Spent 11 hours in the Kaiser ER after leaving rehearsal early yesterday evening.

Just got home.
 
In the intervening 11 hours I had the joy of....

• 2 doses of morphine.
• 1 pelvic exam.
• 2 ultrasounds.
• 1 SUPERDUPER ultrasound (for which some on-call specialist was called outta bed)
  

Current assessment:
 
The good news is I do NOT have a septic infection, torsion in my ovaries, an ectopic pregnancy or any signs of endometriosis.
 
The shitty news is that I have a ruptured "Simple hemorrhagic ovarian cyst" that had leaked fluids into the area of the abdomen that surrounds the uterus.
 
The additional (and IMO, shittier)  news is that I have two more cysts that have NOT ruptured.
 
One of them is 3 centimeters by 5 centimeters. The other one is "smaller" but because they are kind of squashed together I guess the boundaries aren't clear or some shit.
 
So I'm on bedrest for 3-5 days with painkillers.  Now, the NP said I should be able to do minimal low-exertion stuff outside of keeping the meds up till the abdominal fluid resolves.

And I thought the nasty fall on Pride Saturday was bad.

This is not the way to open tech week for a musical, kids. I'm not on top of the world.
 

SO today, I'm 40 years old.

What.

The.

Hell.

Please feel free to leave awesome birthday wishes and remind me why getting old is cool...?

My (then) boyfriend and me in Costa Rica. An amazing trip we took as a result of me winning the grand prize at the Company Holiday party. So much magic!

Me at the Folsom Street Fair. Photo by Howard Schatz.

Yesterday afternoon I was walking through the lobby of the Beyond Leather host hotel here in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

Not long after teaching my second class of the day, I found myself in an intriguing exchange with a dashing salt-and-pepper haired gentleman of British extraction. He was holding my hand and pressing his lips to the back of my hand. He'd been gazing admiringly at me as I crossed the lobby, and when he'd initially spoken, I thought he was taking the piss. See, in the class I'd just been teaching I had mentioned I had a particular weakness for accents.  I thought this might be a bit of a flirtatious gambit. That was fine actually. This was day 2 of Beyond Leather and I'd had many conversations in passing and some of the more silly ones had involved quite a bit of mental jockeying and word play.

This particular flirtatious ex-SAS Englishman and sadist had no of way of knowing he had scored a few points on my personal "WIN!" list.  As he smiled at me, I was certainly intrigued. He asked if I was going to be playing that evening.  I was, for the first time in 13 months of national Leather Events, able to say "Yes, in fact, I do have a play date about which I'm very excited!"

He mentioned that he, too, would be playing. And even offered the approximate time and location of the scene he would be conducting. For those not familiar with typical Kink Scene interactions, this is about as big a "flirt and flex flag" as a top or dominant can wave when in this situation. 

See, I don't know this dude from Adam. But inviting a bottom to watch you play demonstrates a modicum of confidence in displaying your skill, inviting them to check you out, so that they then have a common point of reference with regard to your play style.

And he seemed to be very interested in watching me play.

 Kissing my hand again he lamented aloud "Ah, well...would that you were submissive!"

 I sighed. 

 "Actually, I am."

 His gaze focused.

He smiled.

Yeah so.  

Presumptuous?

Perhaps. 

As my long time friend Bailey pointed out, this may well have been a "fish" for information.  There are infinite ways of information gathering with a potential play-partner.  By veering for this tack, he then had the opportunity to gauge my reaction to his question. The level of enthusiasm or dismissal can provide a great deal of information.

Though I was certainly at least interested in such an opportunity to observe, I don't often commit to multiple scenes in one night. I tend to go pretty deeply in playing and need to have that focus.

But I gave him my card. He clarified his interest in learning more about me.

One never knows.

One might not know, but if you are me, you do often have "knowing."

Oddly, I'd had a very strong feeling, a few days ago, that the playdate to which I was so looking forward wouldn't materialize. But I had no real  reason to think that I would miss out of that opportunity. I mean, this had been planned in advance, there were THREE days in which to have plenty of flexibility, somewhere in there a scene could be arranged at sometime, yes?

