My parents are increasingly unhappy about my job decision. Whenever I talk to my mom, she brings up Afghanistan with this very worried tone. My father just keeps asking if I’ve had other offers or if I’m still applying to places. It’s comforting to know they care that much, but I really think I’m making the best choice given my options and situation. Of course, this is all assuming I pass the medical exams this week and the security clearance. If I hate the job, I can always keep applying elsewhere after I’ve started work. It’s weird to have my folks vocally worried about me, though, especially my dad. He tends to be quieter and not as emotional, so it was a tad disconcerting to hear his concern.
I had a pretty awesome weekend, which was definitely necessary after this past week. I even got to check another thing off my list – snow tubing! It was really fun, and kind of hysterical given it was about 50 degrees and there was no snow anywhere but on the course. I also made a sort of interesting connection. I learned these friends are both familiar with kink, one is even on fetlife. I also realized these are my most adventurous friends in this area in that they are usually down for going out and exploring town or trying some new activity with me. It makes total sense that the adventurous friends are also the open to kink/kinky ones.
I also went to the Crucible for the first time on Saturday, which was a really amazing time. I learned that forced orgasms are something that may be fun to think about but are better left out of my reality. It was also interesting to compare that space to the Playhouse. I’d say that the Crucible is better if you’re looking for a space to have a scene with dungeon equipment and maybe some public exposure but still want a great deal of intimacy with your partner. The one time I went to the Playhouse was for BBN, and it was much more of a “party” vibe in comparison. Strange to think of a dungeon as refined, but that’s the word I’d use for the Crucible, at least compared to what I thought it’d be.
In other things, I’ve been bit by the writing bug again lately. It started Wednesday in class, when to get through the boredom (nothing like a 3 hour lecture on something you’ve written 40 pages on for another class) and the burst of emotion, I started drafting poetry again. I think the real catalysts to this creative burst were the open mic and the burlesque on Sunday. Whenever I see a really good show, attend a great open mic, etc. I end up writing, singing, sketching, and everything again. These are my lost hobbies, in the sense that I get so busy with school and work that I kind of forget about the right side of my brain. I ended up writing one decent poem and a short story. I might post them at some point, we’ll see. It’s kind of good timing – who knows, maybe if I end up without work for a few weeks I’ll just write a novel (more likely a novella) or something. Why not, right? I wrote 2,000 words in one night, so it shouldn’t be too tough to get 15,000 in a few weeks. I doubt it’d be something people would want to read, but I do like writing. That should be obvious, given this blog.
In the course of a conversation with a friend, I realized I’d been keeping this journal for 15 months. I’ve journaled off and on all my life, but never made it more than 2 consecutive months. I’m sort of amazed that I’ve managed to sustain it for this long. I think, if anything, it’s just a factor of how confusing and crazy things have been over the last year or so. Getting involved with the kinky community has necessitated a non-judgmental place to process. I do better talking through my feelings with friends, but kinky stuff is more private than that would allow most times.
And for a total random note: Getting lost in DC is better than in Pittsburgh since you don’t end up going through a bridge and tunnel and having to go 20 miles before turning around, but worse because you always (if you’re me) end up in shady parts of town between 12-2am. Lesson here is to stop being overconfident about my navigational abilities and surrender to the GPS.