My reading list this month is long. In addition to the book I started 3 years ago and still have yet to finish, I had a twist on Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde as well as a Slavery perspective based on relatives in the author's life. Where to start? Well the quick read of book 1 in the Mr. Self-Destruct series, of course.
If you haven't gotten your hands on this book yet, it's for sale through the humorous writer himself, Mr. Joshua Peck. Basically a few years ago after joining an online writer's group I found myself laughing everyday when I'd spy a comment by this young man. In addition he was a self-publishing author and prolific with his work. I couldn't compete so I've sat back and just enjoyed his antics and body of work when I can afford it. Finally a week or two ago he asked little ol' me to give a book review on his work. I've read other stories, but to actually help out such an accomplished gentleman? Challenge accepted!
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde is a story by Robert Louis Stevenson. If you remember from an earlier post I have a special tie to Mr. Stevenson's work. My step-father had the same name and at such a young age as five years old I thought I was about to move in with one of my favorite authors. I bragged at school about how cool my mother was to be marrying Treasure Island guy. The school librarian corrected me, but that didn't stop me from being a long time fan.
Jekyll and Hyde is twist on Beauty & the Beast and now you know how ingrained this tale is and near and dear to my heart. Mr. Self-Destruct starts off by deconstructing the mind of a socialpath with enough open flaws to be thrown away in mental health system for life. It took me on a roller coaster ride through the mindset that is often scary and deals with some dark and tortured subject matter for a single character. It's an original take and successful tackle of this fave story of mine so please stop by and enjoy today.
I'm also finally getting into Seeds of Magnolia by Bill Miller. This subject matter although very important history of people of color, specifically the black community, I find it hard to tackle not only for myself but in general. It spans an ugly time in American history. One that America is unwilling to apologize for today. It seems that especially the government would rather forget that slavery built America and that a lot of people got caught up in this practice without a way out and without knowing what true freedom means. Does slavery still exist today? Yes and that's a bigger problem than just ignoring and playing ignorant to what was happening in this country 200 to 150 years ago.
So how do I move on from slavery? I vote and I practice a religion that speaks to me on a spiritual level. I discuss my own issues from being a victim of sexual assault by writing characters who deal with the same thing. I hope that my writing speaks to other people and helps them with their day. Bill Miller's story is a good one but that mental minefield was already cracked wide open with me and this just adds another layer to consider, how my ancestors were treated back in their day. I'm a third of the way through and it's promise to be an enticing story that hooks a reader is there. I'm just weird about the subject matter so please don't let my progress stop you from grabbing up this amazing story.
Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts
My Shitty Daddy Dom
This is my experience with one person I met on a different site. It is a cautionary tale from my perspective. Take what you need or want from my words and form your own opinion.
Internet based relationships are so common today, I believe people rarely take the time to consider there is a live person, a human being on the other end of that chat ID. Really, I swear, there is. Maybe you know this in theory, but it is something that is easy to forget.
I knew someone who didn't put that connection together. Granted he was a self-proclaimed asshole and stuff like that was why he announced it with pride. I found his view rather douchy and we are no longer speaking to one another.
So, I was going about what I do, which is write porn, when I come across someone who interested me. I observed their postings on a forum and got a feel for them before I made contact. We exchanged a few instant messages back and forth and after about a month we even exchanged phone numbers.
He identified himself as a Daddy Dom and polyamorous. Neither of these identifiers are true of this jerk. He’s on the ‘down low’. He is married, publicly and socially ‘heterosexual’ while indulging in adulterous usually homosexual extra marital affairs according to his own words.
The reason I didn’t see any of this at first is because I’d always thought that ‘down low’ guys were men who were closeted homosexuals, and although not every case is the same, usually what is really going on is they’re self-serving entitled assholes who want their cake and to eat it too without giving any consideration or respect to their spouse.
So, um, sorry about that, but back to my story. Mr. Jerkoff and I talked at length about what his current relationship status was, 'married, but unhappy', where his tastes lie, the particulars, pet peeves, etc. all the things two people getting to know each other discuss.
Something that should have sent up a red flag at the time was the 'married, but unhappy'. I have a personal policy about that one, where if a guy is 'married, but unhappy' I have no intention of moving our interactions to a RL environment. In other words, I will not help you cheat on you partner without their consent. I’m upfront and honest about my rule. I can't be convinced to break it, no matter what someone says or promises me.