Yes.

Of course.

Or no.

I'm not of a mind to divulge my friend's personal shit. I can say that, despite good intentions and despite my limited expectations, things derailed. And derailed badly.

A personal issue came up for my friend. He had to go deal with this in his own way. He understandably needed some space. I sent a series of text messages to check in as I was not at all sure what had happened. I did receive a bit of information from him which lead me to believe that yeah, something was uncool, but no emergency situation was unfolding.

I was disappointed but didn't wanna be selfish. Gotta let go of expectations, yeah? And probably this would resolve later.

I also was not, to be honest, convinced that I would let a distant situation derail me from enjoying something I wanted.  There is a lot that happens in life over which you have no control. But you do have control over your reaction to these troubles. I know for me, I loathe the idea that some fuckery deprives me of joy. Life is too short.

I caught up with Bailey. We chatted up some girl talk and caught up while I tried to not take any of this crap personally, to see if possibly this could be salvaged. I didn't want to bug my erstwhile play-partner. He wasn't in a great headspace, and needed personal time. And if, in fact, this situation was so vexing his headspace wasn't in playing, well...so it goes. There was still Sunday...

I didn't hear back after several messages and a voicemail. SO, I went to ground and just tried to relax. I really didn't feel like going to the dungeon and watching all of these people enjoying, once more, everything I was, once again, denied.

Then my phone rang and I was advised by a mutual acquaintance that my date had come out of his funk and, it seems, was cheering himself up by scenening with someone who was not me.

Let me say I was not in a graceful place upon receiving this news. Walking in to the playspace and confronting the situation was, for ME, out of the question.

So I lay in bed sobbing and feeling like absolute shit.

Once again, I wasn't enough, I was disposable, and I could be pushed aside in favor of someone else.

Regardless of whether or not this is true, this was how I felt.

Things were tangled and unhappy and only became more so after my distraught posts to Twitter were read by some people who were here at the event who, after offering me sympathetic support, conveyed to my anticipated play-partner that I was...not happy.

Interestingly, once he did contact me and came to my room (at my invitation)  to talk, his affect was angry. Evidently my own expressions of upset were seen as an attack on his character.

I wasn't in a good place to have my own disappointment and battered ego confronted with his backlash. So I took a series of deep breaths and let him explain his side of the story. It was convoluted. And I have zero reason to think it was a lie. But my feelings have a right to be respected.  And he fell down in the chain of communication by not responding to me.

I had to do something I have an absolutely difficult time with, and that was to make clear I thought there had been a failure. On his part. On a very basic level.

I know that life intrudes. I know that slings and arrows and sticks and stones and all of these things can belay even the best laid plans.

And I believe also that how one handles stress and storms is even more important than how one lives in smooth situations. 

We all make mistakes. And sometimes those mistakes wound and slice the emotions of others. And at that point the only thing you can do is to take responsibility for your actions and reactions to this stress.

As I have a promise made to myself many years ago not to sleep on anger, we talked through my feelings, my reaction, his view of the situation, etc.

I can say I am proud of myself for remaining grounded by my emotional truth. I did not cave in to my reflex to "Let it go." I weighed what forgiveness I could give him and what was just too much. I let my compassionate nature soothe my nerves and to trust that I was making concessions in the right place and standing firm in others.

And in the morning I did receive the apology that I needed to have that piece of responsibility acknowledged.

Today is a new day.

In these Leather Event situations, when you are in high profile mode, you certainly don't have time to be a mopey shithead when you are a presenter.  And especially when you are me.

I had to publically interact with my friend, our very new truce in place. I will pat myself on the back again for handling that.

Though I certainly have no love for feeling like refried shit and having to suck it up and repair damaged friendships, I learned that I have the capacity to be strong and also to handle my shit with some dignity.

I also am proud that I held fast to my personal standards and not cave in to loneliness and desperation for play and pain and affection when it wasn't offered on terms that I could accept.

I have compromised before.

