Combichristmas 

Confessions fell on Xmas this weekend and I wanted to do something special, fun, and only tangentially related to Xmas. 

While playing The Crystal Rose on Friday I made a comment about wanting to do an all Combichrist set some time. Frenzy egged me on ( ❤ ) and I jokingly declared Combichristmas. 

Then I stopped joking because it actually sounded wonderful and just what I needed. 

We had an incredible turnout, a lot of fun, and I totally failed to take pictures. Between blacklist being amazing and some other things I had a bit of a happy cry near the end. 

I need to fix a glitch at the beginning of the recording but I’ll get that up soon. Not sure I can use mixcloud for it. 

I made a banner though so… 

I’m wondering if I should split blogs…

Consider this a rare request for feedback. In ‘waking back up’ this time I’m noticing a lot more confusion in my brain. This is sort of normal for me when I come out of a depression. 

My depression largely presents itself,  internally, as an avoidance mechanic. I shut down, as I’ve mentioned, and try to shut up the voices in my brain for awhile. Now that I’m back to ‘me’ all that stuff I locked down is coming up in my brain. 

Let me say that I’m actually feeling really good for the most part. Life is 80% good stuff right now and I feel alive and awake and loved. But writing is how I figure out the inside of my head, so that’s what ends up here. I’m just not sure that it belongs here. Nominally, this is my SL blog. I don’t separate my online life from my offline life that well so the two cross-pollinate constantly. 

That said, I’d be fine splitting off my mental work to another blog. Should I? 

A lovely little moment… 

Last night I was  tired and a little morose. I dressed up to make myself feel better and spent time talking and dancing and flirting. 

But on going back to meat space,  I still needed some comfort. So I asked Bippy to come pet me. Her past involves being a sadistic domme, so my weird pet nights always feel a little like I’m imposing on her even though I know she enjoys taking care of me. Part of my whole fear of being myself and seeming needy. 

She pet me and teased a bit, but I had to be up early at 3am today so nothing further. This exchange pretty much explains me, and how loved I am:

Me: I know you don’t really get this whole part of me in some ways. 

Bippy: Of course I do. You’re a kitty cat. 

Me (sort of stoned on affection): What? 

Bippy: You run off and then come back for attention, so I try to be there when you want to curl up in my lap and get pet. 

Me: Yeah… But sometimes it’s pet me and sometimes it’s chase me and pet me and sometimes it’s chase me, catch me, and fuck me. 

Bippy: But sometimes it’s chase me chase me chase me and then you bite me. See? Kitty cat. 

*** A few minutes later where I’m latched onto one of her arms while being pet by the other and making little happy noises laced with frustration as I try to arch and bump my neck into her hand for attention. ***

Bippy: You’re about to bite  me aren’t you? 

Me: *frustrated little growls as I try to get her to scratch me neck without talking, burying my face in the mattress and her shoulder* mmmmf. Trying to get you to scratch my neck… 

Bippy: *soft laughter before she does so. *

That was the end to the night. Sure, I was obviously in the mood for more but she knew I needed sleep and, when it comes down to it, 80% of the time I’m as happy being cuddled as being deliciously abused. 

Moments like this are the best part of my waking world, outside the dreamlike ramblings of my online life. 

Those things that break me… 

Pardon me if I stumble here. This one is sort of hard to explain and I’m not sure how I’m going to.

By natural inclination, I’m affectionate and open. It’s my experience and emotional armors that make me push others away. Being myself is usually incredibly frightening. I feel the most myself when I share the happy parts of myself with others, and sometimes the awful things come out into the light that provides and they’re less terrible for it. I’ve been in my real life triad for over a decade now and if it ended tomorrow it would be messy and hurt like hell, but I already know I’d still be happier for having had it. Having crushes and cuddling and just being close to people are the same way. I’m more myself in sharing happiness and affection than at any other time in my life. It’s like coming out of the dark into a beautiful early sunrise, before the world and its worries have a chance to take hold.

It usually ends, sometimes horribly and sometimes with pain, but the brave and clean and lovely feeling of baring myself in a way that goes beyond the physical does my soul good. I carry the warmth and strength of it with me long after the fires of destruction smolder to bare embers. These things don’t break me. They make me better, even when they fall apart.

What breaks me is friendship. I build friendships slowly. My close friends take the spot most people save for family. Frenzy is family that way. When I know she’s hurting it cuts into my heart. When she’s acting self destructive I feel weak and failing that I can’t help her, even if I know it’s not mine to do.

It gets worse when someone I think is a friend hurts me. If it’s malicious then I cut off that line and I figure out how to continue. It’s even worse, for me, when they hurt me through just not seeming to care. I care about them and I hold a lot of my self worth in those relationships. If I cut them off, I’ve abandoned them. I’ve left them to burn in their own pyre. I’m a monstrous uncaring thing because they almost always react with pain and hurt and reasons. I have to listen it, and I still have to do it because being close to someone who doesn’t care while investing my heart in them wears me down. I wonder if I deserve it and I feel weak for not only staying with them but for even the dark thoughts and loneliness that come with it.

So I give chances when I shouldn’t and hope beyond hope that I can be strong enough to demand they stop doing the things that hurt. If I can let them make their decision in every way without compromising myself and letting myself be hurt. If I can stand feeling like a monster when I call them on how much they hurt me and refuse the half truths and excuses and just hope that the person in those eyes actually does care, and that they’ll finally be honest, and be a real friend again.

It almost never works. I usually get hurt even worse in the end accounting. But I hope and I dream and I give the chance, because shutting myself off from those chances would really break me. I’d wonder for months if I had done something wrong. I’d be tempted constantly to try again. I need that last chance at closure to break it off and not feel ill.

I end up feeling like I’m dying inside either way though. There has to be a better way.

I don’t want to date you, but I’d love to fall asleep in your arms.

One of the things I sometimes rant about is the 150 gender distinctions pushed by a small fraction of the tg/genderqueer community. If you want someone to accept you for who you are and present a united front as a community, I think separation like this is awful. 

I’ve come up with something where I feel like I need more words though, and that’s weird for me. There are people I care about. Usually a care built over time, but sometimes it comes on like a quick winter storm. I like them and I’m attracted to them. I want to curl up with them and cocoon in their arms and release the little vulnerable parts of my soul to play with them. 

I don’t want them to be mine, and I don’t want to date them (even in a poly sense)  but I want to have them in my life and be with them. It’s someplace between a crush and the feeling of finding family you didn’t realize you had. Why isn’t there a word for that? 

Oddities and emotions 

There’s this thing I do under high stress. It’s not healthy, and I should know that, but I do it anyway. 

I start shutting down the parts of myself that hurt. I have a pretty deep seated well of resentment and anger inside me. There are reasons. They’re good ones, but I thought of myself as a monstrous little thing that lashed out at people if  left to my own emotions. 

I hurt people I cared about and my reaction was to stop reaching out to them. To this day, under stress, I’m scared to reach out. I don’t think people will be there and, once I get rebuffed, I sort of curl up into this isolated little ball that will listen and reach out to people to help them but keep all my pains as close and protected as I can so I won’t hurt people and so I won’t be hurt. 

Of course, that means that I’m hurt and stressed and not taking comfort and letting others hurt and stress me more without saying anything. It’s a vicious cycle type thing that can go on for months. 

If anyone has wondered where I’ve been until recently, that’s the explanation. 

I’m finally out of it. When I come out, I essentially have skin hunger. It’s not a need for sex, but this overwhelming drive to reconnect with people I care about. Since my expressions of that are, when I feel safe, very physical I turn into a cuddly little toy of a person. 

I’ll be honest. I love it, and the people I connect with during it keep that kind of affection from me. There’s a reason I want to connect with them. I’m just free to express it. In SL with all of the odd relationship permutations,  it makes me nervous because I’m always afraid I’ll be misread or that I’ll hurt someone’s feelings because I cuddle up with ‘their’ sweetie even if it’s not sexual. I’m trying hard to ask the questions I need to this time and then just be myself. So far, it’s kind of amazing. 

Have some lovely cuddle pictures. There will be another update soon. 

Catch Up (Part 2)

In our last episode, Eri was sleep deprived and a little unhinged. None of that has changed, but there’s fun things to talk about too! 

First, Fitch asked me to do an ongoing gig at The Crystal Rose, her steampunk bdsm airship. I’m calling Darklight Theater, and it will run the 2nd and 4th Friday each month from 7-9 SLT. These are not going to be of the cuff freestyle sets like I do for Confessions at The Blacklist. These will be assembled sets going after a particular style or theme. 

I’m most of the way done with my stage set for it, and I’m working on the first music set.

On non-dj things, I’ve been talking about rebuilding sanctuary for awhile. I was looking at building a cave network, and placing different chapels beneath the main church. 

Well, that changed in the past week. I started building a ‘home’  area for friends in another sky box. I use these little doors with portals for my teleporters. In linking my places together, I started really liking the idea of logically linked space. That lets me justify my oddly vertical space. I may go that way. 

The other option is a mix of horizontal and vertical building, the church on a small bit of land by a cliff face with a small cave that will house my safe space and then a floating island that will hold the ‘family’ area. This is the way I’d like to go but I need to find land for it. 

Sorry I’ve been so quiet… 

I know I haven’t been posting much and my Flickr has been quiet as well. I’m going to try to bring things a little more up to speed here. 

First of all, I’ll get the crappy stuff out of the way. I’m suffering massive insomnia again, sleeping 3 hours a night a lot and not at all others. My bipolar stuff, diagnosed when I was a teen, is cyclical and triggered by stress and other factors. We’re doing the seasonal change and I can’t sleep and combined that’s basically made me a big neurotic ball of out of control emotion. The more out of control I get the more I want the comfort of being controlled so I’m cycling between anger and weepiness and not exactly horniness, but a desire to play and snuggle up and maybe get held down and – you get the idea. 

There are some odd upsides to it. I’m less in control so I’m not as guarded. Partly as a result of that and partly because I’m incredibly lucky at times I’ve made some new friends, especially Rawrski and Dillon and I’ve reconnected with Eclipse Avora which makes me incredibly happy. 