Usually, I wouldn't even have gone phone # exchange with a ‘married, but unhappy’, but in this case, I bent my own rule. Mistake number one. In my defense, I liked him. I enjoyed our chats. He stimulated my mind. He appeared vulnerable, yet strong, and our chats were the highlight of my stressful day. I felt as if I could share my thoughts with him easily without fear of judgement. I received such support from him, I let him talk me into going for it, the phone calls I mean. I had to hear the voice behind the words.
So we spoke on the phone and it was satisfying and enjoyable and I let him into parts of me I'd never shared with a single soul, including myself. It was addictive, something I craved, wanted, no needed daily, hourly, every waking moment. Another month goes by and I give serious consideration to throwing my little rule out. Rules are made to broken and he seemed so worth it.
It was a two-way street, I wasn't having a stalker moment at the time. He said all the right things and I truly believed and trusted the words that poured out the tiny speaker of my cell phone. I was happy, he was happy things were great and then, suddenly and without warning he stopped.
The morning greeting via IM just disappeared one day. Out of the blue, just gone. For the first two days, I was like, hmmm, okay, he's busy. He has a wife. Stuff could be happening. Maybe he really doesn't have time to drop me a simple, "Good Morning" via IM. I didn’t know. I continued my morning virtual wave and tried not to let it bother too much.
Then as the end of the first week approached and even the two "Hey, are you okay?"s received no response either, I was worried something had happened to him. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but seriously, I had no information to go on. Finally, frustrated, confused, and worried I broke our agreement and sent the following unsolicited text message to his cell phone, "Are you alive?"
Mistake on my part # 2, was agreeing to that particular rule. I mean, yes, I was chatting and then talking to a 'married, but unhappy' man. I was not allowed to send him a text unless he gave me permission to do so. This sent up a red flag, but like I said, I was already past the point of no return. I liked him that much.
That text message got an immediate response. I was admonished for sending it, as I knew I would be. He was fine, but very busy with work and there was a situation with the wife and he'd call me later that night. Two hours later, he calmed all my fears via phone and I was satisfied with this and we moved forward. This pattern repeated off and on over the course of the next month and finally I was done with it. I told him we could still be friends, but the phone calls stopped.
I did the things I needed to do to protect my fragile heart. I said I was pulling back, I'd gone too far and I didn't even want contact going forward for a while. Only problem with this course of action was I’d gotten something out of it all and I wished we could go back to where we had been months earlier, even though I was the one who’d cut off contact.
Then as if to pour salt into my wound he began publicly flaunting a new relationship on that other website I mentioned. I gotta admit, that hurt me on a level I didn’t understand. Either way, it was an ego bruising harsh reality, but some guys are dicks, not all of them, or even the majority of them, but occasionally you’re going to come across a few.
All of this was the inspiration for the following piece titled ‘Cyber Fuck’.
Cyber Fuck
At first it was me,
That's not true.
At first it was HER,
then it was you.
And I want to understand, I don't want to care. I don't want to hate or hurt or care. I don't need to see, and I see the way you say you would love me. And I want to feel secure. So I open to you. I let you see me. But not all of me. I let you see the lost me. The hurting me. The little girl who needs what only you can be. The loving, safe and secure Daddy. I crawl into your lap and let your arms wrap around me, and hold me. and I open to you, I let you see all of me. The most fragile part of me there is. The part of me that is there to give. The frightened piece of me that no one else is allowed to see.
Then I see HER. I see her, and she's not just one person. She's many women to you. She's your daughter. She's your wife. And I see you love HER. She's your friend. She's your lover. She's your mistress. There's my heart, on display to you. Trusted to you, and only you.
And so I knock at the walls that I've built around my heart. And I let it beat with something it hasn't seen, or felt or even known in years. And then I see you with HER. And I'm missing you, and hurting and then you do this thing. You cyber fuck HER, in front of me. And you know, because I've told you it will hurt me. And that when it hurts me you said it was nothing. That SHE means so little to you, that you're just trying to be a good person, to HER. That SHE needs you. I want to understand that, and not hurt because of it. But I can't. I just can't. Because I gave you more than I knew I had to give. And just like HIM, you hurt me too.
