnosis- check. Dressing up and playing with makeup- check.
Honestly, the hours I spend laying on the bed, immobile, beautifully made up with my pussy being pounded like I'm simply a new toy from the store that's having a test run, are some of the most tranquil and erotic hours I've spent in a bed.

My thought processes (if I have any) are all on such a basic level. 'Mmm, cock. So good. Good doll. Need to be used. Owned by Master. Good cock, yes fuck doll.' is pretty much the level of coherence you'd find if you took a peek inside my head while I was being fucked in that context.
I like to be admired, to be played with, to be posed and touched and arranged and opened like a treasured thing. To be shared, useful, malleable. This is what being a doll means to me.

Roleplaying.

Roleplaying is both an old and a new love of mine. I have always roleplayed in the bedroom on occasion, but since meeting my current partner, it's become a major sexual focus for me. I love to create new scenarios, characters, weave a story together that takes me out of myself and places me into pure fantasy. We actually have a list of things we've done and things we want to try, it's that big a deal.

Roleplaying was how I came to have a fetish for something completely fictional. Be gentle with me, folks; even I don't understand how it works!
So... I have a fetish for Adeptus Astartes, which are fictional characters also known as Space Marines in the Warhammer 40k universe. Whew. That took quite a lot of effort to put down.
They're deliciously large, hulking brutes of men (that's a contested term, but we'll go with it for now) that wear armor and are very smart, perceptive and have muscles like tree trunks. Om nom nom nom.

Anyway, before I stray too much off topic, I'm trying to say that I like roleplaying. A lot. It gives us room to play as adults, to imagine possibilities and fulfil fantasies otherwise unreachable. It deepens our relationship by creating outlets for needs we might not have known we had before we put ourselves in the mindset of a completely different being. It's also really geeky. ^_^


Consensual Non Consent. (Caution- May trigger some people, skip to next bold title if so.)

Here's one that's been a constant through my entire sexual journey. The idea of consenting to not giving consent may be an odd one, but it works for me. Just knowing that within a certain context I can let go, give my power to someone else and be taken and used for their amusement... Incredibly arousing.

What's also arousing is being shoved to my knees to perform oral sex while I'm in the middle of doing a household task, regardless of whether or not I wanted to.
Being thrown onto the bed, or fingered in public, or fucked by someone that my partner has vetted and brought home to use me with. Having a hand squeezing around my throat, a palm slapping my face if I try to call for help... All of the consequences for not 'playing along' building in severity until I'm quivering from head to toe...

Being chased down and captured while I fight tooth and nail to keep my clothes on, knowing that he's bigger and stronger and faster than I am, so he's going to get his way anyway. Struggling until I'm sweaty and messy and tired and scratched up, tears streaming down my cheeks as I beg for mercy, but my pussy is leaking and he's grinding my face into the dirt while he thrusts so deep into me it hurts... And I realise that I'm cumming with every thrust of his cock.

The thrill of saying 'no' but meaning yes, of being forced to receive pleasure, to be full of someone, controlled by someone, in the most private and intimate way possible when and where they like, regardless of your mood or headache or errands... That, to me, is sexy.

Sadomasochism.

Pain is just a part of my psyche. At least, that's the conclusion I've come to after thinking about my relationship with pain. Now, I still adhere to the 'there's good pain, and there's bad pain' school of thought. I mean, having a broken leg isn't likely to have me moaning with pleasure.
Intentional pain, though... That's the key. Some part of my brain likes to take the feelings surrounding the pain- the surprise, the anticipation, the suffering, the vulnerability- and stream them into a sort of cathartic process that moves from release to arousal to orgasm. Inflicting pain on me is one of the quickest and easiest ways to get me into subspace, along with bondage and multiple forced orgasms.

On the flip side of the coin, I love to inflict pain. I love the look on the face of the recipient as they take yet another lash for you. I love the noises they make, squeals of fear or surprise, moans of arousal and semi-coherent babblings of obedience, pleas for mercy, occasional thank-yous.

I suppose the power dynamic of being the sadist in an S/m relationship fits with me in the same way as being dominant does (refer back to Day One.)
I can't really explain very well what it is that happens in my mind when I'm doing a scene with someone... It's like a switch gets flipped in my brain, and suddenly I realise that they're taking this pain for me and that I'm the one making their skin mark up like that, making them suffer so beautifully as their buttocks tremble and precious tears start to roll down their cheeks. With every hit of the crop, my pussy becomes wetter, swollen with lust. My heart swells with pride at how well they're taking it, so brave with every hit, so disciplined to stand there and allow me to do this to them.
My inner sadist rubs her hands together gleefully with every moan and wriggle, every drop of arousal dripping down thighs, because it's all part of the torture. Just suffer a little more for me, sweetling, and it will give you pleasure beyond anything you imagined possible. Honestly, it feels a little like making a deal with the devil.

So. There you have it. My main fetishes/ kinks. There are *many* others, some of which fall under these umbrellas, some of which don't. I'm still exploring, still finding things I like and dislike, and I expect that it will be some years still before I have an accurate picture of the extent and diversity of my fetishes.

Thirty Days of Kink Bandwagon and how I'm going to subject you, my dear readers, to it.

Well. It seems there's a new trend- Thirty days of... Everything. This particular version caught my eye, as kink is near and dear to my cold blooded dinosaur heart.
I will attempt to find the discipline to answer these questions as thoughtfully and honestly as possible- for your entertainment, of course.

So, Day One. "YOU…
Dominant, submissive or switch? List the parts of BDSM that get your juices flowing, what interests you the most? Basically define your kinky nature."

Ha! Isn't that a question? Well, firstly I'd have to say that I have so many labels that I probably look like a pilot's cabin baggage.
I'll try and single them out, look at each one a little more in depth. Basically- I'm a switch.

Dominant: Yes, I am. When and where and with whom I feel like, which seems to me an entirely dominant approach to take :P
It's a little complicated for me, though. I struggled a lot when I was younger, realising that I had dominant moments but not knowing what to do with them. There are a lot of stereotypes and unhealthy, judgemental attitudes about how dominants should be and act out there. I battled with all of them, because I was
- a female
- very young
- also submissive/ a masochist
- happy to be called a switch (which in some people's opinion is just being inconveniently indecisive!)
- wasn't automatically dominant with people that were obviously angling to be submissive to me.

See, the thing is, I'm pretty secure in my insecurity now. I don't need to prove that I'm dominant to anyone. Not even my submissive/s. I mean, they're making me dominant by default in their playing of the power exchange! If they didn't think I was their kind of domme, they wouldn't submit to me.
It's still a challenge sometimes, though.  There are all sorts of feelings around 'Should I have a more even balance of dominant/ submissive feelings?' and 'Why does it seem so rare that I feel that dominant connection with someone?'. The one question that really drives me crazy is why does that dominant connection happen? What special quality is it that snaps on the Mistress in me? I've been trying to observe the people it happens with- seeing if there are any common factors, or anything they do or don't do that other submissives might.
I'm still searching for that answer, but honestly I think it's kind of fun not to know sometimes. I mean, it certainly makes the connection spontaneous!

What it is about being dominant that gets my juices flowing? There's an easy question to answer!
It's about the trust that is handed to you by a person that's trusting you with their wellbeing, their emotional safety, their body and their private fantasies.

It's about the power, and the delicious satisfaction of knowing that you have complete control of another person. It's the look in their eyes that says 'thank you for helping me fill my needs', and the discipline of their mind as they take the pain, the challenge, the instruction for you even though it might be difficult or they may not want to.

For me, dominance is about showing people that they are cared about, connected to and loved in a completely different way. When I hit you, I mean 'thank you for trusting me.'
When I slap your face and tell you that you're an eager little slut, what I'm really saying is 'You're beautiful, and I'm so attracted to you and I love that you're so aroused for me.'
When I ask something of you and you tremble and bite your lip but you do it anyway, I feel cherished and adored because I see the preciousness of your obedience.
When I hypnotise you and make you orgasm without laying a single finger on you, your body is telling me that I'm all you're focussed on in that moment in time.

