Sunday, Nov. 02, 2003 - 1:29 a.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
A hellish night
When I got back I ate homemade leek quiche (the last of the frozen food I stocked the freezer with LAST fall... I am such a doze... no new good food this year and the season has nearly gone by) and frozen spinach heated up. mmmyum. I ate that while I looked over emails. The nice Vermont guy has written with his website and photos of me last night. I have written back asking permission to post them... so maybe you will soon have pics of the Wench as Leo/Scorpio rising.
But back to the hellish evening.
I shouldve known. It started with me not hearing from ChaosX about my ticket for my Operafriend's singing show tonight. Remember, her buying me a ticket was part of the payment deal for the massage I gave her last Sunday. And it seems that it would be good to know IF she had bought a ticket and HOW and WHEN I would get ahold of it myself. This is someone who has a tendency to blow off committments, and I was finally getting along with her again, and here I was thinking, fuck, trust her and here we go again. So I started off my day with a rather annoyed phone message to her, warning that I needed to know about the ticket. I had already left two nice messages in the previous day or two, asking that she call me with this info, which she didnt do. aagh.
Fortunately today, she called me right back and said, oh, ticket is bought, and if she is not there yet at 8pm, just ask for the ticket under my name.
Sounds so simple. yes.
When I get there, I have NO IDEA if she is "there yet" or not, but asked someone "is the line just for buying tickets or for reserved ones?", and got refered to some guy, say Bob. Well Bob goes oh, I'm Operafriend's friend, you remember me?, and he has a list in his hand. It takes a confusingly long time to find out where to go for my ticket, cuz he is 1) asking why i'm asking him about a ticket (because someone told me he would know) 2) asking who is supposed to have my ticket (who the hell knows) 2) asks me if how it was bought (how would I know), and then runs off to ask Mikki (another of Operafriend's friends) if he has my ticket. So, the line is getting longer, and going by, and I am standing here wondering who has my ticket and going... I REALLY should never get people to do things like get my ticket for me AS A FAVOR... what a pain in the ass. I really had NO information to give, as to whom had bought the ticket (ChaosX, one of her friends?), or when, or how. Finally he comes back with Mikki, who says hi! What can I help you with.Repeat same scenario as with Bob. AAAGH!! So they say, you should be in line. After all that.
So, I ended up getting the ticket after 20 mins, (thank god when I arrived at the counter the ticket WAS there and WAS paid for) but the lights had already gone down in the theater, and I could hear them announcing my friend on stage. AAAGH. I say "are the seats numbered?" to someone, who points me to an usher, who looks at my ticket and says "table 214"... walks me down the aisle (everyone is seated at nice little tables, all eyes fixed on stage), and points me to a table right in front of the stage, in the center of the room... "There is table 214 (sure enough a large number is on the table, which matches my ticket), and there is your empty chair". So I quickly pass in front of the whole bloody room and sit down very quickly, putting my jacket on the back and removing my gloves, bag etc to stash them as quickly as possible.
In moments, the woman beside me leans towards me. I thought she must be one of a group of ChaosX's friends that she bought tickets next to. No. It is a complete stranger, who says "What are you doing there?" I say "I'm at table 214, and the usher says to sit in this empty chair". She counters "that chair's not empty"... hah! funny, but seemed empty to me... or the person is really small and invisible. No, turns out the chair is where her huge fat redfaced husband was sitting, but he has gotten up to take a photo of Operafriend. He wants to return to the chair I am all installed in.
Remember this is right in front of the stage in a silent room with all eyes staring towards us. aaagh. I try to indicate I will try to correct the situation when the song ends, but he's talking, she's talking. I dont see where I can possibly sit without a repeat situation, since this IS the only empty chair at the table with my number, and I don't want to start wandering through the room, standing in front of the singer, asking people if I could sit at their table since I'd been ousted from mine. aaagh.
Finally when the song changed, I ended up sitting by myself at a chair at the next table that had a huge reserved sign on it, trying to look like I am at the fringes of table 214, if someone says "THIS IS NOT YOUR TABLE". aagh.
Thinking, fuck, here I thought nice, I'm going to have a seat prearranged with friends, and instead I end up getting squeezed out of my seat by strangers' husbands. aagh.
At halftime I wandered around and found other friends, who said I could sit at their table, but one (a dom, yes, always a dom) says "you may sit here if you don't talk during the show". Yes, this dom knows me. Yes I have a reputation for talking in regular life. But not during silent shows with a singer. ouch. Everyone looked at me. I wonder if they had conditions attached to them sitting in their seats.