And so SHE comes between us. So I say that I won't care. I try to put the wall back up. And protect the fragile little thing I call a heart. And for a moment, for a second I believe that you really don't mean to hurt me.
Then I see you and SHE. SHE and you. And it hurts. My heart, the thing I know in my head must be protected. Because my body can't live without it, bleeds as you cyber fuck HER.
I bought the bricks today. I won't look, so I won't see HER...And I have a different hope. A new hope. I hope it never hurts again. That I cannot be cut, or slashed, or torn by YOU...
Internet based relationships are so common today, I believe people rarely take the time to consider there is a live person, a human being on the other end of that chat ID. Really, I swear, there is. Maybe you know this in theory, but it is something that is easy to forget.
I knew someone who didn't put that connection together. Granted he was a self-proclaimed asshole and stuff like that was why he announced it with pride. I found his view rather douchy and we are no longer speaking to one another.
So, I was going about what I do, which is write porn, when I come across someone who interested me. I observed their postings on a forum and got a feel for them before I made contact. We exchanged a few instant messages back and forth and after about a month we even exchanged phone numbers.
He identified himself as a Daddy Dom and polyamorous. Neither of these identifiers are true of this jerk. He’s on the ‘down low’. He is married, publicly and socially ‘heterosexual’ while indulging in adulterous usually homosexual extra marital affairs according to his own words.
The reason I didn’t see any of this at first is because I’d always thought that ‘down low’ guys were men who were closeted homosexuals, and although not every case is the same, usually what is really going on is they’re self-serving entitled assholes who want their cake and to eat it too without giving any consideration or respect to their spouse.
So, um, sorry about that, but back to my story. Mr. Jerkoff and I talked at length about what his current relationship status was, 'married, but unhappy', where his tastes lie, the particulars, pet peeves, etc. all the things two people getting to know each other discuss.
Something that should have sent up a red flag at the time was the 'married, but unhappy'. I have a personal policy about that one, where if a guy is 'married, but unhappy' I have no intention of moving our interactions to a RL environment. In other words, I will not help you cheat on you partner without their consent. I’m upfront and honest about my rule. I can't be convinced to break it, no matter what someone says or promises me.
Usually, I wouldn't even have gone phone # exchange with a ‘married, but unhappy’, but in this case, I bent my own rule. Mistake number one. In my defense, I liked him. I enjoyed our chats. He stimulated my mind. He appeared vulnerable, yet strong, and our chats were the highlight of my stressful day. I felt as if I could share my thoughts with him easily without fear of judgement. I received such support from him, I let him talk me into going for it, the phone calls I mean. I had to hear the voice behind the words.
So we spoke on the phone and it was satisfying and enjoyable and I let him into parts of me I'd never shared with a single soul, including myself. It was addictive, something I craved, wanted, no needed daily, hourly, every waking moment. Another month goes by and I give serious consideration to throwing my little rule out. Rules are made to broken and he seemed so worth it.
It was a two-way street, I wasn't having a stalker moment at the time. He said all the right things and I truly believed and trusted the words that poured out the tiny speaker of my cell phone. I was happy, he was happy things were great and then, suddenly and without warning he stopped.
The morning greeting via IM just disappeared one day. Out of the blue, just gone. For the first two days, I was like, hmmm, okay, he's busy. He has a wife. Stuff could be happening. Maybe he really doesn't have time to drop me a simple, "Good Morning" via IM. I didn’t know. I continued my morning virtual wave and tried not to let it bother too much.
Then as the end of the first week approached and even the two "Hey, are you okay?"s received no response either, I was worried something had happened to him. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but seriously, I had no information to go on. Finally, frustrated, confused, and worried I broke our agreement and sent the following unsolicited text message to his cell phone, "Are you alive?"
Mistake on my part # 2, was agreeing to that particular rule. I mean, yes, I was chatting and then talking to a 'married, but unhappy' man. I was not allowed to send him a text unless he gave me permission to do so. This sent up a red flag, but like I said, I was already past the point of no return. I liked him that much.
That text message got an immediate response. I was admonished for sending it, as I knew I would be. He was fine, but very busy with work and there was a situation with the wife and he'd call me later that night. Two hours later, he calmed all my fears via phone and I was satisfied with this and we moved forward. This pattern repeated off and on over the course of the next month and finally I was done with it. I told him we could still be friends, but the phone calls stopped.
