The Stress

I like to live my days in a constant state of stress.  No, maybe 'like' isn't the right word.  It's more like I need to live in a constant state of stress.  When my world is always on the brink of explosion, covered in deadlines, fraught with sleepless nights, that's when I churn out my best work.  I can't explain it, I don't try to understand it.  It's how it's been for years and how it's always going to be.

I know it sounds bad.   Most people opt for as stress-free life as possible.  "How can you operate?  How do you not break down?  How can you be so calm when everything is basically falling apart?"  and to be honest, I do break down.  Often.  Just like any and everyone else does.

I know my brain.  I know if I let up, it'll fail me.  I'll fail me.  At this point in my life, I refuse to fail myself.

I spent a good portion of my youth numbing my brain and ostensibly not feeling stress because...well, I wouldn't let myself feel anything emotionally or physically.  and isn't that so much worse?  I would rather be in a constant state of panic than to ever allow myself to be numb to the world.  It means I can feel.  It means I care.

Anyways, stress isn't a bad thing in my mind-  don't we all stress our bodies as rope bottoms?  Don't we all test ourselves to see what we can do?  How we break?  How we put ourselves back together?

BDSLR sent me a few images from a few weeks (or maybe months, I stopped keeping track of time when it comes to his editing ;).  All I could think of when I got the images was "Look at all this stress I'm under.  Look at me survive it."

The Perfect Suffer

I've never been good at 'faking it', the 'it' being subjective to whatever situation I happen find myself.  I was never big on faking orgasms, I'm often horribly blunt about how I feel about a person much to the chagrin of M0co, my parents, AND my therapist, I don't like playing weird games.  If I'm up during a manic episode, you'll know it.  If I'm trapped in crippling depression, you'll also probably notice it (although in those cases, I do try to fake it until I make it.)

So why should my suffering during play be any different?

Last weekend, M0co and I headed up to Philly again to celebrate the birthday of a friend of ours.  It was a small, quiet little get together, with only one or two familiar faces.  Most of the people there were new to me.  It's kind of fantastic to be able to escape to a place where you aren't forced to work, and yes, almost all play parties have turned into work since M0co LLC'd.  Just a few friends and a few more strangers.

It wasn't an actual play party, but there was a hard point set up, so we decided to take advantage of a rare opportunity to actually play and not feel like we were performing.  So M0co did what he does best: he makes me suffer for him.  It wasn't showy or perfectly executed, but that's how we like it.  We shared a moment of honesty and intimacy, connecting with rope and each other.

Strangely, I get a lot of compliments on my suffering, like I'm doing an exceptional job at being distressed and hurt.  I joke about my 'suffer face' and say something along the lines of, "Thanks! I made it myself!" or I just redirect the compliments somewhere else.  It's always uncomfortable to me when people are praising me for something I'm not intentionally working on.  Or maybe I just really suck at accepting praise, blame my very Asian upbringing where doing exceptionally well is doing your job.

Sometime during all the celebration and complements that night, it finally occurred to me that people can tell when you're faking it in a scene, regardless of how amazing the acting may be.  The over exaggerated sigh, the too perfectly time wince- it's amazing how these things can turn a beautiful playtime into something grotesque.  but it happens all the time.  I blame photography. 100%.

Because how can anyone truly know you're suffering without the absolute perfect image of you pouting, lips curled just so, with your eyes shining with the threat of tears? People are constantly striving for The Perfect Suffer,that they forget to actually...you know, suffer.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love photos.  I enjoy setting up photo shoots and I even don't hate photos of myself when taken during play.  I think the problem lies in everyone thinking they NEED to have The Perfect Suffer.  Whether it's to prove their Domliness (hey, everyone does it), or their submissiveliness, everyone's always chasing this perfect image around.  The problem is, in trying to re-create and force The Perfect Suffer, you just get...ashes.

The Perfect Suffer has nothing to do with how your hair falls in a certain way, or the obvious strain in your body.  I think The Perfect Suffer is when you are the most honest with yourself and you let yourself be lost in the moment.

DomWithLens, possibly one of the most talented photographers I know, is a big fan of catching 'moments' as opposed to taking photos from a shoot, and sent me a couple of incredible images.  I'm always excited to see what he's captured and so far, he hasn't let me down.

Photography by DomWithLens
Rope is M0coJute

Impact of Memphis, Here We Come!

I haven't updated in a while...life's been kind of strange recently.  In vanilla world, I have a full time day job now.  That stops me from being able to write in my dirty little blog because sites with adult content are prohibited.  I do love working, though.  Feels nice to not be a scrub.

Daddy has been busily making jute rope; it's become quite popular with riggers in the states.  We're selling something like 3-7 sets of rope a week :)  The extra income is very welcome.  It's actually gotten to the point where I asked Daddy to quit his actual job and make rope full time.  He's really considering it and will probably make a decision by next weekend.  He says it requires a lot of trust in his partner (meaning me) in order for him to do something like this.  I take that as a good sign :)

This Easter weekend, Daddy and I will be in Memphis to do our first out of state performance.  I'm not sure why it makes me so nervous to know it's a performance: it's something I've done a million times at play parties in the area.  Just the idea that people will have certain expectations makes me...I don't know...giddy. Nervous.  Excited.  Did I mention nervous?  I've been speaking with Clover about it and she gave me tons of awesome advice.  Still nervous, though.

If anyone of my readers (all 16 of you?) are in the Memphis area, please come by!  There's to be a high protocol dinner beforehand and a funtimes play party afterwards.  We'll also be vending some of our rope...because...we have to pay for this trip somehow :D