And, at the end of our scene, or our play, or our day, when I'm holding you and stroking your hair and you're covered in welts, bruises, sweat, cum, oil and you're glowing and exhausted and have let go of everything except belonging to me... I think about how much I care for you, and how guiding you to release your emotions, your frustrations like that is so freeing for both of us.

Submissive- Another label I indetify with. I have known that I was submissive since early on in my sexual explorations. The exquisite ability to just melt into someone elses' control is an indescribable joy for me.
I'm going to cut/paste shamelessly from another piece of writing I have on a profile of mine in the dirty reaches of the internet:

"I love to be degraded and used as a slut to fuck, a hole to fill, an object for someone elses' satisfaction.
I love to be taken from being pristine, kempt, poised and eloquent to ravaged, sweaty, messy and moaning incoherently.
I love that feeling of mindless worship that snakes into my brain and focusses me on just being a perfect channel for the dominant energy of my partner.
I love to be made to expose myself, to show off my body, my arousal, my insecurities.
I love to be dominated by intelligent men and women- people that understand that I am a complex human being with thoughts and feelings and opinions... And that none of that matters for even a second because, ultimately, when I'm kneeling at their feet with my eyes downcast and my pussy/ass/throat exposed to them I'm just there to be used, my intelligence being overcome and subsumed by their wilful desire.
Most of all, I love it when what I need and want and love aren't a consideration. (Within the bounds of prior agreement, just to clarify.)"

I love the juxtaposition, I think- such an intelligent and in control woman to an objectified controlled plaything.

I feel that this set of questions is slightly narrow in it's definitions, as I also identify as a sadomasochist, a doll (which I see as less of a submissive and more of a possession or object,) and a little- all of which I see as being 'kinky' identities that don't fit under the Dom/sub/switch umbrella.

So, that's Day One. I hope that you enjoyed the insight, please feel free to comment or question as you wish.
Awkward Dinosaur out! *chuurk*

Kink and You: A Young Person's Guide to Debauchery.

So, you want to play, huh? Good on ya, kid. I won't judge.
It'd be kind of hypocritical of me, seeing as I've been involved in the Kink community since I was 18.
I've made a few mistakes, missed the consequences of a few said mistakes, and paid for others. Now, I'm going to share my observations with you, dear reader, in the hopes that you will at least be aware of the naughty, naughty things you're doing to yourself.

First point, and the topic that all of the 'experienced' people bang on about- Safety.
It's actually important!
As someone interested in becoming involved in a high risk/ high trust hobby/lifestyle/interest, there are a few things you should stop to think about... Or at least pause on the way to your next play event.

Safewords are necessary. They don't have to be boring, if you're too much of an anarchist against the traditional 'Red'. Use whatever makes you feel comfortable* as long as you'll remember it in the middle of getting your first enema. *(You may have to use the traffic light system at certain venues or events, as a safety rule. Don't know what the traffic light system or a safeword is? Look here. )

Some other food for thought for your hungry brains: who else knows where you are?
Going to someone's house for a play date or meeting up at a private event is the same as getting into a stranger's car, or walking through a popular park late at night. Set up a safe call with a friend; get them to be around so you can call them at a certain time, and then get them to call you at a certain time a couple hours later. Txt them when you're safe home. It might sound inconvenient, but your life is worth it, right?
Any kinkster worth their salt will be completely fine with you making these arrangements; the better ones will laud it!

Next point: Communication.
You have the right to communicate your wants and needs. People aren't often aware of this, especially those in a submissive role. Your fantasies play a part in this game. If you don't have any yet, go watch porn, read books, talk to people, go to a local munch or kink event, join Fetlife. Discovering your sexuality is an exciting thing and I guarantee you that no matter how 'out there' you think your desire or fetish is, there are other people passionate about it too.
If you're playing with someone (or in a committed D/s relationship etc) with someone that isn't okay with you voicing your needs (and being told to 'shut the fuck up and get on all fours because you're not worth listening to' isn't one of your kinks,) then you need to be examining if that relationship is safe for you.
Everyone, even the most submissive of all slaves, deserves to be heard, to be treated with respect and to have limits and desires. (In some relationships, these desires and limits are decided by the person on top of the power dynamic, but even then it should always be after a negotiated discussion with the submissive partner.)

Now, I hate to sound like an old nana here, but make sure you mind your manners! Respect and basic courtesy are just nice to use anywhere, with anyone, let alone in a situation where you're exposing an intimate part of your personality to someone. Remember that play is consensual, and the other person chose to gift you with their trust, so a thank you now and then is nice.
Learn the expectations for events and clubs that you go to- it usually isn't difficult at all to find out what they are. Try asking the organisers, the owners, or even some of the other patrons. As a general rule, don't interrupt a scene that someone else is doing, make sure that you negotiate consent before playing with someone and try not to judge others negatively. There's a saying for that:
 "Your kink is not my kink, and that's okay."

Speaking of, I must reinforce that it is okay for you to not want to do what someone else is doing.
You're entering a wide, fantastical world of rubber suits, polyamorous relationships, pony play, fire cupping, kidnap scenes, adult babies, sexual objectification... The list goes on but don't let it intimidate you.
What you're okay with is what you're okay with, and there's nothing wrong with having a small and select arena of likes.

Don't let people tell you that you're too 'vanilla' or try and pressure you into 'just trying' play piercing or rope suspension. If you're not sure, just say you'd like to think about it, or that you don't want to. I've found that I often need to give myself time to observe, to learn, to question my feelings on certain kinks and activities before beginning to experiment with them.

It's also not a big deal to have a list of interests that fills a few pages. I have to trim the 'public list' down now and then so it doesn't get too unwieldy. Some people have one love, one passion that they focus all of their energy into and others have many special things that they do, some with different people or groups, some on their own, some in their fantasies. There is no hard and fast rule.

Hmm, let's see... What other gems of wisdom can I find for you young whippersnappers?
Ah, yes. Do what I just did and ask a question!
"How do you stop the ropes from digging into her ribcage?" "Why is that man wearing a dress?" "What is this odd metal disc for?" "What's the difference between a Pro Domme and a Fem Domme?"
There are millions of questions in a world as diverse and specialised as this, and most people love to talk about the things they love.

Now, here are a few notes that may be a little contentious, and are aimed specifically at you youngsters: If you are a young lady getting into kink, be aware that there is often a tendency to 'meat market'. Men, women, particularly older men in my observation, have a tendency to try their luck with the pretty young ladies. Who can blame them? ;) Most of them do it respectfully, but it's worth asking around about if there's anyone (non gender specific) that you should watch out for or be especially aware of.
Make sure you confirm your sources from a few different people though, and only use this as a guideline- gossip and rumour are as rife in the kink scene as they are anywhere else.
Your intuition makes the best guide.

If you're a little nervous about the idea of being fresh meat, try going to a TNG  munch (especially for newbies) like this one, or look around in some of the online groups to make friends that can back you up when you go to general events.

For the young gentlemen interested in being Dominants: The only way to get good at something is to practice. No one minds that you don't know anything- in fact, they expect that you're as green as a sapling. Get involved! Go to rope bondage classes, spanking workshops, ask that guy over there how he manages to get such lovely marks with his flogger. Advertise for a mentor, or watch other people playing.
Practice flogging on cushions, knife play on tomatoes, wax play on yourself. Read things! The internet is full of smutty ideas and how-to guides.

Sadly, a lot of the young men that I've observed getting into kink don their Impenetrable Confidence Armour and everyone thinks they're a pumped up dick that plays dangerously and gets into pissing contests with the older Doms. Don't be that guy.