I did the things I needed to do to protect my fragile heart. I said I was pulling back, I'd gone too far and I didn't even want contact going forward for a while. Only problem with this course of action was I’d gotten something out of it all and I wished we could go back to where we had been months earlier, even though I was the one who’d cut off contact.
Then as if to pour salt into my wound he began publicly flaunting a new relationship on that other website I mentioned. I gotta admit, that hurt me on a level I didn’t understand. Either way, it was an ego bruising harsh reality, but some guys are dicks, not all of them, or even the majority of them, but occasionally you’re going to come across a few.
All of this was the inspiration for the following piece titled ‘Cyber Fuck’.
Cyber Fuck
At first it was me,
That's not true.
At first it was HER,
then it was you.
And I want to understand, I don't want to care. I don't want to hate or hurt or care. I don't need to see, and I see the way you say you would love me. And I want to feel secure. So I open to you. I let you see me. But not all of me. I let you see the lost me. The hurting me. The little girl who needs what only you can be. The loving, safe and secure Daddy. I crawl into your lap and let your arms wrap around me, and hold me. and I open to you, I let you see all of me. The most fragile part of me there is. The part of me that is there to give. The frightened piece of me that no one else is allowed to see.
Then I see HER. I see her, and she's not just one person. She's many women to you. She's your daughter. She's your wife. And I see you love HER. She's your friend. She's your lover. She's your mistress. There's my heart, on display to you. Trusted to you, and only you.
And so I knock at the walls that I've built around my heart. And I let it beat with something it hasn't seen, or felt or even known in years. And then I see you with HER. And I'm missing you, and hurting and then you do this thing. You cyber fuck HER, in front of me. And you know, because I've told you it will hurt me. And that when it hurts me you said it was nothing. That SHE means so little to you, that you're just trying to be a good person, to HER. That SHE needs you. I want to understand that, and not hurt because of it. But I can't. I just can't. Because I gave you more than I knew I had to give. And just like HIM, you hurt me too.
And so SHE comes between us. So I say that I won't care. I try to put the wall back up. And protect the fragile little thing I call a heart. And for a moment, for a second I believe that you really don't mean to hurt me.
Then I see you and SHE. SHE and you. And it hurts. My heart, the thing I know in my head must be protected. Because my body can't live without it, bleeds as you cyber fuck HER.
I bought the bricks today. I won't look, so I won't see HER...And I have a different hope. A new hope. I hope it never hurts again. That I cannot be cut, or slashed, or torn by YOU...
Confuse Connie Continuation Considerations...
The writer/Muse inside me is always willing to explore the dark, twisted, and shall I say demon
side. What can I say, I consider this my day/night job currently. Through my writing this occasionally manifests in weird, sometimes embarrassing
ways. It is my intention that something I write whether it's a story or blog post will help someone else. Enter the second part to Confused Connie or as it was originally titled, Confused
Connie Again (CCA).
I sat down to edit and repost this story. It was the game plan set forth in my last post and boom, it's a (mind)field. I stopped reading, closed it and decided to process my reaction instead. So today I decided to prepare my Muse for demon psyche battle. I made a cup of coffee, started writing, stopped, played a game on my phone, took a shower and started my day again with a new cup of coffee and my go-to reading for inspiration.
As I mentioned in my last post incest is a taboo topic that I chose to tackle. I posted Confused Connie to Literotica back when I first wrote it. At the time I had some real world issues I was working through with my alcoholic father along with a few other life depressors like unemployment. I hadn’t written Forced to Change. Back in 2010 I’d never thought about publishers let alone known any might one day be interested in my work. So as I mentioned earlier I pulled the story down when I saw an opportunity to transition my art, er, uh writing to mainstream. A chance to finally beat down the unemployment factor that was still playing a vicious role in my life and decision making? Yeah! Woo Hoo! Three months ago my publishers and I parted ways. Oh nuts, here we go again.