I have felt what that is like.

I have let people have what they wanted of me and leave the rest.

I know what that feels like.

I am not enthralled with the sensation of standing firm and holding fast to my core values and still feeling alone and lost. But I have to do this.

If I settle again for crumbs, delicious and tempting as they are, I will be left alone. Again.

See, the thing about compromise for me is this: if the other person gets everything that they wanted and I get some of what I want, I will soon find myself with an emotional deficit I have no way to close.

But I held my shit together. I had friends call and write and offer their love.

And someone does want that, can handle, is worthy...and someone will care with the capacity and focus that matches my own.

So tonight I will lie low, I think. I am not of a mind to be used and played and then left behind.  Sometimes that can be very sexy. Not so much tonight.

And I have been invited back to Beyond Leather 2010, which is, for me, quite an honor. I heard I received universal glowing reviews. I can stand alone there too. That is all me, absorbing, distilling, filtering and serving up my life, my essence, me.

Talking about Dark Odyssey (with special thanks to  native guide Naiia, who was often naked as native guides should be) he mentions some of the presenters and friends there:

• Lochai & K
  
• Barbara Carellas
• Dossie Easton
• 10
• Steve Morgan
• Calico (his super-awesome demo bottom)
• Tristan Taormino & C
• Sarah Sloane
• Ayem Willing
• MOLLENA!! (whom he has a bit of a crush on, as well as devious, devious plans…)

I had occasion today to enjoy a quiet moment in a hotel room high up above the city, idly gazing upon a broad swath of terrain from the cold blue of the Bay to the fog-lapped crests of Twin Peaks.

Meandering thoughts mostly disconnected...some deceptively so...were doing their best to distract me from remaining in the moment.

I was exhausted from the previous night.  Thursday was the opening ceremony and show for the International Ms. Leather Contest, and I'd spearheaded a campaign to have my employer represented by sponsoring one of the many "Receptions" that this event offers to attendees. This is a fairly low-bandwidth way to do Community Outreach among the Leatherfolk, and as one of the handful of kinky people at my company, I'm in a unique position to cross the streams, so to speak, and have my day-job find its rightful place in the BDSM community.

However, I hadn't anticipated being physically exhausted and having a voice-over recording that same day. It was going to be a pretty exhausting end to the week, and I was near tears several times on Thursday.

Ain't nothing like being in the midst of Bloody Abdominal Injustice while having to haul around cases of water and wine and bags of snacks.

Thankfully I had a co-worker (Yaaaay!) who was also volunteering at IMsL, and she was there to keep things going.

Somehow, we did it.

Of course, we had everything set up and ready to go, free schwag primed, and then...no one showed up.

We sat for 10 minutes, 25 minutes.

A few people trickling in mentioned that the opening show was still going, and that many attendees were still there, and that was why the reception wasn't filling up.

But when it did, boy howdy, did it ever!

Old habits die hard and I snapped into the smile-on-the-face-super-attentive-chatting-and-laughing-party-hostess...make sure the cheese is out and the chips are there and the bottles are open and there is enough wine and cheese and...and...and...

Fret not. We rocked it. Everyone was pleased.

Several people who had joined me for my recent class on "Race Play" were in attendance, and took a moment to tell me that not only did they think the class was important for the community, but that they were personally grateful, to me, for doing it.

Their timing couldn't have been more critical, because not long before that I'd learned of some less-than-optimal reactions that some people are airing publicly.

People who don't know me, who haven't heard what I have to say. Or, in one case, someone who took my words and torqued them into a most damaging and fearsome misrepresentation of my reality.

And then we have the nauseating nadir: people who openly threaten violence if they ever were to walk into a play party and see a race play scene happening.

Pardon me if I take this shit personally.

It is tough enough to find play-partners because I am a shy freak and exceedingly picky, selective and intimidation resistant.

And now, am I supposed to tell a prospective play-partner than he or she may be subject to rude speech, threats of confrontation or even physical assault simply for playing with me?

Really???

