A week in review

This past week has been interesting to say the least. It opened within me a level of introspection and discovery I didn't expect. I'll try to explain.

When the week was coming up, I had all of these ideas in my head. Some of them fantasies, some of them were ideas about how productive I would be with the writing I should have gotten done in the week. I should have gotten all this writing on my dissertation done and I should have gotten more research done. In terms of the fantasy portion, I had these ideas of what I would do with a week with the house to myself. Even though I knew I wasn't going to be trolling Craigslist or anything to have men at the house, I did have some sort of thing in my mind of what that amount of free time would mean. The reality of the week was different.

I found myself on my computer a lot and watching Netflix. I ran typical errands and took care of the dog, but I found myself wanting attention and contact with someone. I wandered down to a New Age bookstore that I had never been to and walked in. A bearish man was paying no attention to me and had his nose buried in an accounting book. So I looked around. I found two books that stood out to me. One of them was "The Path of a Christian Witch", a book that I have almost finished. The book tells the story of a Canadian woman raised Catholic and her interaction and ultimate blending of Christianity and Paganism (I'll talk more about this in a minute). The second book was called "Scared Paths for Men" and had a picture of the Green Man on the cover. I haven't started it yet (it's after a Leatherboy text I'm reading) but it is supposed to discuss rekindling the masculine divinity in a Wiccan world where the focus is almost entirely upon the Goddesses and how to live the masculine in the day to day world. I figure being a submissive gay boy I could relate to the masculine. Anyway...

I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian household. My folks were Bible thumpers who belonged to a very strict sect of Christianity that forbade alcohol, dancing, and women wearing pants (dresses only). You get the idea. Anyway, after I was kicked out of two churches due to being out in a small town I discovered a Unitarian church that had a pagan group. I went to their moon phase rituals in the forests of the southern state I lived in because I felt a deep connection with nature and the ritualistic aspect of what we were doing. I came upon a contradiction, but like being gay and Christian, I sorta wrote some of it off and just did it anyway. When people online would ask (my only connection outside of the pagan group), I'd say I was "Christopagan" which I thought I had made up. Apparently not, as there are books and websites on it now. At the time I had this attraction and infatuation with Pan, the Greek God of the fields, the shepherd, and of fertility and agriculture. Looking back, Pan held a deep connection with me because he came around at a time when I needed him. I was having trouble finding who I was sexually and being comfortable with being a hairy gay boy in a sexually repressed area, religion, and family.

Although the pagan group was totally female oriented and balked at Pan (they felt he was a symbol of the patriarchy, I kid you not) and almost always focused on the Goddess...I ended up doing what I felt were rituals alone in my bedroom. When I moved, I took the mini altar with me but left behind a lot of my books. In the midwestern state I moved to, I had an altar but was not living with people who appreciated it or were accepting, so I didn't practice at all. This was the time in college when I was introduced to the Hindu god Ganesh, and he clicked with me as well in a very different way. As the remover of obstacles and the diety of students and livelong learners, it made sense. But again, I didn't practice, I just read about him a lot, had pics of him I liked and had a statue of him on my mini altar.

Fast forward to this week. After having not practiced or done anything, it came rushing back and I felt drawn to the bookstore. I picked up more sage for smudging, but something was missing. I drove clear across town to the only other "New Age/Occult" shop I knew of and bought an abalone shell and a pouch of tobacco. I went home and smudged the house and myself with sage. It was a very intense experience and the smell of sage quite literally brought me to tears. It all came rushing back in a whirlwind I couldn't control. That night I was sitting at my computer...smelling of sage...and all I wanted was to talk to somebody about what was happening. In many ways I wanted guidance on what to do, what kind of ritual would help get back into it, ect. Sir was going to bed and told me to do whatever felt right and we'd talk about it the next day. Except, nothing felt "right". All of this hadn't been touched or unearthed in me for almost a full decade. I started looking for people I knew online, anyone I knew who identified as a gay pagan....but everyone was either offline in bed, or busy playing games online and didnt want to be disturbed.

I sat on the couch feeling "cried out". I was emotionally worn down. I guess I passed out on my couch because I woke up three hours later lacking any knowledge of what happened to the TV (it was on when I passed out) or why it was now 3am, and I had a searing headache. I crawled in bed, lit some sage and prayed. I just had an overwhelming feeling of being alone tho. I didn't feel anything other than a) I'm doing something wrong and b) I don't want to be alone right now.

The next day I was just...lost feeling. Sir asked me how it went and I told him honestly. I tried the next night and it felt more like prayer with props, but maybe that's how it works for right now. This post has quickly become longer than I thought....

Anyway, the rest of the week (and the time before) was spent reading, watching Netflix and probably drinking more than I usually do. With the exception of the days I did the rituals when I didnt drink at all, I had drank on the other days more than I typically would. Other than the extra calories (which I don't need) it wasn't to excess which was good. Besides, school, work, and people return starting tomorrow night and Monday, so it'll be back to me being quiet in the house, unable to watch or listen to what I want or to play games when I want. And maybe that's for the best.

Alone and left to my own devices, I tend to want connection with others. There was this film called "A Home at the End of the World" which has a poly relationship in it and the way the families we choose change over time. The film touched me on a level few films had because I felt like the main character. There is this touching scene where the main character Bobby (played by Colin Farrell) is playing with an infant and the female lead says "Is there anything you couldn't do?" in reference to his being able to be at home and adapt to so many different life situations. Bobby keeps his eyes on the baby and says "I couldn't be alone..." And that's how I feel. It's not that I need people with me all of the time, its that I feel safest and most comfortable when in service to someone, when I can touch and be touch and feel connected. I'm very much a pack animal in that way I guess.

A pack animal by himself in a big house who is still trying to find himself and his place in the world. I have a trip booked back to the Northeast in November. I miss Sir terribly. It might sound sappy, but even the brief phone call chats or text messages he sends me make my day. I miss him daily, and most of my thoughts and actions are directed at how to be better for him and to make him happy. I hope I succeed at that. I want to go back home to him.

A name, a trip, and the journey.

(I wrote this August 30th but it didn't post for some reason...)

Sir read my post and thought on the idea of a name for me. He came up with one that has a powerful meaning to him and to me as well. I really like it. I won't share the meaning here as it is a bit more personal, but the name is Bailey. I really love it. It fits, and hearing him say it was shiver inducing to say the least. '

I also booked a flight out to see him again in November. It'll be another five day trip. It's going to be a long two months leading up to the visit...

New beginnings

As I write this, I'm about to purge my LJ account. I started the blog in 2001 as a way to get my thoughts and feelings out there, but found myself censoring a lot either because I had friends there who wouldnt understand, or enough personal information about me to not be honest for fear of jobs or schools finding it. Today I move on (for more than one reason, not the least of which being LJ's crappy service and it's death in the realm of social blogging) and will make my posts here.

A fellow pup told me today that even tho I've gone by a nickname for a long time in the furry world, I needed a "puppy" name. I had never thought of this, as honestly, I always answered to boy, pup, puppy, bitch, or faggot as called lol. But my nicknames were not "puppy enough" according to this guy. I don't know if its true. But a part of me loves the idea of being named much in the same way you are given a name in the American Indian tradition. A name that fits who you are, and can change as you change. I might like that very much. Maybe if I find my balls I will ask my Dom what he thinks of such an idea :)

Change and the future

I am writing this with a large glass of wine by my side and a lot of emotions in my heart.

This past week I was on the East Coast visiting my Papabear (previously referred to as the special Dom I spoke of). I've always thought of him as Papabear, but this weekend was one of new beginnings, continued friendships, and hopeful futures. In an attempt to not be sappy and to protect his identity (if he gives me permission, I will expand...but in the end the important thing is the role he plays in my life).

I flew out to the East Coast on a red eye flight from the West Coast. I landed in the morning and took the subway and a commuter rail to the station where he picked me up. The whole train ride from the airport had me nervous...nervous that I'd miss my stop, that when I got to the station it would be as if this was any other weekend for him, ect. All of it was unfounded to be honest. I wrote a significant portion on the flight out there as well as on the flight back, but those are for his eyes only.

The whole trip was wonderful. To be honest, to quote the alien from the movie "The Explorers" it was "the stuff that dreams are made of". What struck me the most from the trip is that it wasn't the sex that I have been thinking of since I got back. Sure, it's there (and was awesome) but it was the other service activities....making Papa's drink, keeping it filled, cleaning and trash type duties, keeping his friends drinks full...ect. He addressed me as boy or pup the whole time, it didnt matter who we were around. I wore his collar, it was wonderful. We reconnected in person which was wonderful and I realized there that I had relaxed to a degree I hadn't in ages.

Everything felt normal and right. I felt relaxed with him, and although I didnt sleep much, I havent felt a lack of stress like that for years. Leaving was hard. I didn't want to leave...I didn't want it to end. Going to sleep at night was hard because I didn't want the next day to come and the current one to end. The thing is...it wasn't like a vacation type thing. When one goes on vacation and you go to touristy things and do "special" things, you expect that it is different than normal life. But the joy of the trip was going to the "normal" haunts, going to the store, having the pals over that come over often to grill...that was what made it special. Because I realized...that life was possible. It wasn't a special thing like when one Honeymoons in Hawaii, it was real life, and it was wonderful.

I don't mean to gush, but he is a handsome bear. He's dominant and strong and has the biggest heart. I felt safe with him, I felt content. Most of all...I felt I was at home. Leaving home was the hardest thing I had to do...and coming back to the "walking on eggshells" life I'm living in my current situation made it all the more difficult. I miss him so much, but I'm hopeful to visit as soon as I can again.

