little_linnet's Xanga

An old post from 2007

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 22:55:26 GMT

(This topic still fascinates me -- even if it does piss me off.)

Obviously there are people posing as dominants (the "kneel bitch!" brigade) who expect submissive women to be doormats for them. (Has anyone noticed that describing themselves as "not a doormat" has kept these guys away? Anybody? Bueller?)

I've never seen a single submissive, one who is actively seeking a dominant or active in the BDSM or ownership subculture, not a single one, who I would describe as a doormat.

Not one.

That's not saying it's impossible for them to exist, of course, but I think it says something about how frequently they occur. In contrast, discussions about submission reliably bring up the "doormat" thing, constantly, to the point where you'd think the Scene was, well, carpeted with them.

What does exist, though, maybe not as plentifully as the mythical doormat, but in fairly good numbers, are those of us who choose not to seek a life with limits on our submission, and who choose to challenge the experience of surrendering choices and ego and the validation of the BDSM scene for our submission and our relationships.

WE are what people in the general BDSM scene refer to as doormats. They're talking about us. And, they are doing it in a way that props up a precious illusion -- the illusion that there's nothing between Scene submission, and being a useless, unhealthy, unintelligent doormat.

In which I channel Kinky June Cleaver and review incenses.

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 23:05:20 GMT

I like incense. I'm very glad Mr Linnet likes incense too, because it gives my twisted, alternative little heart a warm glow to make his living spaces all homey with warm smoky scents.

I placed a good-sized order from Essence Of The Ages recently when I found out that Nippon Kodo discontinued its Morning Star Gold line, and I had to scramble to stock up lest I be caught without cheap aloeswood sticks. I added boxes of several kinds I'd never tried, because duh. How do you order incense and not order new incense?

Unfortunately, the results were craptastic. I ordered 3 boxes from the Fragrance Memories line, and only one of those is pleasant enough to use up the whole box: Sahara Moon is a pretty low-key, smooth, spicy-musky blend. Green Oasis was so offensive I had to seal it in a Ziploc before I put it in the closet with the rest of my stuff to swap or give away -- very strong dryer-sheet smell that assaulted me as soon as I opened the box (not the incense box, mind you, the box it all was mailed to me in). Wake Up was just ... weird. I expected a blend of citrus and pink pepper to be a little quirky, but we just didn't get along at all. And Fig, from the basic Morning Star line, was strongly reminiscent of fruity tree-shaped car air freshener.

Ultimately, most of the Morning Star and Fragrance Memory lines are just too synthetic smelling for me: I've developed a taste for incense that smells like its ingredients, not perfume oils set on fire. I'm actually much happier with the big box of Morning Star sandalwood I grabbed for a steal at the East Asia supermarket -- it's mellow and spicy (I strongly suspect this is because it's been sitting on a dusty shelf for a long time, and sandalwood ages well. I need to convince Mr Linnet that we should stock up on 4 or 5 boxes to stick in a dark cool place for another couple years). And it was a real bargain. Unlike the Fig sticks and the Fragrance Memories line this variety appears to have no artificial colorants in it and I expect that although it's not high-grade, it's actual sandalwood based.

Speaking of sandalwood, Essence Of The Ages included a sample pack of Shah Sandalwood Dhoop Sticks. They're dhoop logs, meaning they're short and squatty with no stick, and don't fit well in the included holder. They're OK. I'm not impressed. I'd rather have the Morning Star Sandalwood.

Stay tuned as I explore the scary world of real aloeswood now that I've been forced out of my Morning Star Gold comfort zone. Carolyn reports good results with NK's Kohdo Spicy Aloeswood, so that's one possibility, and NK's Zuiun Aloeswood looks promising as well for under $6/pack.

Materialism

Tue, 02 Sep 2008 19:22:55 GMT

I've always thought that saying I own something or that it's mine is only shorthand for saying that it's something I live with in my environment and get to enjoy or use or whatever. I want to examine that closely and see if it's true.

I know that when I'm non-depressed and happy in my relationship with Mr L my tendency is to joyfully attribute everything good I have to him: Oh thank you, you let me get my favorite cereal at the store, oh thank you, you bought me pretty things at the Goodwill. The nature of a relationship, though, is that things aren't always happy and smooth sailing and when I'm depressed or unhappy my tendency is to clutch at the things I treasure to ensure that they're "mine" and that no one takes them away from me. I wonder whether this is an effect of being unhappy and insecure, or whether it *has* a causal effect on being unhappy and insecure.

Of course, our personal histories are different and this probably affects the way each of us looks at material belongings. I've never been in a position where I provided for myself; I went straight from living with my mother (who used good things of all kinds from food to cosmetics and gifts as tools to reflect whether I was in a state of grace with her and to maintain control over me) to marrying Mr L. Living with Mr L and being dependent on him was the first time I experienced being given good things as an imperfect person, on having my access to the things I enjoyed not being dependent on the state of our relationship.