Well, it is convenient then that my play partners tend to be really...really big! And trained in martial arts and strapped with stun guns...and with sharp pointy teeth...so there! 

Sigh.

Yes, I acknowledge that it may be bluster and bullshit.

But the more I sort through this, the more I wonder what the fuck is up with my fellow perverts.

I wonder what about this not uncommon fantasy it so dangerous it drives people to threaten physical violence.

And I wonder why none of these people actually care to be open, and interact with me.

No, I know why.

It is easier to scream from your perch of fear than it is to try to settle in and confront your own demons on someone else's terms.  Because I think differently than others, and there is a chance you might see me as human, your Comfy Throne of Righteous Indignation now teeters on the edge of reason.

Is it so hard to empathize?

I'll say it here and loud and clear.

If you hear some crazy bullshit about me, and you aren't sure whether or not it is accurate, you know who the fucking authority on Mollena is?

OK, aside from God...

Ya, that would be me.  I've been stuck in here for almost 40 years:  I know my way around, and I give frequent tours. Stop and and have a cup and I'll tell you what is going on, OK?

As I stood behind the improvised bar at the party, I managed (I think) to be welcoming and I smiled and introduced myself to as many people as I could. Many old friends were there, and it was lovely to catch up. Hopefully no one could hear my insides whimpering and feeling clumsydumboutofplacecrampyexhaustednervous and anxious.

At one point I overheard and adjacent conversation in bits and starts. There were several Black woman gazing at me intently, and I overheard "Mo Williams..." and "Yeah, she did the "Race Play Class..." and I tensed up. I couldn't tell from their expressions what their take on that was. 

We were formally introduced and they said that they were sorry to have missed the class, and that they had initially planned on coming to see it, but couldn't make it. Thing is, they aren't local. They were planning on coming form Canada to see the class. I confess I was very taken aback and nervous. I had wild fantasies of a squad of Black Domme Avenging Secret Agents sent to take me out for setting back the evolution of our people.

But that wasn't quite it.

I chatted with them a bit, and as it was a rather loud and busy party, it wasn't conducive to a more private discussion. But we made a date to chat for a bit the next day.

I hope to talk further, possibly, about working with these folks in terms of BDSM oriented education.  They had done their homework and had some really provocative questions for me about my classes, my approach, myself.

Plus, damn, they are so cool!

But something else....it was a new sensation for me. With all due respect to all of my friends of all ethnic and racial backgrounds, something new has happened for me in the past few months. I am experiencing  a strong redemption for me in having other Black Women REALLY SEE ME and tell me I am OK. I spent almost an hour re-connecting with a woman of many years acquaintance, and have a new respect for both of our struggles as outsiders among outsiders.

This is another benefit of being openly fucked up. Other people who feel like you, outlier, find you and share their struggles and then you aren't alone anymore.

But this is new, feeling specifically connected with Black women. Women here in SF, in Arizona, in DC,  in Chicago...and it is shocking to me.  This is many, many years coming.

Truth?

I have been consistently rejected by many of  my "Sisters" for my entire life. Even the gossamer illusory kinship pf BDSM gave me nothing but chimeric rapport. And that heat mirage disappeared, all to often, when the going got weird.

I feared derision, scorn and rejection from other Black women.

That sucks. A lot.

How much of a fucking gift, and a startling one, to now find women who look like me meeting me in the eye and speaking with respect for my humanity.

This is...I don't know precisely what to say.

I don't know what it means yet. But it is changing my life.

Trusting myself enables me to do truly miraculous things...like trust others.

Trusting others enables us to do truly miraculous things, like make pain transcendent and find new ways to access our souls.

In addition to this past weekend being my second anniversary of being sober (whee!) I was in Chicago to talk about a play-style that many people consider to be pretty edgy, and one I am always walking into with part of my heart quailing apprehensively and shaking with fear.

But now in the fluorescent safety of the Monday morning workday, I think I feel safe in saying: "WIN."

I've done the "Race Play" class a few times now, and even though I am nervous to sickness each and every fucking time I do it, the overwhelmingly positive feedback helps me to see this IS a valuable class for folks.