I found ChaosX, and she was sitting with her guy and other friends. There were no available seats. Yes I feel real included. oh well. She never said "come with me", but rather "I'll get you a ticket".
When halftime was over. Mr. Dom sat down and again said "wench, no talking now". Strangely I hadnt been talking at all. I spent much of the next song trying to think of a nice way to say "please don't say that even as a joke, if I am not talking, since it pushes buttons". glll. Wench the blabbermouth. Wench the motormouth. Shut up the Wench. glll.
During the next set of songs, many made me cry. Songs about the pain and pleasure of love. The song "Ne me quitte pas". Arab music that made me think of ob. Even just being there feeling like I had no one to sit with made me cry, as well as people who "let" me sit with them feeling obliged to lay down the law before I sat down. gll. Missing ob. One of the few times I had someone to go to things with. The difference between an "us" and an "i". I wish I was not such a crybaby. Makes me think of my father going "stop crying or i'll give you something to cry for." Needless to say, that didnt make me stop crying.
Trying to not sniffle (really, with one singer the room is REAL quiet), and trying not to let people see me crying.
After the music was done and the lights came up, and I was hoping I looked presentable, Mr. Dom immediately piped up "There, Wench, you can talk now". aaaagh. Well, I said "excuse me, I didnt realize we had negotiated me subbing to you tonight".. and he countered, "ah, you see, you misunderstand...the situation is always..." or somesuch, and I got louder and sort of sparring verbally (It wasnt really agressive, more like a playful challenge"... and started saying "there's no fucking way you are going to shut me up if I'm not subbing to you, unless you use a..." and then I was cut off, by another guy at the table. We'll call him Mr. Dom2. Yes yes, another Dom (and let me add here that ChaosX is a domme too), said "Not at my table. Stop that NOW. This is MY RESERVED TABLE and you will stop that". Now I guess that is how I shouldve treated the people sitting in all the chairs at Table 214, which obviously matched the Table 214 ticket in my hand "THIS IS MY RESERVED TABLE. STOP THIS NOW".
Well, there is not a lot you can say to "this is my reserved table" when you are a refugee displaced from your own reserved table, even if both you and Mr. Dom2 have paid the same price to sit at the same chairs and tables.
I did shut up. And shot killer eyes at Mr. Dom2 who wasnt even looking anymore, content that no one was talking loudly at his table. To which Mr. Dom1 said "smile wench". And the tears just welled up.
How did I feel. Tableless. Friendless. Judged to be a pain before I even sat down. Treated like a small child or a sub who someone has the right to say, "talk now, dont talk now". then pulled rank on, then told to smile.
I realize that I do not take well being pulled rank on. I hate feeling like I have no right to myself or my feelings. The whole reason bdsm is negotiated is so there is a CONSENSUAL exchange of power. And negotiate what people's emotional buttons are too. If you tell me in front of 5 other people when I can and cannot talk, I find it humiliating. And then when tears welled up, I felt even more humiliated. Really. There was no one there with me. I was only at that table by their good graces. So I left, not wanting to be sitting there while the tears that had been hidden during the songs welled up again and spilled down my face.
They were like "hey, are you leaving?" as I quickly gathered up my stuff and headed for the lobby. Mr. Dom made a move to come after me, but changed his mind. It wouldve been nice that SOMEONE had come to the lobby. But I guess they just thought. Yes, see, she made a mess of the whole situation as soon as she had permission to speak. What the fuck. If no one had taken it upon themselves to give or take away my permission to speak, there would have been no problem, let alone raised voices, and no pulling rank.
I HATE HATE HATE HATE pulling rank. Like ob's roomate pulling rank at their kitchen table. She couldve eaten her bowl of noodles anywhere, and I was in the middle of a watercolor professional drawing, but it was HER KITCHEN, and I was only THE GUEST OF A SUBLET. How can you argue with that? Funny how human decency, politeness, feelings, and even logic all fly out the window when someone pulls rank.
And ob's Mme. "It's my prerogative to keep her as long as I want". "It's her Domme" the others chirp. So, it doesnt matter that ob and I had previous plans, that I am in town from 3000 miles away, that I am her girlfriend, her lover. No, I am not the Mme. How can you argue with that?