He has always provided for me, and I think this means I view him as provider on a basic level, while my experience with my mother makes it hard for me to take material things for granted, which change the equation for me. I struggle with a feeling of entitlement to material goods in general, I think the same entitlement more or less that people in a privileged society like ours have, but my tendency is not to feel entitled to things by being given them and feel humble by being denied them, it's the opposite. I feel humbled and grateful when I get things and if I feel insecure or unhappy I clutch tightly at the things I have while not daring to show desire for other things.

Today's RDA of strange

Wed, 27 Aug 2008 21:10:13 GMT

I am feeling so sad about not being allowed to wear pretty jewelry.

And then I feel a little turned on by feeling sad.

Yup.

This window into Linnet's mind brought to you by Reactions Only Perverts Have, Short Theater Edition.

Like seriously.

Tue, 26 Aug 2008 21:49:07 GMT

I'm a gonna talk about bleeding here, so if that gets your panties (or manpanties) all in a wad, don't read it. Yeah, I talk about it, I have no shame about bleedin' from my uterus.

So I'm on my period, and Mr L and I have figured out that I get freakin' exhausted on my period. Leading us to conclude that anemia is a big chunk of my problem, even though the lab reports came back supposedly normal. I've been on iron supplements for I think 4 weeks now? and B-complex supplements for about 2 weeks and there seems to be some general improvement in my energy (although the damn circles under my eyes don't seem to be going away). I still just keel over when I bleed though. It sucks.

When I stop to think about it, though, the general improvement is pretty noticeable. I've been doing laundry again, some garden chores, stuff like cleaning the bathroom before it gets to biohazard levels. Going through the house picking up a couple hours before bed, which is something I don't think I've done for months. Getting back to my semiritualized habit of keeping the bedroom tidy and pleasant for Mr L.

If I get overambitious, though, I wipe myself out and sleep all day the next day. It's a fine line to walk.

Yesterday was mr L's birthday. I am forbidden to tell anyone how old he is because he's slightly depressed about it. I think he's being ridiculous, which is more than a little hypocritical of me considering how I freak the hell out about turning 30 next year. I never thought I would do that, but there you go. Anyway, I generally spoiled him for most of the day, which paid off (the mercenary little snippet says) in a moderate but satisfying "birthday spanking". My butt, she misses the spankings.

Bread, again.

Sun, 24 Aug 2008 06:32:36 GMT

Made the brioche and it's truly unlike anything I've tasted before. Almost like light, fluffy piecrust, but that sounds really gross and brioche is delectable.

The recipe called for five freakin' eggs and a half pound of butter. Yeah. A very very soft dough, but Reinhart's instructions are good and it went off without a hitch. The only issues were a) realizing exactly how long 6 minutes becomes when you're beating a very stiff batter by hand and b) learning through experience that brioche dough flattens and spreads much more than standard bread doughs as it rises and bakes.

Otherwise, a good experience.

Reinhart's "Multigrain Extraordinaire" bread is also good. Although I was underwhelmed by the amount of whole grains in it. It's essentially a matrix of white bread dough with whole grains providing extra texture. That said, it was absolutely delicious and I believe Reinhart when he says it makes the world's best toast. The crumb was moist and flavorful with tiny sweet nuggets of cornmeal and chewy sprouted barley (the barley was improv on my part), the crust was crackly and chewy, perfection.

Bread.

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 17:51:04 GMT

I've been using shortcut-type bread recipes for so long that I forgot how much I love to bake good bread the long, slow way. Time to check out Peter Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice from the library again and do a refresher course in what real bread is about.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough for anyone who likes to bake bread. After I read it for the first time bread stopped being a recipe and became a seductive art with hidden secrets and challenges. I obsessed about bread, made the best bread of my life, and only stopped when my health issues got in the way. Now that I'm feeling better it's all bread, all the time again.

A short primer on what Reinhart's book covers: bread is not about yeast, it is about flour. At the heart of every great loaf of bread is flour that has been handled correctly -- its starch molecules awakened by enzymes to spin out into multiple sugary-alcohol flavors and gelatinized, its glutiase and glutiathone developed, its proteins roasted.

What all this translates to, mostly? Slow. Take it slow and do it right. Coax the most flavor possible out of the dough with a pre-ferment, make the first ferment (bulk rise) long and slow, be patient with the second ferment and shaping. Hydrate the dough to the maximum amount possible and be rewarded with a crumb so well gelatinized that it almost sparkles in the light and has a creamy taste on the tongue. A crust blistered and crackly. A loaf that develops flavors on the second and third day instead of simply going stale.

I would give almost anything (if it were mine to give, which it's not, of course) to learn bread under someone like Peter Reinhart, to have a true master baker demonstrate the art to me and critique my efforts. Instead, I'm going to try using Reinhart's recipe to make brioche. Stay tuned.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 23:33:36 GMT

So I was out in the garden today, pulling up weeds and getting a patch ready to put in more bush beans because I'm enjoying them much more than I expected to this year (they're Royalty purple pod, if anyone wonders, and they're beautiful). It occurred to me that a lot of people on the gardening websites where I hang out say that their gardening makes them more religious, or spiritual or "closer to god" or whatnot. But I think that gardening contributed to making me an atheist.

I've grown things for as long as I can remember (I don't know how my mom put up with me pretending to be a parrot while I "helped" her plant flower seeds, squawking "Rawwwk! Pansy! Rawwwk! Marigold!") and if I've learned one thing from doing it, it's that there doesn't need to be a Sky Guy making it all happen. Living things have their own motivation and mechanics for doing what they do. There are rules it all goes by, but they're not impenetrable and mystical. (Although they are amazing, and this is what baffles me about people who have a need to find mystery and awe in religious myth; the stuff that happens around us every day is so fantastic on its own without having to project magical thinking onto it.)

Humans! They lived in a world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose very day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impresses them? Weeping statues, and wine made out of water, a mere quantum-mechanistic-tunnel effect that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and enzymes wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time.

- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

Anyway, gardening. I'm very pleased with the garden this summer. It's unquestionably looking prettier than it ever has in August before and I've had more energy to maintain it than I've ever had in late summer. The new beds have filled in better than I expected. Unlike last year, the dahlias are blooming.

Nicotiana alata, "Jasmine" flowering tobacco, is a new plant this year and I couldn't be more delighted with it. It got much bigger and more beautiful than I expected and it'll be on my list for next year. (Although N. sylvestris was a failure for me yet again.)

N. alata with Nasturtiums "Creamsicle" and "Spitfire", Salvia "Caradonna" and Colocasia esculenta

Friday, December 08, 2006

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 21:44:15 GMT

Wednesday 12-06

Last night (early this morning) I dreamed that M and I had a new house. I remember feeling like the neighbors we met (while we were walking to it) knew about me belonging to him and were OK with it. When we got to the new house and he was showing it to me he explained that the chairs had come with it, and he thought they would be comfortable. There weren't very many of them, he said, but that was OK because I wouldn't be needing them anyway. Woke up feeling lonesome for that house in the woods and a life where I had to stay off the furniture.

I always seem to have those kinds of dreams in the morning between when M leaves for work and when the baby wakes me up. I wonder if it has to do with him kissing me goodbye and whispering "Love you, cunt" before he goes.

Last night he was talking about wanting me to eat on the floor, and how that could possibly be made to work when we usually have meals together with the kids. Must have influenced my dreaming. The truth is that I crave all that kind of thing desperately, and not as a game -- as part of my life that I have to accept as normal. I try not to minimize the internal struggles I would have with all of it -- eating on the floor, not being allowed to use the furniture without permission, having lights out dictated to me, sleeping on the bed as a privilege and not something I take for granted -- I know there would be times of conflict and difficulty acclimating to it.

But, I think what I crave most of all is knowing for absolutely sure that I was with someone who is able to chcuk out all the ideas wbout how you treat a partner -- someone who honest to God looks at me and sees a possession, someone (something) that it's perfectly natural to restrict and keep under his thumb absolutely.

I often wonder what exactly M sees when he looks at me, how he think of me inside his own head. He knows everything about how I think of him and see him, but that transparency isn't two-way and sometimes I wish it were. I wonder if he honestly does see me as "his cunt" and he tells me I am, or whether in the back of his head he still sees me as a partner, someone who agrees to share this relationship with him, and someone who can be handled only as long as he doesn't take anything too far.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Fri, 01 Dec 2006 18:34:01 GMT

Friday, 11-30

OK, so, I managed to pull -- well, mediocrity, anyway -- out of yesterday's chaos. A roast for dinner that turned out really well. Peanut butter cookies. While dinner was cooking M rounded up the kids to shovel most of the debris out of the living room, which inspired me to pick up in the kitchen. The pile of clean laundry is now equal in size to the pile of dirty laundry.

I forgot to comb my hair before M got home, though. Oops.

He woke me up before he left this morning with a hand shoved in my face to kiss, and another hand shoved between my legs to -- well. All the best ways to wake up. Actually got out of bed two hours later, feeling queasy, exhausted and inexplicably weepy (no, I can't be pregnant, remember?). No morning can be entirely crappy when there's a wonderful quiche waiting in the fridge, though, right?

And M ordered me pretty shoes.