As I said, about a month ago I started rereading CCA and I stopped. I have some weird feelings about the writing today, mostly it is not who I am as a writer, storyteller, or even person now. So I can’t decide if I should or more importantly can repost the follow up piece. When I compare and contrast who I am today versus who I was four years ago there are huge differences. I attacked different subject matter, processing my then current issues. This is the challenge of an artist’s Muse. Mine, silly one that she is, freely admits she is dark, twisted, and an undercover sadist in comparison to my being a full blown masochist.
I sat down to edit and repost this story. It was the game plan set forth in my last post and boom, it's a (mind)field. I stopped reading, closed it and decided to process my reaction instead. So today I decided to prepare my Muse for demon psyche battle. I made a cup of coffee, started writing, stopped, played a game on my phone, took a shower and started my day again with a new cup of coffee and my go-to reading for inspiration.
As I mentioned in my last post incest is a taboo topic that I chose to tackle. I posted Confused Connie to Literotica back when I first wrote it. At the time I had some real world issues I was working through with my alcoholic father along with a few other life depressors like unemployment. I hadn’t written Forced to Change. Back in 2010 I’d never thought about publishers let alone known any might one day be interested in my work. So as I mentioned earlier I pulled the story down when I saw an opportunity to transition my art, er, uh writing to mainstream. A chance to finally beat down the unemployment factor that was still playing a vicious role in my life and decision making? Yeah! Woo Hoo! Three months ago my publishers and I parted ways. Oh nuts, here we go again.
As I said, about a month ago I started rereading CCA and I stopped. I have some weird feelings about the writing today, mostly it is not who I am as a writer, storyteller, or even person now. So I can’t decide if I should or more importantly can repost the follow up piece. When I compare and contrast who I am today versus who I was four years ago there are huge differences. I attacked different subject matter, processing my then current issues. This is the challenge of an artist’s Muse. Mine, silly one that she is, freely admits she is dark, twisted, and an undercover sadist in comparison to my being a full blown masochist.
My
hesitations are about the fact that I am forcing myself to revisit some old
wounds in my life. The masochist in me prefers pain spiked with pleasure and this is more pain than anything else. To work on this story I must face wounds which I have closed and healed. For the most part I enjoy writing and never know where it will take me. It is one of my main goals for my life to use my work to do some self-work as well.
I use my writing as personal therapy. That inner work on self is usually reflected in my newer projects. Unfortunately my decision to repost my incest pieces has made me acutely aware of these old scars. So the challenge I’ve inadvertently set forth for myself is to take a long hard look at an old battlefield with new eyes.
I use my writing as personal therapy. That inner work on self is usually reflected in my newer projects. Unfortunately my decision to repost my incest pieces has made me acutely aware of these old scars. So the challenge I’ve inadvertently set forth for myself is to take a long hard look at an old battlefield with new eyes.
Add to
this problem, I stumbled onto Literotica at a time in my life when my target
audience changed. I sought out (Dirty Old Men) DOMs to view my work instead of my trusted friends and family members. Strangers instead of people who know me well. Now that I’m working on the finishing touches to FTC my circle of peeps know how to find my work too. Also the realist in me has hopes of publishing and marketing FTC to yet another type of audience. So I have to ask
myself the question 'is this something I really want to explore and expose
about myself as a writer'. The situation with my now ex-publishers suggests it
is not a good way to go.
This line of thinking may or may not be a good idea as it pertains to marketing to a mass market with the hopes of mass appeal too. I promised
myself to be more honest with myself about six months ago. If I really want the advantage of being
more truthful with myself, the knowledge I’ve gained from processing my demons
and baggage for the sake of my writing I do need to finish what I’ve started.
It isn’t always easy to go over painful events from my past, but processing and
writing them down is self-work that I recognize as a major improvement to my
own creative. I was inspired to this course of action as I mentioned in the following post.
Okay, so since I’m set with my intentions by this blog post. I’ll let you, my dear readers know how it goes by the end of the month. I’m going to pray on it and hope it is the benefit I believe it can be to my writing. If not, comfort food and TV marathons are in my future, while I process the need for another plan of attack for my inner demons, er, I mean my writing.
Okay, so since I’m set with my intentions by this blog post. I’ll let you, my dear readers know how it goes by the end of the month. I’m going to pray on it and hope it is the benefit I believe it can be to my writing. If not, comfort food and TV marathons are in my future, while I process the need for another plan of attack for my inner demons, er, I mean my writing.
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