The Baby and the Bathwater

Don't mind the words in the picture. It's the artistic rendering of the two women that's appropriate in this case. One's scared, the other in control. They appear familiar to each other, with a certain amount of time spent together.

Or maybe I'm just projecting that last part.

For the longest time, I've been heeing and hawing about my social circle. Not my entire social circle, mind you, but the women that I call my best friends. We grew up together and in the process, I've grown apart from them. We don't communicate often, and we hardly see each other. And yet, I find myself applying the term "best friend" to two of these women, instead of revoking that privilege to the entire group.

It's strange, how it happened. It was like breaking up with a lover, even though we'd only had a platonic relationship. There were the usual trappings: not wanting to elongate a cycle that may or may not be vicious; feeling anxiety and frustration at the very thought of dealing with her; doubting the validity of our relationship. And it took years to come to this conclusion. In true break-up form, I'd been deliberating this break for a quarter of the time that we'd been "together".

But we were different people. We had vastly different priorities. And we didn't trust each other.

That last part is what really did it.

Her boyfriend (who's a douchebag that makes her cry all the time), and his best friend (who'd tried to hook up with me - and failed), told her that I'm a liar. And she believed them. She didn't defend me. She didn't communicate with me. She just started being hostile and calling me a liar. Via text. Because, ya know, if she spoke with me in person or on the phone, she might realize what a complete bitch she's being, and that would contradict the numero-uno supreme rule of her universe: Her boyfriend is everything good in the world.

And it hurt. Badly. To hear her call me a liar. To accuse me of - get this - telling people that I own more property than I really do own, and that I have more degrees that I've earned. Not only is it completely and utterly uncharacteristic of me to lie, but if I did lie, you'd think I'd be more creative. Or smarter about it. Why would I make such outrageous claims to someone who could so easily check them out? And why oh why would I ever lie about status and wealth and education? At least, why to them? I've never been one to care about status and wealth and following trends. I mean, hell, I'm proud to tell you that I shop at discount stores and that that dress of mine that you covet was bought at a thrift store. And why the fuck would I lie to them about my education/ Are they gonna give me a six-figure salary?

All of this bothered me. So. Much.

I mean, sure, I'd already had my doubts about her value to me as a friend. We don't vibe anymore, and other than our past, we share nothing in common.

But I'd looked forward to seeing past that and finding a few moments where our synapses click and hum to the same beat, at the same time, in the same key. I'd looked forward to those inevitable moments of familiarity when you look at your friend of many years and go, "That's why we're BFFs." Before any of those things happened, she accused me of being a liar, refused to talk things out, and said that she'd only speak to me after I admitted to saying things that I didn't say. On top of that, she had the gall to act as if she was doing me a favor, with an air like, "Just be glad I still call you my best friend - even though you're a liar."

Fuck that.

Fuck our relationship.

Fuck sisterhood.

Fuck our history.

In my world, loyalty is mutual. She's proven herself disloyal, and I'm too wise to believe that I'm losing something of value by throwing her to the curb. Don't get me wrong; I ask myself all the time about the repercussions of these events. Will the other two girls treat me differently? Will I lose them in the process? Do I regret telling her, "If you don't trust me, then we don't have a relationship?" [NOTE: The same words that my father said to me right before I left my folks' place and became estranged from him.]

I can't claim to know what the future holds, but I can say with confidence and honesty that no matter what happens, I won't regret it. I've reached a point in my life where I trust myself and I trust that I'm making the right choices.

Control Freak

It's 12:30 on the Sunday after Halloween, and I'm sitting at Cafe Enduro with my friend and fellow website-writer, Deena. We haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks, and today there's business on the agenda. In hopes of luring more traffic to The Musing Broads, I've enlisted my friend, Hunter, to help jazz up the site.

Now, lemme tell ya: when it comes to technology, I'm pretty much a retard. I mean that. I'm slooooowwww. I'm pretty sure that in the next couple of years, I'll be more up on it, but right now, I know nearly nothing about the internet, the new technology available on the market, and how to jazz up a website.

But I know people, so I don't necessarily need to know shit anyway.

I'd set up the meeting a couple weeks before, and I'm peeved because I feel unprepared. Deena, Anna, and I haven't made a plan about what we're going to talk to him about. Our schedules clash, our communication sucks, and I'm frustrated. I've been calling and leaving voicemails. I've been texting every other day. And here we are, on the day of the meeting, and all of the topics that we can talk to Hunter about are suitable for a telephone conversation. He doesn't need to come meet us. Hell, I didn't have to roll out of bed at an ungodly hour on a Sunday to schlep over to Prospect Park - not when my to-do list is running a mile long.

As I'm seeing those words go up, I'm thinking that I should maybe write this in my private journal. The one that people don't read. The one that won't hurt anyone's feelings.

But I'm not gonna. I'm gonna post it up on here.

Why?

If my therapist asked me that question, I'd probably tell her "no harm, no foul". I've already expressed these sentiments to Deena, and I'll surely express them to Anna sure enough.

What about others' opinions of them? Of us, The Musing Broads?

That's a bit trickier to answer. I fully believe that our actions and words are influential, and that communication is always a form of promotion. There's a reason that people speak the way they speak and use the words they use. It might be because their agenda is to "blend in", or it could be because their agenda is to "seem smart", or it could be because their agenda is to "seem different". Whatever the reason, there is always an agenda.

Right now, though, the agenda of my words is to promote the fact that I'm trying my damnedest to do right by our website. Moreover, I'm trying my damnedest to do right in every other facet of my life. I'm concurrently working on a short story collection and two novels, and looking for freelance writing gigs. I'm job hunting for a 9-5. I'm working my ass off and improving myself as a dominatrix. I'm cleaning and nesting at my new apartment. I'm communicating with professors and writing papers that were due soooo long ago.

And I'm not saying that I'm the busiest person on the planet, or the best, or the one who should get more credit for her actions. What I am saying is that I communicate. I let you know my motives and my goals, I ask if you're down with them, and then I make a plan. I expect people to follow the plan.

I haven't always been like this. In fact, like I've been telling my new roommate, JC, this is a new development. Two or three years ago, I was good at looking like I was meticulous and constantly on the ball - but looks are deceiving. Now that I feel in control of my life and my future and my surroundings, I feel good about things. I don't feel helpless. I don't feel scared. I am fortified with the knowledge that I choose my own problems, and the ones that I have are the ones that I want.

I've taken to cleaning and sorting and scheduling and always being active. Even when I'm daydreaming, I'm doing it actively. I multi-task every chance I get. I always keep in mind how much time I have, what I'm supposed to do, and how much is in my budget. I'm running on almost all cylinders.

And I'm really hoping that I don't annoy too many people in doing so. I don't mean to cause anyone discomfort or distress. Simultaneously, and because I will do almost anything to avoid causing anyone discomfort or distress, I don't give a fuck if I do. I'm doing my best, goddamnit. If I ruffle some feathers, then so be it.

My. Life. Is. So. Fucking. Awesome.

I'm finally making bank as a dominatrix. I'm thisclose to landing a 9-5 that I don't hate. I moved in to a new apartment that is AWESOME, i.e., close to trains, affordable, with the awesomest of awesome roommates, large, and in New York City. My health insurance is kicking in and I get to use it in a couple of weeks when I visit a gyno that's been recommended by a close friend. I can finally start paying off my credit card debt. Wondermazing and HOT men and women are knocking on the door of my pussy. Family and friend ish is working out. Life is good.

Just wanted to brag.

Nope. I don't believe in that.

a·the·ist /ˈeɪθiɪst/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[ey-thee-ist] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
a person who denies or disbelieves the existence of a supreme being or beings.
[Origin: 1565–75; < Gk áthe(os) godless + -ist]

—Synonyms Atheist, agnostic, infidel, skeptic refer to persons not inclined toward religious belief or a particular form of religious belief. An atheist is one who denies the existence of a deity or of divine beings. An agnostic is one who believes it impossible to know anything about God or about the creation of the universe and refrains from commitment to any religious doctrine. Infidel means an unbeliever, especially a nonbeliever in Islam or Christianity. A skeptic doubts and is critical of all accepted doctrines and creeds.

ag·nos·tic /ægˈnɒstɪk/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[ag-nos-tik] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
1. a person who holds that the existence of the ultimate cause, as God, and the essential nature of things are unknown and unknowable, or that human knowledge is limited to experience.
2. a person who denies or doubts the possibility of ultimate knowledge in some area of study.
–adjective
3. of or pertaining to agnostics or agnosticism.
4. asserting the uncertainty of all claims to knowledge.

And by that, I mean "organized religion". I swear I mean no disrespect when I say this, but your religious beliefs? They mean jack shit to me. I think they're idle and useless, and though I will defend your right to recount historically inaccurate texts and speak words into the air, I have no use for those practices.

Yeah, they make you a better person. They guide you. They make you feel less alone. Your entire lineage swears by it and your great-grandparents died for the right to practice it, and it's great. I'm sure it is.

But, ya know what? We are alone. And the fact that someone had to die to be able to practice your religion? It only means that your religion's ass got beat, and that's not exactly a newsflash, since EVERYONE'S religion's ass got beat somewhere down the line. I'm glad you've found a way to connect to an imaginary being; I felt the same kind of awe when I discovered the Ouija Board. But let's face the facts, buddy: this is all just a panacea. A cure-all. A drug. Entrusting your life and decisions to some story is just a way to alleviate yourself of the responsibility of being an individual. Because it's hard to have full responsibility over yourself. It is. You have to have reasons for doing things that go beyond, "'Cause God told me so." And, yeah, who has the skill to pull that off?

Oh, wait. You do. You can decide what to eat and when to sleep and how much time to devote to your spouse. You can figure out for yourself who to trust and who's right and who your friends are. You can experience life and use your own judgment to refine your moral compass. You can decide that it's wrong to kick someone when they're down; you can decide to be kind; you can decide not to be a bitch or an asshole.

If you need someone to tell you this stuff, then you're not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.

NOTE: If you decide what you're about, and then realize that it fits into a doctrine that doesn't resemble an established organized religion, then the preceding rant does not apply to you.

I'm not big on quizzes that supposedly determine something about me. I'm not big on labels, in general, and every quiz seems to be a "look which cliche you fit best!" test. But I'm scouring the internet for potential jobs, and when I took a break to check in with real life, I found this quiz. I love it when a quiz tells me something I already know!

you are deeppink #FF1493

Your dominant hues are red and magenta. You love doing your own thing and going on your own adventures, but there are close friends you know you just can't leave behind. You can influence others on days when you're patient, but most times you just want to go out, have fun, and do your own thing. Your saturation level is high - you get into life and have a strong personality. Everyone you meet will either love you or hate you - either way, your goal is to get them to change the world with you. You are very hard working and don't have much patience for people without your initiative. Your outlook on life is very bright. You are sunny and optimistic about life and others find it very encouraging, but remember to tone it down if you sense irritation.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

More Options

It's strange how quickly things change. One morning, you wake up and it's cold and rainy and you know that it's another season. Fall becomes the present and summer the past, and you witnessed the change but you can't pinpoint exactly when it happened.

That's what my life feels like right now. Everything is different.

Not too long ago, I was working half a dozen gigs, trying my damnedest to earn money from unreliable sources, and taking pride in the fact that every facet of my personality was earning money. I can be respectable and in-charge and academic; so I had a consulting job. I can be unorthodox and willing to show my body; so I had a job as a model-teacher. I can be over(t)ly sexual and sensual; so I became a dominatrix. I can be warm and maternal; so I taught poetry to at-risk youths. I can be creative and spontaneous; so I was a freelance writer for the campus women's center.

I had wrongly believed that I wanted to pimp out my talents and facets in order to earn money. "It's what celebrities do," I said to myself. "They get paid for being themselves."

But in selling these facets of my personality, I felt like a whore, selling my self. I had become adept at comodifying Me, and while I was reaping the rewards, I felt like I was only a product. I wasn't a person anymore.

So here I am, barely working. I'm only holding on to my consulting job, and barely at that. I'm looking for a boring full-time 9 to 5 which will give me time for stasis. I fully anticipate running on all cylinders outside of work - school, writing, and other creative endeavors will take up my time and energy - and I need a boring place to relax and just work.

I know that going back to school will be difficult for me. I haven't been in school for two years, I think. It's been so long that I don't remember. All I know is that I have a lot of work to make up, and I want to get to my peak academic condition. I've totally rearranged my priorities and I've realized that my big problem - one of the reasons that my priorities haven't been what they are now - is that I can't handle the input of authority figures. I naturally resist doing what parents and guardians and police officers and teachers and mentors tell me. I don't believe that it's possible for anyone to know better than me, and when someone says something to me, I automatically believe that it can't be valid or true. Having opinions shoved down my throat only delays the process of embracing that opinion.

I've become very vanilla in a short amount of time, and I like that. I like having so much experience under my belt and not seeming that way. I like having a past that is so colorful and different from the usual past. I take pride in having been a dominatrix and a juvenile delinquent and having done drugs and been a ho and been in fights. Those are extraordinary feats of personality.

But now I want to stretch out in the opposite direction and be more "conventional". I want long-term monetary success. I want stability. I want family. I want academic status. These are all things that mainstream American tells you you should want, and for that reason, I've been rebelling against them. But now I'm embracing them, and I'm not afraid to show it.

Labels are for wusses. History is where it's at. Call me what you want; but if you don't know who I've been, you have no idea who I am.

A typical day at the office.

Rob took these pics of me. I'm kind of upset because I look better in them than I do on the ones that are on the dungeon website, but cest la vie. I figured you deserve to see what I look like, if only to know that I'm not shitting you about being a dom.