And the doorman at the L'Aigle Noir. "I am the doorman and my job is to keep out underage and women". Doesnt matter the owner lets me in, that the bartender is expecting me, that I've been there 5 times in 3 weeks. No, I am a woman, and he is the Doorman. How can you argue with that? At least he was paid to do his job, even though he was being an absolute nimrod. Vs Mr. Dom and Mr. Dom2 tonight, and ob's roomate and Mme. No they were just pushing around whatever entitlement they had.
So, to finish the sentence, which was going to be "if I havent consented to sub to you, you are not going to shut me up, except maybe with a ... ball gag or duct tape" (ie physical force) I would have to add, you can also shut me up by publicly humiliating me, by pulling rank on me in public so that I look stupid to say anything at all, and by making me so upset or angry that I cannot think of anything but nasty nasty shit to reply, in which case my mother's voice saying "if you can't say anything nice, dont say anything at all" pops into my head, and cuts the link between my swearing head and my tongue. You can tell I am really really angry if I am silent.
Well, I am sure I couldve written that in a better manner than play by play. The end result was that the whole way, from agreement to buy the ticket, to crying on my bike on my way home, I felt left out, alone, sad, picked upon, and then just a fuckup. I am sure what happened just confirmed everything. Obviously I need to be told to shut up, cuz someone who knows me said three times things related to that, and then when I had permission to speak, I created noise which was perceived to be a fight, and then had to be shut up. And then I got upset and left precipitously and emotionally. And alone.
so, it becomes self-fulfilling. If I had been with a friend or group of friends, I wouldnt have asked to sit there. If I had had someone to stand up for me, they might have said "I think Wench doesnt need instructions to speak, thanks". And if there had been someone I felt was supportive, I mightve not rushed out. But now we can see "of course she is alone, because she talks too much and creates scenes". That is how I feel anyways. And yes, now I feel there are another 4 people I dont feel like attending shows with or talking with. So now I am more alone than before I went out.
What a fucking mess. And I am writing too much and it feels like talking too much, and I am becoming self-conscious. Although I guess this is MY Diary and I Myself can pull rank here. hah. :(
In the meantime, that little blurb that some website turned into a poem has appeared in it's "published" version online, here at The Dominant's View
gotta work now.
Work on Sunday: clean out whole garden, rub all US sketches to transfer, and try to get them all inked (55 in total), do whites and pencils on Bear (30 pages), do GST and QST tax report for July-Sept. You know, that is too much for one day. But Monday I have to scan Bear, and drop it off. I have to go to the bank to pay the GST and QST due, so must have report done. And that all before 4:30pm... cuz at 5 I have to be clean and presentable at a book launch for my religion books (the two pics on this page are from those). Then after the launch, I have Monday night and Tuesday to do all the grey tones on the US contract so I can send it Fedex on Wednesday. Then must practice for the performance Wed night. This has been an insane crazy week. I so so hope the following week is more livable.
And I feel so sane here at home, vs feeling horrid, lonely, fucked up, emotional and crazy, out at the show tonight and bawling my eyes out on my bike coming home. The "Emotional Management 3/10" "Emotional Management 3/10" keeps flashing through my mind. I wish my mind was as good at hanging onto the theory of relativity, or the equation for translating grams into ounces as it is at hanging onto anything emotionally negative that it can use to torture my heart with. aagh. You know, when I feel accepted and included I am never like this. It is total defences. I remember how everyone remarked that I was relaxed, lowkey and calm around ob. Yes. I trusted her and felt supported. And I remember at fest two years ago, when I felt I had no one there who disliked me. Many people actually came up to me on the last day and told me how much fun I was and how they appreciated that I was there with my Canadian humour. (hah! they operate under some strange idea that I have "Canadian" humour... I WISH... it would mean that at home in Canada, someone SHARED my sense of humour)... who is that happy fun easygoing person that people are at ease with and enjoy and invite the next time? She has vacated my body and left someone horrid and sad and defensive and lonely who is too emotional and talks loudly. That people dislike. Yes, and me too. I need a hug. I want my ob. And that just makes me feel like some stupid self-pitying 4 year old in a 40 year old body.
Well, I am tired. All that crying. Stupid me. I really did hope to transfer drawings tonight, but the later I stay up, the later I'll get started tomorrow.
I really hope some other diarylanders update tomorrow. It seems no one on my list except for xquisitepain has updated for days now. I wish they would come back. I wonder what Sleepyzoe and Meeyapede did for Halloween. And their sexual exploits. Someone may as well have some! :) Goodnight to me.
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily