el tercer ojo

What do I feel?

This should be an entry to remind myself that at 40 I should know better than to try and set between friends who are either disagreeing or don't like each other.  Especially when I don't know what's going on.  The only thing both people could end up agreeing on is that I should mind my own business.

Why I apparently don't know better and keep making the mistakes the got me in trouble in junior high, why I need everyone around me to get along and to love me are questions that will probably take the next 40 years to resolve. 

I can't muse on my crazy insecurities today. 

Today I'm at work, working in bursts because the mindlessness of my job makes it an easy place to hide..

Today I've turned off my phones and am ignoring my email.

Today I'm trying to find the courage to walk into my boss's office and tell her about the call I just got from my mom.  But I can't do it.  That call which I should have been expecting has somehow ripped a hole in me.   

My grandmother is dying.  She's been going by inches for the past year, but her inches are running out.  At 101 her life is terrible -- even the smallest acts of independence are being stripped away while her mind has stayed horribly alert and aware of every loss.  Over the past year, as it's become clear my nana can never get well, can only decline, I've hoped and prayed for her to pass peacefully.  Dying peacefully is the right thing for me to want here and the kindest and most merciful outcome.  I know this.

But I don't want it and so maybe I haven't really prayed for either.  I'm selfish and I don't want to let her go.  At the worst moments of my life, childhood and adulthood, she's been there for me, making me feel loved as unconditionally as it would be possible for anyone to be.  Her very existence and love for me saved my life, not just once but repeatedly, including one time when I was 10 years old and she confronted my parents about their abuse of me and threatened to take me away from them. 

When I was a child and she was taking care of me, I worried often that she would die.  Back then, 70 seemed very old and she used to play a bit with guilt, telling me when I rolled my eyes at being told to push my bangs out of my face when I read or not to bite my nails that I wouldn't have her to bother me much longer.  One summer when I was 11, the thought of losing her made me burst into tears and in comforting me she swore she would be here with me as long as I needed her. 

That's right.  She loved me me so much and was so distressed at having hurt me by her teasing she swore not to leave until I was sure I could let her go. 

My nana is in Portland -- more than a 1000 miles away from me.  Her weight down to 65 pounds.  She has cancer that's spread throughout her body and for which there is no treatment.  Her younger sister and older brother are both dead now.  Last summer my grandfather, her husband of 70 years, died and left her alone to mourn him.  My mom told me today Nana can't hold down food or water.

She has always been safety and home to me and soon  I have to travel north to say goodbye.  Somehow very soon I have to let her know it's okay for her to go, that I'll be fine.

But I don't believe it.  And selfishly, in my heart, I don't want her to leave me.

"Shoot 'Em Up" Spanking

I'd say I was startled, but the fact is that I knew from a newsgroup post that the spanking scene was there somewhere.

Yesterday afternoon I went to see this comic book - style film Shoot 'Em Up starring Clive Owen (yum!) partly because I like cartoonish violence, partly because Clive Owen was in it, partly because there's a spanking scene. I got to go with with someone into spanking who I know from Shadow Lane -- something fun but also nervous making as I always have a hard time meeting new people (he ended up being a delightful movie companion.

The film was about a B- to C+ (for me, lower for my companion who gave it a D as he's apparently not got my crush on Clive). There were a number of reference to different kinks and fetishes (including breast feeding), but the main spanking wasn't done in a fetish context at all, something which made it ever so nice for me. 

Below this point could be considered a film spoiler so fair warning.

The set up is good -- Mr. Smith (Clive Owen) spanks the woman partly as a diversion -- the pretext is a mother is yelling at her child, smacking him and threatening him with a spanking. Mr. Smith goes over, scolds her for hitting her child and then publicly spanks her about 5 times, supposedly to show her what it feels like. While the spanking is not done OTK, it *is done* in a way those of us who've been smacked in public over clothes might remember.

Short, sweet and worked for me. Not a great film, but getting to watch a spanking in a vanilla film not done to mock the fetish and watching it with a spanking friend was worth the price of admission for me.

Of course the fact I've had spanking fantasies about Mr. Owen since Closer did help.

Shadow Lane Party Report: Hot M/M Action

No, this isn't *really* my party report.  That's becoming insanely long and will probably need to be trimmed hugely.  The fact is I had such a great time that I'm finding it hard to omit a single moment and thus have only made it as far as the vendor fair.

However, as Niki Flynn mentions on her blog, some of the best action occurred in at the suite parties.  Specifically in Cat and Matt's suite on Sunday afternoon (and thank you both again for hosting over and over throughout the weekend). 

So what happened?

Well, a group of us were sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room (seriously this suite was huge -- probably twice the size of our two bedroom apartment).  Said group included Niki Flynn, HH, Bailey, me, Tony Hamilton of Florida Moonshine, Ian (the London Tanner) and his friend the lovely Aurora.  A space had been left when Tony Elka had taken Kate James into another room, so Ian sat down with Tony H on one side and Aurora on the other.

Ian, who is an amazingly great story teller, launched into a tale of some sort.  After a couple minutes, Tony Hamilton's quiet-yet-firm voice interrupted Ian's story with the line:

"...Ian, please."

Tony's tone suggested many things, including "We've talked about this before" or "I've already told you once." 

There was a moment of confusion around the circle.  The story hadn't been about Tony and, even if he had heard it before, he's very polite and it wouldn't have been like him to interrupt. Then we all collectively looked down and Ian cried:

"Oh my God!  Somebody cut my hand off!" 

Ian, you see, had been stroking Tony H's calf and lower thigh as he talked, mistakenly thinking it was the lovely Aurora's (Tony Hamilton has the most amazingly hairless legs -- my envy of either his waxer or genetics knows no bounds).  Further, Ian had apparently been doing this stroking for at least a minute or two before Tony finally stopped him.

As the realization of the action between these two friends sunk in, we all started laughing.  I mean *really* laughing, like in the sense of being unable to breathe.  Ian seemed utterly stunned, sputtering,

"I'm embarrassed, really embarrassed... I'm never embarrassed.  I think I may need to be alone." 

And the laughing continued, most of us starting to have tears gathering in our eyes and running down our faces. 

Ian turned to Tony, as if in accusation, saying "Why didn't you stop me sooner?"  Tony replied, "at first I was surprised.  Then I wasn't sure if I was enjoying it or not and wanted to see how far you'd go.  It was when your hand moved toward my shorts..."

At this point we were all weeping.

"...Ian, please."

I'm sorry kind sirs.  But there's never going to be a time when this tale isn't funny.