On service and wine

This summer has been very stressful for me due to my school commitments, but something has become very noticeable to me.

I work with addictions a lot in my job. I see people who use/abuse chemicals and people who try something and become addicted so easily. I also then look in my own life and realize that my body has never worked "typically". My liver enzymes go DOWN when I drink (the opposite should be true), even when I smoked a cigar on occasion in my youth or the occasional cig, I never had the "urge" to smoke again. It never became an addiction. Pain medications never worked in my body, they didn't relieve pain OR make me high. Those sort of things. The only drug that ever "worked" for me was alcohol.

While I have not (thankfully) ever become addicted to alcohol or "needed it", I do enjoy alcohol a great deal. Which sometimes crosses over into sexual things. Alcohol loosens me up, it makes me feel less awkward. It allows me to feel comfortable with my urges and desires, and my need to affection and touch. I don't need it to open up or to have sex, but sometimes with the right people it influences the conversation, allows for more honesty, and was a way that I found myself allowing my mind to sink more into submission.

My relationship with alcohol began when I was 17 and visiting a friend's 4th of July party. He was much older (mid 20's) and I was dating a man in his 40s. The mid 20's pal gave me some malted beverage that was like...8%ABV. Nothing happened that weekend other than I found my face flushed a lot when a little alcohol (which went away when I got older). But I loved the feeling. I could not drink much in undergrad because I worked full time just to support myself through school. When I entered graduate school, that changed. I lived with people who had a lot of alcohol, who drank in moderation (or often), and did not tease me, or treat me like I was a bad person for liking alcohol. Previously in my life alcohol had been demonized by religious family or by people who believed becoming drunk was the same as being an alcoholic.

I've never had sex drunk (just never happened), but I've done a lot of solo searching drunk, and here is what I've found.

1. Serving another man alcohol is almost a religious experience for me in submission. To make a man's drink, or fetch him a drink is something I love. It's akin to lighting someones cigarette. It just makes me feel submissive.

2. Drinking alcohol off of another person's body is erotic to me. Them kissing me with a mouthful and pushing it into my mouth, drinking it as it's poured down their cock...that's aces.

3. I dig watersports, and boozing helps that happen as well as dilutes it to make it more palatable.

4. I'm a happy, playful puppy when im tipsy. I rarely get sad when drinking, and while I have drank to numb before, its not something I like.

I purchased something special for the dom im visiting in August. I think he'll like it. It's a special booze that I'm hoping he will let me mix up for him. We'll see.

Blowpony - Pride 2011 Edition

Last night the roommate and I went out to BlowPony, the queer party held once a month in our area. Being Pride weekend, it was huge. We were personally invited by the man who runs it because he wanted us to go in mascot outfits and dance, which we were more than happy to do. It was fun. Mostly women dancing up on me which reaffirmed that I'm gay. The night really didn't end how I would have imagined/dreamed it would though.

I was on my knees a lot out of suit helping my roommmate in and out of his outfit, which that was nice. I forgot how good it felt to help take someones boots off for them. Too bad that's where it ended. Oh well. That's why I'm the sidekick.

I haven't updated this in a little while and something very important to me happened that I felt was spot on to go in here.

The special dom who I sometimes mention here gave me an assignment and while I won't put the details in here until I know he is cool with that, I was pretty stoked to say the least. More than stoked really. It has brought up a surge of feelings within me though, some of which are new and some of which are a little scary. The new things involve chastity where its not simply a "I'm going to hold off jerking for a while to make the end result more powerful". My history of chastity is slim despite having wanted to do those things for a long time. A lot of that is I never understood other subs I knew who would buy their own chastity device and simply wear it "just because". It wasn't that they bought it, it was that they were wearing it simply to wear it. That takes a lot of it's magic away to me. It's like wearing a collar that you bought just to wear it. Sure, it can be fun and fashionable, but it doesn't have the meaning or power it does if someone else puts it on you.

I'm not afraid I will fail at the task. I have the will power to keep my paws off my junk and the like. My fear is that I will ask for too much, or request too much attention. It's something I need to work on. Part of it is because every power dynamic, even between the same people is different from time to time. I have friends who the Masters who hold their contracts/leashes want to know where they are and what they are doing at all times. Other subs I know have masters who only want them when they are horny. I think most people fall into the middle somewhere. I don't know where (if anywhere) this assignment or meeting in August will lead things. Maybe no where, maybe somewhere. Regardless, I am going to stay in the moment, do my best, and try to make him proud. I'd love for it to go to something longer term (not specifically the chastity, tho that has been fun too), more of the over all power dynamic.

Oh yeah, and it makes my already high 26 year old libido even higher, which is aces. ;)