For the same reason, I’m more creative in this mode. It’s not that I have better thoughts, but that the part of me that acts as watchdog for getting hurt by them is weaker. I’ve been writing really bad songs nobody will ever see because the thoughts have to go somewhere. But when I used to actually write the theory was that practice matters. Anything is better practice than nothing. 

I’m also weirdly more accepting of how I DJ lately and I think it’s showing. I did a guest set at the lovely Crystal Rose recently that may be one of my favorite sets I’ve done. It’s really really neat to see how the on the fly stuff I do Sundays translates to building sets. 

I have more news, but this is getting long. I’ll make another post soon for in world updates, but big awesome news. 

Insecurities and Idiocy

There are basically two things that anchor my time in SL:

I spend time working on my own looks and my home as an odd sort of therapy. This is mostly shopping and instinct that I look into afterwards to figure out the emotional or logical links around to build them out further. I get nervous about how others perceive it, but since it’s 85% an internal exercise I don’t fret too much.

The other thing is my weekly DJ set. Confessions has been running for months now at The Blacklist and it draws a crowd I really enjoy most weeks. They seem to enjoy it too, and I have an absolute blast every single week. Oddly, that’s the problem. I don’t think I’m a great DJ. I think what I’m actually good at is creating a social atmosphere. As a technical DJ I play heavily to my strengths and spin thing I love, refusing to follow a set genre or even play a set as I originally put it together. I treat the whole thing as a way to expose myself emotionally and mentally without having to talk about it and I think that ‘joy’ of flying through the sound carries over to people listening.

But it’s like any other time I expose myself. Deep down I’m nervous and scared at the beginning of every set. I don’t really understand why people think I’m worth coming to see. I’m horrified that I’m going to go too far and commit the musical equivalent of over sharing and make everyone uncomfortable.

My technical skills are nowhere near those of some of the DJs I’m lucky enough to consider friends, like London or Keliana, and when I wander close to what they tend to play I always feel like I’m trying to pretend I’m not faking it.

At the same time, I’m getting better but I feel like if I ever do reach their level of polish I’ll lose something of what makes it work for me as self expression.

Really, it’s another presentation of the same feeling of disconnect I have with every community. I’m close enough to fitting in that we can mingle, but I always feel like I’m two steps from exposing something deeply broken that will run those relationships for good.

People keep telling me I’m good at this. I just wish I felt like I was as good as they seem to think. Until I do fuck up horribly though, I’ll still be there every week screaming at the world with music because it’s a joy and a safe way to share myself with people I love.

Fake it ’til you make it, right?

Perception and Expression

There’s a strange thing about online life. Because you literally create yourself from the ground up, you don’t have that odd disconnect between first impressions on sight and the people you meet. Almost everyone in SL is nice looking to some degree just by default and their outside says something about the person inside the shell.

It lets you live in a space where things you can’t really express effectively in ‘meat space’ become easy because there’s no automatic preconception about who or what you should be, except for the ones you choose to present. Real side, I have a lovely triad that includes a TG girl. She’s had a rough life fighting these perception issues and I can’t imagine having had to fight like that to exist.

My life has been easier in this regard. I’ve never had massive gender dysphoria because, at a fundamental level, I’ve just never understood gender the way others seem to. I’ve never really felt like I was female. I’ve just never thought of myself as male either except by default. My ideal image would be me with a body that somehow let me express myself freely. Now, I’ve talked with my rl partners about it at times but Cricket, the TG partner, has issues understanding the idea of gender as just another play space for me to work out things I actually care about because she’s fought so hard to define her gender space. Bippy, my other partner, is accepting of it but doesn’t really get it in a lot of ways.  She just sort of nods and moves on.

My inner struggle has always been between being who I want to be and the twin poles of anger and conformity. I’m at a personal place where I express myself regularly. I go to work with odd hair and painted nails. I wear women’s jeans when I feel like it and sometimes femme vests. I do this consciously. In part because it makes me comfortable and partly as a dare to the world to fuck with me over it.

In SL, I largely hang out with TG communities. Truthfully, I occasionally feel like a fish out of water there too. They have bodies that feel ‘right’ to them. I have tentacles and horns and hyper pale skin because I’ve always felt a little monstrous inside and those are what make me feel ‘right’. Visual and physical cues to my self image that I never have to go into long discussions about.

image

Just me and the kraken. Two of a kind, watching eachother through the glass.

I don’t like those discussions in general. They make me feel self-indulgent and weak and oddly greedy and uncaring for essentially emotionally bleeding on people. But in SL I can just be myself and everyone can pull from that what they want and, because there’s no preconception of how I should act because of appearance or work, it works. I can interact with people without thinking about social or financial consequences to me or those I care for. That leaves me free to just be myself with them. It’s freeing and amazing and the acceptance bleeds back into the real world and makes it easier to try to play with myself there too.

Sometimes though, I really do wish I had someone I could curl up with and cry and whine about all the things that make me so tentative and careful because I’m really just hoping nobody notices the little monstrous bits aren’t just skin deep.