Realistically, what this comes down to, regardless of gender, is talk to people. They might have an idea. Or two. Or they mightn't, and you might have to learn together. There is no loss in being curious about the world. In saying that, I must reinforce one of the points I made earlier- don't get sucked into rumour mills and drama. People have a lot of very strong opinons about what is okay in kink, what's not, who is sleeping with too many people, who has an odd kink, whether sex is okay or totally not acceptable in BDSM...
It's all just power plays.
Form your own opinions of people, kinks, situations, ideas and respect other peoples'. You do not have to explain yourself, you do not have to share the opinion of the majority, and so long as you're playing safely, sanely and consensually you don't have to feel bad about anything that you choose to do.

Right, so we've talked about safety. Also communication. General handy advice. Oh yes, the most important tenet of all... Enjoy yourself! Go get 'em, you sexual lil deviant.

BDSM is a wide, wide world with many other interesting topics such as:

• what to expect at your first play party
•  just why are you weirdos into this anyway,  
• How to tell or avoid telling family/ friends/ co-workers about your deviant interests and
• I'm not really kinky but I'd like some ideas for the bedroom.

I will cover these topics in my next post. Rawr!

What happened in 2012?

Well, I'm gonna tell you. I saw this on one of my friends' blogs and found it quite inspiring.
So, here's a breakdown of my 2012:

January

In January, I was living in a bedroom. My flatmate Lyn, a strict and somewhat 'traditional' Chinese woman had some very odd rules that made my life difficult. I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol, my male guests weren't allowed to use the toilet and I was supposed to store my mugs and glasses in seperate cupboards. Weird.
I was experiencing some pretty bad depression in January- I didn't have too many close friends, I was broke and I was missing my partner at the time, DancingBear, like crazy.

It was towards the end of this month that some unpleasantness happened with a few close friends and someone I really liked slipped through my net of opportunity. I was, however, running a game of Forgotten Realms D&D with a really great group of people. (Geek).

February

In February, I decided to apply to study rehabilitation at Massey University. I also received a letter telling me that I was entitled to a $3000 odd tax refund- I hadn't claimed any for a few years, and it had accumulated. Yay! I decided to use that money to visit America, a lifelong dream, and DancingBear. It was the best holiday of my life! So many amazing experiences- I'm definitely planning to go back.
I started playing a Star Wars MMO this month- super awesome. 

I also ended up in hospital around a week after I went to the States... I had an odd pain in my side that the doctor thought might be appendicitis. It turned out to be Mystery Illness #22 and we never did get answers.
One of my best friends Mikaela came back to NZ from Canada and I got to hang out with her. :)

March

This was the month that I met TJ, my current partner. We had our first official date on the 9th, at Silo Park in the city watching the legendary film 'Labyrinth'.
It was also the month that DancingBear and I ended our long distance relationship.
I moved out of Lyn's place and in with TJ and his best mate, Scott. I introduced TJ to a female friend of mine, K, who became a close play partner with both of us for a few months.

April

I was introduced to the concept of 'Earth Hour' in this month. I was really excited and saw an opportunity to have an earth hour once a month- good for us, good for the environment!
Scott, TJ and I got drunk and played 'I have never' while the lights were off. It was an experience :P

I was also super ill in April- it seemed to be one thing after another. Colds, bruises, severely injured kneecap...

May

May was the month I started playing Vampire the Masquerade, a tabletop rpg about, well, vampires. (Geek.)
I also handed over the reigns on my D&D campaign so that I and the group could embark on the adventures of playing Savage Worlds; Interface Zero.

June

During this time, TJ was going through some pretty severe emotional troubles and I was finding it difficult to have energy for much outside our relationship.TJ surprised me by proposing! It was very sweet and romantic and he made sure that all of my friends were there to embarass me :P

It also happened to be Scott's birthday this month and so I organised a secret birthday party for him.
I organised his family and friends to meet us at this fancy Indian restaurant in the city and told him 'put a nice shirt on, we're going out.' He was so surprised! <3

July

July was a month of adventure!
I discovered the Avondale Markets, which are full of culture and cheap awesome things! You can find more information here.

I also went on a roadtrip with TJ to Rotorua. We had an amazing time- petting lion cubs, bathing in mineral hot pools and camping in a field of beautiful white ice.
We stayed at this amazing holiday park which I would definitely recommend if you're heading that way!

July was also the month that we decided to leave our house at Range View Rd. We were... looking for adventure, I suppose. We found a large house in Avondale that fit all of us and lived happily ever after. At least, mostly happily. One of our flatmates decided to move out after just a couple of months and we couldn't make rent without them, so there was a stressful period in which I had to find someone that would fit with our flat in just a week!

TJ's birthday is in July too! So... I planned a secret surprise birthday for him. First, on the eve of his birthday, a cake and presents, a nice dinner and some friends over. Then, I organised a Mexican Fiesta at Mexicali in the city on the next night with a bunch of our friends- margaritas and quesadillas for all! We went bowling afterwards and I was pretty pleased with myself.

August

Was uneventful. Really the only thing of note was Father's Day and I had to celebrate that without my dad. In fact, I have not seen him despite assurances to the contrary since December 2011. I sorta kinda wish I had a 'real' family sometimes.

Around this time, things with TJ's ex wife got quite heated. Ah, the joys of having to deal with ex partners because of children. 

September

TJ and I celebrated our 6 month anniversary (yes, we are that lame!).
We also attended his annual work function, which, for someone with Aspergers and someone with social anxiety was quite the ordeal. The chicken was delicious, though.

I achieved a long held small-dream of mine this month. I finally got around to running an erotic hypnosis workshop. It was held in Hamilton and it went really well. I'm so glad that I could help to improve peoples' lives and relationships through teaching new skills.

October

My favourite month! Mostly because my birthday is right at the beginning of it. I was completely and totally spoilt by TJ! He organised a super secret lunch at Elliot Stables for me with two of my dearest friends, Joel and Mikaela. We then went to a hotel he had booked after, with wine and chocolates and a spa bath in room. He bought me the most amazing presents, and we had an early dinner at Mexicali on K Rd, complete with margaritas.
I spent all of his money that night on booze and strippers... Classy.

October is also when halloween is. TJ and I decided that we would take the little ones trick or treating. B, the eldest, was super excited and let me dress him up like a zombie. I was a sugar witch! N, the youngest, decided that he didn't want to do that silly dressing up thing.

Disappointingly, almost no one in our neighbourhood was celebrating halloween- the boys got like, 2 houses for candy. So, we took them to the Light Party down at the local park where there was a petting zoo and some free rides.
NZ really disappoints me at Halloween. It's such a fun holiday!

November

Ah, the start of the Christmas festivities! We went to the Farmers' Santa Parade with the kids, which was, as usual, amazingly fun. This year they also did an awesome thing with Aotea Square where Santa had a party with music, food and rides.

TJ and I started going to couples' counselling so that we could strengthen our communication. It didn't really work in the way we wanted it to, but fortunately we managed to figure things out on our own.

During this month TJ met someone. A girl. He really liked her, and as usual, she turned out to be crazy. They had organised a date (okay, so it was my idea,) to go to a Christmas Burlesque show on K Rd.
She ended up flipping the crazy switch before their date, so I accompanied TJ instead and we had a lovely date at our first ever burlesque show.

November was the time I started playing my tabletop love, Exalted. (Geeeeek.) Ah. Now, it would take far too much of your time for me to explain exactly what it is, but needless to say TJ is chained to the coffee table, reference books and dice permanently glued next to him, to be used as my personal GM for this entrancing game.

December

Party month!

Two weeks before Christmas was my eldest son's birthday. He turned 7. We had birthday cupcakes and played Monopoly ^_^

A couple of days later I was at Christmas in the Park with Scott, Joel and Mikaela. It was so much fun! Good food, good Christmas spirit and a whole lot of tweenagers getting drunk and saying embarrassing things.

Christmas was an emotional time for me. I'm always reminded of my family, or lack of, and I long for days of my youth where such a fuss was made and I actually had presents under the tree. So, this year I made a decision- I was going to make Christmas happen. My Christmas, the one I remembered from my childhood. Food, presents, lights, a tree, people.
I did it, too! I pulled off an amazing Christmas day and got to spend time with my friends and loved ones.

December was also a month of change- TJ and I decided to find our own place together, which will be an interesting step forward in our relationship. I also followed one of my new dreams... To be a patisserie chef. I have enrolled, and been accepted, into a patisserie course through AUT.  I'm going to be the best damn pastry chef in Auckland.


That was my 2012-  how was yours?

Sometimes, love is hard.

There is a lot I have to say, as usual. The first is: thank you. Mostly, for being so patient with me during the long, wordless months as I get my life into some semblance of order.

I've not been idle! Oh no, quite the opposite. My life has changed dramatically, as it tends to, in just a few short months. As with many changes, there are lessons to be taken note of; information about how one should or should not go about things.

The primary piece of information that I have learnt over these past few long, blog-less months is- (ta~da!) that love is hard. Yes, you got it- the title is the post content. Original!

Waxing serious for a moment though- it just floors me how amazing and complex human emotions are when it comes to interpersonal relations. When I was thirteen, I thought I understood love and relationships. It was being excited to see someone, hanging out with them at lunchtime, stealing hugs and maybe kisses that seem so very naughty behind the P.E shed.
I loved wholly, unreservedly and a little naively when I was thirteen.
Then it ends, you're hurt and you learn from it; and if you're lucky or determined, you find someone else to love.

When I was sixteen I also thought I knew what love was. Feeling a bond to someone, saying 'I love you', sharing experiences, even moving out of home and into their one bedroom place because you totally went out with an older guy that had a car and a stable job so he could provide for you. That's part of love, riiiight?
Of course, at sixteen, often sex comes into the picture (if it hasn't already,) and you can't imagine what life was like without all of those soppy text messages and those interesting facts filling your teenage mind about his early days in a band.

By twenty, I was an expert. I'd been in polyamorous relationships, lesbian relationships, open relationships, alternative sexuality relationships. I had the experience of having relationships that had no convenient label, which is usually when one decides that labels are too 'stifling' and forgoes them completely.
If someone asked me what love was, I'd have an answer ready, at the tip of my acerbically witty tongue, rolling off words like 'commitment', 'deeper understanding' and 'shared interests'.

Now that I'm twenty four, I know something else. I know how hard it is to stay calm when someone you care about is hurting. I know the courage it takes to get up every morning, knowing that you're in a situation with another person that is less than ideal and that both of you are going to be grumpy and tired and that's before you've even got the kids' breakfast and wheedled them into cleaning their room.

I know how frustrating it is to be speaking plain English to someone that's less than a foot away from you and they still don't get what you're saying... Yet they're taking the time to sit there and listen and try to puzzle it out and that gives you a sense of being 'heard' that you've never fully appreciated before.

I know how it feels to be vulnerable to someone else, to intentionally let go of everything that I hide, not only from the world with make up and carefully taken pictures posted to the Internet and an impeccable, intimidating intellect, but from myself- things that I shy from acknowledging because secretly I think they make me less attractive, less 'good,' less lovable. I am lucky enough to know how it feels to have someone that accepts those parts of me... And knowledgeable enough to know what it would be like if they didn't.

In my relationship world, words happen, so often. I talk and talk and still, the problems are there. I laugh, I love and I yell. There is tension and confusion and then something wondrous happens.

I realise that I am still there. 

Somewhere, in the late night curled on the sofa in my old nightie with my hair an unruly mop and my unkempt legs, I realised that even though it was difficult I was still trying.
That for once in my life, I had the strength to overcome the urge to flee, to protect myself from potential harm because there was more to it than just me, now. 
That with angry scowls, stinging rebukes and a hand flung into the air in a gesture of helpless, final, frustration... I had learnt to control my fear and open the delicate core of myself to a human being that was completely different from me.
I realised, with a smug, self contented clarity that I'd not experienced before, that the man sitting opposite me in his snug grey PJ pants nestled up against the cacti of my legs was still trying. That he, for all of his pain and baggage, was trying to be worthy of my trust, trying to be just as open and raw and was ejecting his feelings again and again and again in a painful regurgitation of honesty that I had to admire.

I realised that sometimes, love is supposed to be difficult.

Finally, I'd grown up enough to understand commitment. To understand that even though things seemed much the same as they had before in other times with other people; that it was different.
Every day we love each other is a day of success for our relationship. Every moment is a chance for growth, every fight an opportunity to comprehend the other a little more.

Slowly, I'm learning to struggle with what unconditional love really means, and to question whether or not I'm capable of it. I'm learning that love is about teaching and learning and having opinions and not saying them sometimes. That it's compromise and stubbornness and disgust and affection.
Love is personal, secret, blatant, biased, inconvenient and beautiful.

Everyone has their own definition of it. I would think, though, that 'difficult' would be a word shared in many stories of love, over many generations. 
Of course, when I'm twenty seven, I'll look at this post. I'll shake my head. Perhaps tut a little. Then, I will smile at the discovery of what love really is, because I'll be older and wiser and much more experienced- all the better to make pinhole judgements of what the indefinable word 'love' really means.

Yoga for Relationships

I was reading a blog post today, about the way the author saw relationships.
He stated in his post "And girls should never change for guys. He’ll never notice love."

I don't believe this is true, in a certain light. In my mind, it's correct because you should change only if you believe you want to. However, also in my mind, relationships should strive to be a mutual growth of both partners. Love is a changeable thing- when you're in a relationship for many years, the love deepens, mutates, shuffles sideways and backwards and into lukewarm then fiery passionate then deep, solid trust and affection and all the places past and inbetween.

You need to change to stay with it, to understand it. You need to respect yourself and how you want to be and reach for that, while at the same time understand and respecting your partners needs and wishes. If my partner wanted me to change, I would consider it seriously. If I felt like I wanted to change something for myself, I would definitely give it a go.

In the past, I've had an interesting relationship with change. Sometimes, I've felt like others needed to change because obviously I was perfect and they were the problem.
Sometimes, I've felt like both of us needed to change and I was but they weren't even trying.
Occasionally, I felt like I grew past the person I was with and needed to leave the relationship so that they could understand how they needed to grow by experiencing life without me supporting them.

The basic point I'm trying to make is that I believe that gender doesn't and shouldn't enter into personal and inter-relationship development. Whether or not people need to change is unique to the relationship and the circumstances around it.
An addendum to this is that guys should not get to play the stereotype card to get away with ignorance and lack of appreciation in a relationship.
'He'll never notice love' is a very strong statement to make.
It implies that you practicing consideration will not be acknowledged.
It implies that females are the only ones that can see and appreciate sacrifice and compromise.

I try never to take my partner for granted and I expect the same courtesy. If you're with someone that:

•  isn't appreciative of the effort you put in (the actual effort, not just all the things you come up with to make them feel like you're shouldering the brunt of responsibility in the relationship,)
•  isn't  looking after themselves even though you've talked with them about it (the talking is important- you perhaps should not expect your partner to know what you want/ what you're thinking instinctively.)
• leaves you feeling like you're responsible for the wellbeing of the relationship single-handedly, or
• doesn't grow and change with you to the point where you are two completely different people with different goals on different levels...

then it may be time for you to strongly and ruthlessly evaluate your relationship needs and future.
Have high expectations of your partner, as well as yourself- (within respectful boundaries and acceptance of who they are as a person- ha! You thought that one was gonna be easy, didn't you?) - after all, if you don't believe in them and think they can be more than they are, who will?
Challenge, exceed expectations, be better because you can, lift them up, inspire them.
And, lastly, love without condition as best you can. He/she should notice and if he/she loves you, they'll try to do the same for you.

Honey, how do you feel about Spiritual Enlightment Classes?

Relationships. They're one of the things that we begin to learn about early in life and yet they're one of the things that we seem to have the most difficulty with.
By 'we', I am speaking of people in general. If you are comfortable and experienced with awesome relationships, then clearly this post is not about you. Well done.

'In mature love, we do not look to our partner to provide our happiness, and we don't blame them for our unhappiness. We take responsibility for the expectations that we carry, for our own negative emotional reactions, for our own insecurities, and for our own dark moods.' (Meinecke, author of 'Everybody Marries the Wrong Person').

I read that in a rather lengthy article here and it really struck a chord with me. Growing up and learning to deal with increasingly complex social and romantic relationships is a hard deal.(I will also note early on in this post that part of that lengthy article is based on marriage whereas I am referring in this post to long term romantic relationships in general).
 Where's the guidebook with the decision tree that tells you what will happen if you say this, or don't do that?
Or that handy reference section that details the best possible reactions to every emotionally volatile situation?
The answer: It doesn't exist.
However, the above quote very closely resembles my adult philosophy on romantic interactions with others. It wasn't a hard thing for me to accept that my happiness is something that I alone am responsible for.
It was, however, and continues to be, a learning curve in finding the sometimes hidden expectations about relationships that I carry with me.

'Invariably, we yearn for perfection but are stuck with an imperfect human being. We all fall in love with people we think will deliver us from life's wounds but who wind up knowing how to rub against us... If we fail to plumb ourselves and speak up for our deepest needs, which admittedly can be a scary prospect, life will never feel authentic, we will never see ourselves with any clarity, and everyone will always be the wrong partner.' (Boston Family Therapist, Terry Real, quoted from same article here).

This is not necessarily new information for me, but it certainly struck home the fact that it really is about me. It's about how I am growing as a person, and whether or not I'm considerate, thoughtful, loving and able to recognise my flaws and compensate for them. It's about if I can grow as a person, as well as grow with another person in a way that is healthy and feels good for both of us.

Another quote from the Very Long Article: 'Relationship identities are negotiated between two individuals. Relationships are not static ideals; they are always works in progress.'

How true is this?! I mean, just in the last year I have grown so much as an individual that I can barely be compared to the same person that I was. If I have changed and my needs and goals and interests have changed and evolved, then what happens to a relationship that I'm in during that time?
Learning to communicate how I feel and the changes that I'm going through personally have served to bring closeness to my relationships during periods of transition. Giving my significant other/s an idea of how I've changed and where I want to be has allowed me the freedom to explore in a respectful and considerate way.

One thing I will say as a general disclaimer- Yes, I recognise that it is okay for relationships to not work out.
I understand that people can grow apart, in different directions with issues or needs that are unacceptable to the other person. I also understand that sometimes people are not willing to compromise standards or expectations that are of importance to them and this means that the person they are with is not the right one for that situation.
I do believe though that if you're in a relationship that you want to continue, but there are things that you view as an issue with your partner, you should take a look at yourself first. It's important.

I will also argue that the statement:
 'People who cheated in one or more previous relationships are not great mate material. They destroy the trust and intimacy basic to building a relationship. It's possible to make a case for a partner who cheats once, against his own values, but not for one who compulsively and repeatedly strays.'(William Doherty, professor of psychology at University of Minnesota,) is not one that I totally agree with.

This is probably stated from the perspective of a person, professional though they may be, that believes in the practice of monogamous relationships. Of course, you can cheat in open relationships- it's all about the honest communication after all- and his point would still stand.

I do not believe that a person who has cheated in a previous relationship should be automatically written off as 'not great mate material'. I could be biased, having cheated on a previous partner myself before discovering the avenue of open and polyamorous relationships, but I really do think that there's something to be thought about here.
A statement that would sound more accurate to me would be something like 'A person that lies consistently is a person to think carefully about being in an intimate relationship with.' I mean, it's really the deception that breaks trust and intimacy as well as the lack of pre-communication about needs and feelings.
As before stated though, people grow and change and learn and make decisions that impact their values and the way that they interact with others. It's entirely feasible for that lying, cheating person to become someone that is honest and respectful.

That aside, here's a statement that reflects my current situation in terms of relationships:

 'One of the most common reasons we choose the wrong partner is that we do not know who we are or what we really want. It's hard to choose someone capable of understanding you and meeting your most guarded emotional needs and with whom your values are compatible when you don't know what your needs or values are or haven't developed the confidence to voice them unabashedly.'

I am still growing, learning, adapting, making mistakes, finding the values and passions and directions that I would like my life to have. I have a sneaking suspicion that because human beings are so adaptive and the nature of life is so changeable, that any one individual will never really be able to say with complete and lasting clarity 'This is what I want.'
From this comes the realisation that the onething that is super important is flexibility and a willingness to compromise. This includes with yourself, with your partner and with Life itself.

Have fun with it, love as you feel love should be and remember the whole 'when you point at someone there are three fingers pointing back at you' rule.

Time for some tea and a slice of sodomy, dear?

Okay, so this post is all about taking it up the ass.

I have been asked no less than four times this week if I would be interested in the idea of having someone's cock in my anal passage. (Doesn't it sound sexy when I put it that way?)
Now, this doesn't bother me in any way. I just find it curious that such a subject should be breached so many times in such a short period.
Now, let's get this straight- anal sex can be a fun and pleasurable activity, for those that enjoy it and do it correctly. And by correctly, I mean with patience and lube. Lots of lube.

The confusion here is not about the act itself. In fact, if you want a good, health related reason for women to do it- anal sex has been linked to decreased anxiety levels.
Apparently, there's an ingredient in male semen that is much more readily absorbed by the blood veseels in the rectum.
Butt sex for calmer people, yay!

It seems that anal sex is becoming more popular and mainstream in society than it used to be.
There was a survey released in 2005 that stated that 38.2% of men between 20 and 39 and 32.6% of women ages 18 to 44 engage in heterosexual anal sex. These percentages had increased by an average of 18.2% in just ten years.
It's a trend on the rise, and I must say I wonder at it. I mean, sure; breaking taboo is sexy.
Experimenting during sex is fun and keeps relationships interesting.
I guess this partly explains why being asked if you take it in the ass is a common occurance in the dating/ casual sex scenes these days.

There are just a few questions I'd like answered before I submit myself to em-bare-ass-ment.
Firstly, why is it that it's far more acceptable for men to stick the dick in women's asses than for women to dock the cock?
There's a ton of research done on gay and lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, including anal, with men as the penetrator, but seemingly little with women taking the 'lead role'. Certainly all of the men that have questioned me about anal sex have been referring to me receiving it.

It's my theory that the straight-male fear of reciprocal anal play is a potent mix of sexism and homophobia; a straight man can do it to someone else, but having it done to him is... Well, gay. (Which there is nothing wrong with, in my humble opinion.)

However!
The widely spread news of the anti-cancer benefits of prostate stimulation are giving straight guys a legitimate excuse to be more, uh, open to exploration.
Men’s magazines, which until a few years ago discussed anal sex only in terms of how to trick a girlfriend into giving it up, now talk about the male G-spot, a.k.a. the He-spot and how much pleasure a man can receive from this kind of stimulation while keeping himself healthy and cancer free.

I would encourage women to have a go at wearing the cock, so to speak; it's a very interesting power dynamic and one that many women find rewarding sexually. 

Next question: What is it that is so damn fascinating about putting your junk in my trunk?

The various responses I've received from men when asked this question have been pretty much as I expected.
It's tighter. It feels 'naughty' and exciting. It's a new sensation. It gives him a feeling of dominance.
It allows him to give her more pleasure because he can also stimulate her vaginally (only the really smooth guys used a line like this).
Still, the fact remains for me that it is a place in my body that expels waste. There is absolutely no way I can make that shit sexy. (Y'see what I did there?). It does feel good, though. Shhh.

So, what we learn and question from all of this:

1) Anal sex can have a calming effect. Can't sleep? Spread 'em!

2) Straight men have a scientific come back for why they're merely self caring if they indulge in anal play, if they're insecure and feel the need to justify their choices.

3) More people are having anal sex. Soon, it'll become the new zumba and everyone will be doing it.

4) How will the increasing commonality of anal intercourse affect population numbers? (Both through reduction of pregnancies and the transmission of STI's through negligent hygiene and safety practices).

5) An ass is still an ass, no matter what you put in it. Be clean, play safe.

Awkward Dinosaur in America!

Day 1.5- (The day of flight, visiting the past and getting up to do more stuff after sleeping.)

So, my trip started off well.

 Got bags, got stuff, got me. Seems sorted. Get to airport on time? Success.

Get to check in desk. Success.

Submit passport in exchange for boarding pass? Fail. 

A company, who I shall not name because I am beneath such things, managed to mis-read my name on my flight booking and hence printed the wrong name on my ticket. This, of course, sent staff into perplexed mumbling and me into a mild panic, complete with small whimpers. 

After being advised to call the Company that Shall Not Be Named, I was even more frustrated.

They basically told me that ‘According to company policy, Expedia (oops, sorry, did I just name-drop? Where’s that delete key? Can’t seem to find it. Odd.) could not re-print my ticket, change my name or be, in any practical way, helpful. They advised calling the airline.

Which I did. 

 *Ring ring*

“I’m sorry, but our offices aren’t open until many hours from now. Please have fun sorting out your problem on your own.”

Frazzled, I returned to the loving care of the helpful staff of Air New Zealand. Within ten minutes, I got a boarding pass to Sydney with the help of a sneaky system wrangling plane-person by the name of Jeff. Success! 

On plane to Sydney, one step closer to the end goal. Now to sort out my boarding pass at the other end!

While waiting in Sydney for airline staff to man the boarding gate, I met Kim the Other Friendly Aucklander. Thanks to her witty conversation, I survived the next few harrowing hours (five, to be precise) with my own wits relatively intact. And my ticket was sorted out.

During our conversation, however, we noticed some interesting happenings. Americans!

The first American I heard was, surprisingly enough, in the airport. And what were the first gracious words out of this charmingly sweet woman’s mouth? I was curious to hear them… It would do a lot for my forming judgements on the species.

Her first words were: “If other people fed their children, they wouldn’t cry so much. Obviously they need to take a parenting course. “

 Now, it’s not that I’m against this statement in principal. It’s mostly that it came from a woman who had no idea when these people had last fed their children- it could have been five minutes ago!

Luckily, I was distracted form this as Even More Americans piled into the space around Gate 60. Where before there had been understated, functional and open plan foyers for checking in, manned by a team of quiet, uniformed flight assistants, now there were loud Americans in suits, striding around like they meant business. They were taking over boarding gate 60, a coup complete with intimidating body searches and uniform blue screens. 

After all of that, boarding the plane was rather uneventful. The first thing that tickled my fancy was how American everything was. I mean, you expect it, I suppose, but it’s a different thing to experience. We were watching baseball on the inflight video.  Baseball.

Then there were the accents of the pilots and flight crew. ‘Would yew lahke somethin’ tuh drank?’

The American madness continues as the pilot reads out our in-flight instructions. Gems, every one of them. 

My favourite was ‘No social mingling in the gallies and lavatories.’

I mean, really... Who’s going to hang out in a lavatory?!

I also liked the statement that:

‘TSA have secure rules and restrictions for the safety of our passengers.'
One of these is that passengers are restricted to using the lavatories that are assigned to their particular
section of the plane!

Anyway, I'm writing this bit a few hours into the L.A leg of the trip, and my coccyx hurts. That’s right, you heard me. 

So, to take my mind off this, I spend time gazing out my window at clouds.  I’ve always found clouds absolutely fascinating. There’s something about being up in the sky, with just blue around you and the soft fluffy wool of clouds.

You feel like you’re part of something bigger, like you can see the whole world as it really is… It’s as if being 40,000ft? in the air somehow makes you invulnerable and better than what you were as a human being standing on two legs at 0ft above ground.

Just a note: It’s currently 10pm NZT and we’ve still got 8.5 hours to go. I haven’t moved from my seat since I sat down. I’m wondering if that’s going to hurt later, and if I can keep it up before we get to L.A.

This. Flight. Is. So. Long. 

Aaaand... I made it! Going through Security and Customs was a bit of a sleep deprived blur. No invasive cavity searches, no embarrassing and drawn out manual inspections of the contents of my suitcase. Just endless amounts of questions, some fingerprint scanning and a token 'Have a nice stay in America.'

Sorry to make this such a long post, but I did promise I'd keep you updated and so much has happened in the past 48 hours!

First really exciting thing was seeing Evan. It was kind of surreal- I had missed him so much, and suddenly I was with him, sitting in the car (admittedly, the steering wheel was on the wrong side and we were driving on the right hand side of the road,) and chatting about the flight and the trees and the crazy American drivers. 

The next really exciting thing that happened was being taken to Costco. Yup, it's huge. For you Kiwis, think Gilmores but bigger and with way more stuff, including furniture. 

My mind was stretching, and there were funny tingles sporadically travelling down my neck with each turn of my head to focus on one of the million other amazing sights set before me. 

It was so overwhelming, in fact, that I need to end this post. Right now. Hard...To... *brain spasm*

Do these genes make my butt look fat?

The answer is probably yes. The more interesting question is: do I sit on my fat butt and worry about it, or do I leap onto the treadmill for some vigorous butt-busting exercise?
Okay, so that wasn't as interesting a question as it sounded in my head. Here's something that's related though- buried deep in my genetic make-up are two little blips of DNA that decide for me which of the above options I should take naturally. Cool, huh?

It has recently come to my attention that there is a lot that Science (yes, it needs a capital, so it can continue to be pretentious and authoritative. Also, I happen to like the shape of a capital 'S',) is learning about the human condition. Perhaps you already knew about this, but for those of you that don't...
One of the more fascinating of these that I've come across lately is the Worrier/ Warrior genes or as Science names it, the 'catechol-O-methyltransferase (COMT) gene, which has a common variant at codon 158' of either 'valine (Val158) alleles' or 'methionine (Met158) substitution.'

So, to break the effects of these down a bit- you know that person that always seems to be fretting about whether or not they turned the lights off when they go out to the pub, or the people that prefer to stay inside away from anything remotely dangerous and read a book instead?
They're Worriers. Either one or both of their COMTs are methionine variants.

Now, the people who are all up-and-at-'em, on the rollercoasters, doing martial arts, taking risky financial moves and throwing a left hook at the guy who just spilt salsa on them?
They're Warriors. Either one or both of their genes are valine alleles. (Look here for allele clarification.)

Now, it is possible for a person to have either two Worrier genes, two Warrior genes, or one of each. These genes determine aspects of our personality and how we deal with certain situations. It has been shown that people that possess strong Warrior genes deal well with processing 'aversive stimuli' such as pain, while people that possess strong Worrier genes have a slight advantage in memory and attention tasks.

There are other differences too! Let's take a look at the Warrior and Worrier in detail.

The Warrior:

The good news is, Warriors seem to be able to cope with stress more easily! Their brains fill naturally and easily with dopamine when triggered by a stressor, which enables them to function much better (than Worriers) in stressful situations. If there's a cave lion attacking you, you'll likely win.
The bad news is, there's some strong evidence to suggest that Warrior genes make it more likely for the person carrying them to develop Schizophrenia.
There are also, apparently, external factors which influence the development of these genes. If, for example, you get high on the green leaf when you're a Warrior adolescent, you're much more likely to develop psychotic symptoms in later life. Crazy.
So basically, you get to be a cool superman that can take pain and not stress about shit but you'll go mental in later life. Bonus.

The Worrier:

The Worrier genes mean that there is a near constant chemical response in the body to stress. Dopamine fills the brain on such a regular basis and the adrenal glands are tired out so frequently that when a truly stressful situation does occur, the Worrier is much less efficient (than the Warrior) at coping with it.
Worrier genes have been linked to evidence that suggests anxiety disorders are much more common in people that carry this gene.
Worriers are likely to be pansies in the face of pain- it is shown that there is actual physical evidence that these people feel more pain than Warriors.
It is thought (based on actual research in Science) that Met alleles developed fairly recently (which, by the way, in Science language could mean hundreds of years ago) and 'may be particularly useful in complex environments where maximal performance is required on tasks of memory and attention.'
So, you get to be smart and attentive and, dare I say it, likely to be more intelligent but you're likely to have a mental breakdown later in life from all that stress.