The GD2 crowd was comprised on a lot of new kinksters, as their outreach mission includes free (!!!!!!) classes with national presenters and so the place brings in people from all over to teach and present.

It was a FULL house, which was awesome. They said it was one of the more well-attended classes they'd hosted.

I initially wasn't going to do a demo, but it seems the universe has smiled on me of late in that arena. Seems like my Homeboy, Ganesha, has been fucking up many, many obstacles on my behalf...even the ones I put in my own way.

Last I did the Race Play class, Minax was with me in the mix for The Exiles edition, and to all reports she survived it ;-)

Since I was gonna be traveling I wasn't planning on doing a demo in Chicago but a new "Con-Acquaintance" friend of mine mentioned he was gonna be coming in to town for my GD2 class and would be happy to help if such help was needed.

OK, well...um...sure.

[More like "OMFG are you kidding??? HELLZ YEAH!!" but we wouldn't want to overfeed his ego, would we?]

Though I haven't spent much time with Graydancer, I thought him cool and I had one of those gut level things happen.

Non-crunchy people, avert your eyes...

You know you meet someone and just feel "OK, yeah, this is one of the Soul Family People, and it is great to have you come around again!" This was one of those. I meet hundreds of people a year and have feelings like that, of immediacy and comfort and such VERY rarely. I try to trust that feeling. It hasn't yet been wrong.

OK, non-crunchy types, you can pick up here again.

So I said "OK, why not!

Mind, I'd only seen him do ropework, and hadn't played with him before.

But for several reasons, I felt absolutely fine about saying yes.

I scraped together the gumption to send him some of the extra-flowery un-PC bodice ripping period pr0n I'd started writing for The Limey Who Shall Not Be Named back in the day.

Of course I was then all "Shit...he's gonna hate it and be all "Ugh what is this corny ass shit?!" and then not want anything to do with me at all."

But that didn't happen either, so that was a relief.

The class went really really well.

It was one of those deals where I felt very much in touch with the people there, even the ones who were somewhat guarded. And even though the room was hot as FUCK and I was sweating with nerves and not at all sure what was going to happen, I took a deep breath and forged ahead.

If the class was good, the demo was fucking AWESOME.

Well, for me, anyway.

Seriously.

I'd had little clue that I was dealing with someone who was highly adept in role-laying but duh, shoulda known. He is a performer and an instructor, so there is gonna be that advantage.

Plus, he'd totally cheated and was sporting my very favourite style of boots. And he was wearing black leather gloves.

Evidently, this also...uh...works for me.

Who knew?

I honestly couldn't even LOOK at his feet too long. I'd forgotten about my thing with the boots...how does one forget that objects can become so deeply imbued with their own life that the right person at the right place in the right time can bring that all back again...?

How is it I keep forgetting that I actually really am a pervert?

Gray managed to somehow pull together a scene from the story I'd written and make it work in the context of this demo.

 This is revelatory for me on several levels.

I'm still running through this so please, bear with me, I'm kind of scattered in my thinking. But the writing helps me get it out and hell, while I'm pulling apart this humming burning ball of energy, you might as well peek in :-)

I think it was really remarkable to be able to voice this very simple type of fantasy, not worry that other people would find it either "grindingly offensive " or, worse yet, "too pedestrian and boring." Let me say this (I know, kind of surprising) but I'd never even DONE a "Old School master / slave plantation thing" because, well, I know it is the obvious fucking thing to do and I have steered clear of it.

But I figure hey, I might as well have one of my fantasies addressed, yes?

And I am glad I did.

Um, so, the scene.

It was fantastic.

I'd inaccurately calibrated this man's capacity for cold-bloodedness, so it was a bit of a genuine shock that he was SUCH a BASTARD!

Fucking awesome.

SO, yeah.

I think it is pretty much all I have to say about that right now. I might do a straight-up scene report one of these days, we'll see how generous I'm feeling about that memory.

Yes, we did play later in the evening, and that was also rather phenomenal.

It is wondrous to me that, no matter how many years I do this, there is always something new that will sneak up on you and fuck your shit up so flawlessly, you can't do anything except ride it.

I also newly re-discovered was something that I'd already had, but suffered the fate of being squashed down and buried for the past few years.

When I am single and feeling lonely MY default of late has been to walk away from those feelings of longing and let them do their own thing. I don't want to try to suppress them, not anymore. But I do not want to dwell on what I do not have, because that sets me up in a poor place.

But for lots of reasons Gray was able to get in...just enough...to a few unused places and that lead me back to a simple sweet truth: I love "This."

All the pain and beatings and bondage and all of that was compressed to one moment where I was prostrated with my cheek and lips against the warm instep of one of his boots, the other boot firmly on the back of my neck and his hand in my hair.
There was an absolutely clear moment of connectedness with the memory of the very first time I'd been in a place like that, almost eleven years ago.

And ...sorry crunchy people, but it was one of those sacred moments where you get a revelation. it was this: despite all that had happened, that has happened to me in those years, all of the people that have come and gone, all that I thought I would have and all that I never expected, there IS a place where I can feel safe and even if it doesn't look like anyone else's safe space and even if it is just for RIGHT NOW, that is all any of us EVER have.

This moment.

So breathe it in.

It was SO. Huge.

I'm getting all crying and snuffly even as I try to write.

I have absolute faith in my ability to feel, to intuit, to trust when it is right to do so. And that is precious.

Um. Yeah.

Well, massive kudos to Gray, because he let me sob like a dork all over his boots for some amount of time. Dunno know long...you know how that goes.

And hands-down one of the most emotionally attentive people with whom I've had the honor to play.

Oh, yes, and *Squee*

Furthermore, my absolute embargo on facial hair has been conditionally lifted.

Of course, the next morning, part of my brain is all "OMG OMG yeah, yeah, OK, I know, I know...you're not poly and LDRs never work and you DO NOT do LDR shit with D/s for chrissake but OMG this may be your last chance to ever and we are scared to be alone again and blah blah blah blah."

Chittering. This is one of Bubbles' excellent new voices. She does fear REALLY well.

But you know, something very different happened.

I was glad to feel that affection, and that openness to being submissive, and all those feelings. I didn't criticise myself for having them, I tacked to the wind for the impact of sub-space and PMS**

And I enjoyed myself. It felt / feels great.

I'm not afraid. If anything, I am SO happy to have had that scene and those feelings because I haven't had them in so long.

Rather than freaking out at the prospect of being alone, my thought this morning as I sort through e-mail and try to get to work is this:

These moments are a gift, precious precious precious and to try to shuffle my emotions to suit the external surroundings is hubris.

What is real emotionally is real emotionally.

Nothing less, and nothing more.

I CAN feel, even feel very profoundly, and enjoy that fully, and stand on my own feet afterward, and marvel at the magnificence of it.

I know that right now, I have to be present. By remaining present, I'll be where I am supposed to be.

And this morning I love myself for that.

**Ladies: never, never EVER tell a sadist you are PMSing and that your boobs are sore. The likelihood that they will be compassionate and easier on them because of this is abysmally low. Just don't mention it and hope for the best :-P

I'll make this short.

If you read any of my blogs, the likelihood is that you dig the idea that we have the right to fuck the way we want, and that choice is important.

The nominee for Assistant Attorney General, David W. Ogden,  is coming under fire for defending the right for choice, the right to get your pr0n on, and the right to have the Constitution viewed as a living document.

I subscribe to the AFA newsletter. I like to know what those who think differently then I do are up to, and they are batshit crazy to oppose this guy.

These folks aren't down with the dude either.

Take a second and call your senator.

Don't know who that is? Get on the interwebs!!

OK, I've done that for you, you beautiful perverts. 

FIND YOUR SENATOR

Call them.

E-mail them.

Tell them you dig DAVID OGDEN...the dude who wants to keep the government out of your motherfucking-ever-loving-choice-having toy-using-tasty-crazy-delicious yummy pants!