Of course, if you have both, you could end up being a crazy legend like Ozzy Osbourne, who reportedly has one of each kind of gene. This might explain his recklessly bold career moves and his sense of insecurity and anxiety that has persisted throughout his life.
The best thing, though, is that neither gene is 'better' than the other. As far as Important Science is concerned, they've both made it through the evolutionary blender and persist to this day. We obviously need people that have different skills, different chemistry and different personalities for the human race to not only function, but to improve and develop.

If you'd like more information, or to re-read what I just explained to you but in confusing and Scientific terms, try here and here and for an entertaining piece about Warrior aggression, click here.

*Please note* That I am not a doctor, a scientist or an otherwise certified Ass that has any right to claim any of the above ideas as my own work. This post was written as a slightly informative, casual take on a piece of new and interesting information I had come across and decided to write about at 3 o'clock in the morning.

The Holiday of Hearts and Hubris

So. It's almost February. You know what happens in February?
Let me give you a clue: It's commercial. It's romantic. It raises peoples' hopes and expectations and then succeeds in dashing them; thus causing an argument that brings up every single disappoint experienced by either party and then it ends in tears and a hefty divorce settlement.

Yup, it's Valentine's Day!

Now, please don't read me wrong. I'm a dinosaur that likes a little romance in her life. I like presents, especially if they're wrapped in red paper. I love receiving flowers and being told nice things. I can even be partial to, dare I say it, being taken out somewhere nice with my partner actually behaving himself and occasionally glancing at me like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

However! Yes- you knew that was coming. Clever reader.
Valentine's Day has become something far more than it was supposed to be; the real meaning and intent lost in layers of pink tissue paper and extravagant cost-you-more-than-you-can-afford gestures.
In this post, we'll take a look at how it came about and what I believe it should really be about. (C'mon now... It *is* supposed to be my blog and therefore filled with lofty opinions that you must read in order to get to the entertaining stuff...)

So, Saint Valentine's Day was named after 'one or more' early Christian Martyrs. Apparently their supplicants lost track of just how many sacrificed themselves.
Originally, from all accounts, Valentine's Day had absolutely no connection with romantic love at all. It was really just about a couple of different men that were persecuted. Of course, if you're into that sort of thing, it could all be terribly romantic- It's like Romeo and Juliet all over again, except with a couple of Christian men that died for faith instead of love, and they were killed rather than commit suicide (because that would have been a sin!)
Okay. You're right. It was absolutely nothing like Romeo and Juliet.

Still, as these things happen, it became about love. Why?
A man named Geoffrey Chaucer set quill to ink to parchment and wrote a poem about love and mating to celebrate the first year engagement anniversary of some fifteen year old King to his fiancee. (King Richard II of England to Anne of Bohemia, if you really wanted details.)
The idea was so beautifully put, words singing off paper and into the love-thirsty minds of his audience, that Chaucer effectively gave rise to the belief  and implementation of a tradition that was to be carried on for hundreds of years.

Traditions change over time; and when you take into account that people always have individual opinions and ways of doing things, well, something's going to get lost in translation.

There are so many different ways and days to celebrate love and romance in a global sense. At the bottom of this post, I'll even list some of the more interesting ones.
So how is it, with the perfect and pure intention of telling someone you love them, that it can all go so horribly wrong?

1) Women. They're involved in this holiday, whether you like it or not. The End.

2) Okay, to be fair and non-sexist, I'll add some clarification. How about society? Yes. That's a good one. Society has essentially built up the gender roles so that women have come to expect that on Valentine's Day, they'll be treated like a Princess and have gifts like it was their birthday and there'll be flowers and birds singing and... Well, you get the point.

There are a couple of problems with this, as you might have already guessed. (You're a wily bunch, you readers. I've got my beady, prehistoric eye on you.)

• Sometimes there isn't anyone to give presents, make grandiose statements of undying love; or even toast in bed, for that matter. 

• Most of the men that I know are against Valentine's Day for one reason or another- They're too lazy, they're broke, they don't see why they can't do those things for her on any other day where it isn't an expectation...

3) Society. Oh wait; did I already use this one? Well, too bad! This is number three.
Society has, as it is wont to do, taken the feminist protests for the right and opportunity to work, have equal rights, equal pay and equal social standing- and made them almost compulsory. It is much less acceptable for women to stay at home and raise their children, cook for their husbands and keep a house running as a recognised role/ profession. Oh no! Those lazy bitches should be in the workforce, I tell you!

And so, the roles have become rolled when it comes to other areas of life and couplehood; like Valentine's Day. Uncertainty clouds the minds of people in their pre-Valentine's anticipation. 'Do I buy him something now that I'm working?' and 'Do we both pay when we go out for dinner?' and my personal favourite:
'She's the one that's into the bloody holiday; let her put the effort in. I'll wait and see what happens. Hopefully she'll get me that awesome Man-Toy3000 I've been hinting at after giving her pleasure.'

Amongst conflicting personal views and misinformation, Valentine's Day goes wrong.

4) Society. Okay, okay. I'll rename it. How about... Uh... Capitalism and the Media!
Valentine's Day is number one for the year on the retailer's list of holidays. It kicks off all the others; and 'love' is such a powerful way to guilt trip consumers into buying armloads of crap they didn't really want to buy. Heart-shaped cards that cost $10 and last 10 minutes... Teddy bears that get a squeal of delight, only to be thrown on the shelf for 6 months before the next big clean... Chocolates to make her fatter so she'll complain about her weight more... These things you simply must give your loved one or crush or you're being a bad person. At least, that's what media would have us believe.

5) Expectation. Aha! Got you there, didn't I? You were expecting a certain 's' word that rhymes with... Well, never mind. I win.
Expectation is the worst thing that ever happened to Valentine's Day.
It's the thing that sets you up for failure, or at the very least, disappointment.
When you're a woman, raised in- ah, here it comes- Western society, you come to have expectations of the kind of things that Valentine's is about. You're thinking flowers, chocolates, special and touching words of love and devotion. You're thinking dates, and dinner, and maybe even a chance to show off that sexy new lingerie.

You're also left thinking 'Oh, was that it?' and 'I didn't want that one. Doesn't he know me at all?' and 'Everyone else looks so happy. What's wrong with me/us?'.  Even the toast he brought to you in bed was burnt, and you got crumbs all over the new sheets.
A day that was made to celebrate love and foster closeness in your relationship has just suddenly become a bleak and awkward day that you end up both wanting to avoid.

'There's got to be a way!' you protest. Well, here's the advice of someone that's been around for a few thousand years.

• Communicate. Let your partner know what Valentine's Day means to you, if anything. If you want those flowers, that romance, then let them know. It's better to talk about it then to play guessing games.

• Lower your expectations- do you actually need more from your relationship than you have? If the answer is yes, then Valentine's presents won't fix it.

• Try to give back a little; if making your partner feel loved and happy doesn't make you feel good too, you might be in the wrong relationship. 

• Try spending time instead of money. It works, I tell you. Do something nice for someone you care about- it shows your love in a thoughtful manner. This can be a love letter (handwritten shows more feeling and effort than type- just saying,) or a quiet afternoon together in a pleasant place, or even getting around to putting up that new fence she wanted *and* painting it, even though she didn't ask you to.

• If you don't have a 'partner', hang out with your friends and family and let them know that you appreciate them! Love exists in many forms, right?

•  Make a kind of Valentine's resolution. You know that love doesn't have to be, and in fact shouldn't be, celebrated only on one day of the year. So, from this day onwards, make an effort to show/tell your partner you care every day, even just in small ways. A kiss, a whispered encouragement, a little note on the bedstand.

Above all, I think my cardinal rule is 'have fun with it.'
If there really was a Saint Valentine that looked after all things love related, I think that he'd want you to seek out your meaning of love.
I think he'd want people to practice loving consciously, which means taking responsibility for their part in love and making effort to be accepting, kind and considerate.
I also think that he'd be a really rich bastard because he'd claim the proceeds that come from such a ridiculously expensive holiday!

Awkward Dinosaur tries online dating!

Okay, so. I've been on online dating websites for a few years now. It's the kind of thing you do when you're young and eager and curious, right?

Maybe that was the case for me; some of the messages I received, however, were from people that were on these sites for completely different reasons. So I collected some of the shining jewels of the inbox and posted them here, complete with witty and sarcastic commentary, for your enjoyment.

First off, how not to do it...

The Enthusiastic Sex Machine!

"Let me rock your world ! you said you love amazing sex i can give you more! i love girls like you not too skinny , skinny girls and sex dont mix ! anyway im here holla at me if you want to take this to another stage ! trust me id be more then happy !"

Let's take this apart, starting with the positives. (Yes, there are positives.)
He gets +2 points for reading my profile, and +2 points for a somewhat original starting line. Another +2 points for an upbeat, positive attitude and +1 point for attempted compliment.

Apparently he doesn't know anything about capitalisation or punctuation so he receives -2 points. Another -2 for the huge ego.... 'I can give you more!'. Really? Did you think I was lacking in it? Because believe me, I'm not.

-1 point for use of the word 'holla'. I'm not a 'gangsta' and you shouldn't be either.
An epic -4 points for the compliment-gone-wrong.-1 point for bagging on skinny girls; all girls are beautiful in their own way and I'm quite certain that skinny girls and sex can happen, regardless of his personal preferences.

So, overall, a disappointing -3.


Next up is The Screensaver.

You know; adapts himself to fit every user, is nice to look at but needs some settings changed so that he can be a better screensaver?

First message: "hey, what if your a guy interested in bi girls and erotic hypnosis... ? just saying I'm exploring you know :)"

An hour later: "Hey you seem like a really interesting chick who would be down for some fun and good conversation, would you be keen on maybe watching the inbetweeners ? just thought you'd be into that movie I love the series... anyway you seem real cool and I'd love to learn some stuff from ya X) hope to hear back from you sooon ! :)"

Okay, so to be fair to this guy, he seems nice. Genuine, even.
Still, my knee-jerk response to the first message is 'Yeah, what if?! Fancy that happening...'

Still, +2 points for making an effort to find something I'd be into. +2 for the compliment- I find being told I'm interesting to be quite flattering. +1 for the overall positivity of both messages. +2 points for being open minded and willing to explore.


As to negatives, -2 for capitalisation and punctuation. Also, why has he put spaces between the end of his sentences and the punctuation?!
-1 for the phrase 'chick who would be down for some fun'. That just screams of 'I think you're an easy lay.'
-1 for using the words 'real cool'. I mean, I am, but really.
-1 for the assumption that I'd love to teach him 'stuff'.

Screensaver comes out with a +2. Seems he's ahead of the pack.

Well, there's always the kinky folk! Here's Mr TMI.

"im (insert name here) and ive been readying your prof ...i realy like you and i just wana say i wana be your little toy boi ..make me your little secert i want you to slap me tie me up pee on me and abuse me all you want i just want to be used out doors in the pool any where you want..... what you say about fun now????for you ill do anything from licking your toes to's liking anything of the floor or cleaning up after you hun i will be at your every dirty lil wimp"

Yes! Please! It's what I've always dreamt of... Having an illiterate, desperate male to pee on. Heaven.
Yes, that was sarcasm and I'm not even going to bother grading this one. I can't count quite that far back in negatives.

And, finally, one of the best messages I think I've received yet:

"i'm just curious about your thing...
care to chat???"

I'm curious about my 'thing' too- I didn't think I had one!

Awkward Dinosaur thinks she will just stick to watching porn and meeting geeks at Sci Fi Cons.

The Biggest Challenge

So, recently I've fallen into doing a lot of those things that a lot of fuller figured women hate.

I've been binge eating sugar, and blaming it on stress.

I've been comparing my figure to other women my age, and finding myself lacking.

I've been cringing at myself in photographs and mentally re-taking them without the double chin and the flabby arms and minus about 40kg.

I'm a strong, confident, intelligent woman with plenty of admirers and I love myself. So why must these insecurities, these imperfections, these destructive behaviours keep returning to haunt?

The answer: It's complicated.

Social pressure these days is not only about the 'perfect' image for women, but about the health conscious, which makes it more of a serious issue for most of the BBWs I know. Once it's not about looking like Barbie and being a sexy size 6 stripper that would fit on an MTV screen, but instead about the fact that being within the correct BMI framework means less serious health issues, better quality of life, and more time to enjoy things... You start to take it seriously.

You read all the books, buy all the 'right' foods, feel proud of yourself because you went to the gym twice that week, or because you chose to walk that extra bus stop...

Right before the pressures of that poster at the supermarket, advertising your favourite ice cream on special.

Or when your friend is being really depressed because her boyfriend dumped her; so you eat those calorie-laden fudge brownies you baked her in a marathon sugar/crying session over men. Your reasoning is that it's alright because it's comfort food, and it's for your 'emotional health'.

You're late for work and forget to make lunch, so you go to the bakery to buy something. Surely you can get a filled roll or something. Yes, you can. Ooh, and what about one of those apple strudel things? They've got fruit in them- it counts, right?

... One thing I can say, straight up: Bitches be crazy.

It's no wonder, with all the conflicting information we get given!

Be sexy, but it's essential to love and accept yourself how you are.
Be slim enough to fit into generic label clothing, but beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.
Eat 'healthy'- which means, of course, being on the right diet for your body type/ blood type/ gender/ star sign.

I'm a Libra- that means I get to eat chocolate every day. Honest.

As a plus size girl of 23, I don't want to feel unattractive. I don't want to feel that I don't measure up to other girls my age, or that I have to accept just having compliments about my pretty face and my great personality.
I want to be admired. I want to see lust in a man's eyes, and in his pants.

I want to be a real woman, and to me that means having realistic goals for a realistic image and a healthy lifestyle that I have control over.

So, as a favor to myself, I'm going to stop lying to the one person in the world I lie to:
Myself.

I'm going to admit it when I'm eating for comfort.
I'm going to hold myself accountable for decisions I make and the consequences of them.
I'm going to take it easier on myself when I'm stressed out, and be harder on myself when it counts.
I'm going to set achievable goals for my weight, for my eating habits, and for my self expectations.
Most important of all, I'm gonna put a post-it note on my mirror, and here on Blogspot, to remind me of the most important thing of all.

We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies. ~Roderick Thorp, Rainbow Drive

The Joy of Christmas

So, Christmas is one of my favourite times of year. Sure, it's a commericalised shopping holiday for the masses... but it still holds a special magic for me, in the way that it brings people together and kindles the spark of mischievious excitement that we all felt as children. Christmas is a time where everyone can feel loved, and special; each a special star in the communal bond of humanity.

 Of course, naturally some stars shine brighter than others... (It also looks like I'm trying to backhand Jen's boobs and chop off that poor pedestrian's neck...)

Those of you who know me well probably know that I don't really have the typical family structure. My family is made up of an odd assortment of friends, lovers, and geeks. At this time of year, it's really important to me to show them that they mean a lot to me, in good times....

...And in better times....

The holiday season fills my heart with joy for so many reasons- Christmas lights, the smell of pine, brightly wrapped, mysterious box shapes under the merry lights of a decorated tree... Mmm, fresh baking, and pudding, and... Gigantic dinosaurs!

This holiday season, I'm making it a priority to spend time with my friends and to really live in the moment- experience everything with open mind, heart and occasionally legs.

Laughter is most definitely on the agenda, as is making an absolute ass out of myself for the sake of comedy.

This year, I've learnt so much about myself, and met so many amazing people, done so many mind-blowing things (and women,) and I feel that Christmas really is the best way to finish up.

So... Merry Christmas everyone! Find the magic, the fun and the connection this season and remember to play safe ^_^