Monthly Archives: March 2012

The Cat-Saga has finally ended.

Olivia has come home!!!!

I got a call while I was out that she had been seen going into the foundation area of the building next door.  I got home later today, grabbed a flashlight and some dry cat food and went out.  I set some food out and when I shined the light- there she was!  Sitting pretty and glorious and wondering what had taken me so long with the food (or so that look on her face said).

After a few hours and the arrival of my partner, she stayed down there with food and I came up here to prepare warm things for her and I to sit there and wait her out.  I got the call as I was prepping to make hot chocolate.

I did a working at Pantheacon during my presentation (which, by the way, the working wasn’t originally going to be for her) and the results are finally here.

Thank you all.

Thank you Bast.  Freya.  My Patron and Matrons.  Thank you all for attending and feeding the working with your words and energy and presence.

She is home.  My heart rejoices, and the pain I felt is remembered in glory.

About time, I say.

This article* has opened up a lot of my misgivings in talking about my sexwork as another service I offer.

In talking about sexwork, the first thing people imagine is something like Pretty Woman, the next thing people imagine, almost simultaneously is a woman on the corner who is doing it to feed some sort of drug or alcohol habit.  I am neither of these things.  If anything, I am a person who is more closely tied to a courtesan of the Medieval Ages.  I know and learn many different skills (besides bedroom or sexual skills) and have a broad range of knowledge in a variety of topics, because I want to be a companion for the time I am asked to share with someone.

If I could get more people to understand this work by seeing past the Julia Roberts or the innumerable faces arrested for doing these acts on public streets, I would want them to think of it more along the lines of Inara Serra of Firefly; but we diverge into fantasy so seldom in real life.  Where her clients were mostly affluent, rich, upper class, I am interested in the working man, the ones who are working day-in, day-out and do all the usual day to day grind and need a respite.  For an hour, for a night, for as long as they have need of me.

Can I be those other two examples?  Sure.  That goes without saying.  Part of the work entails becoming a blank canvas, something the other person can draw on, can imagine what they need onto me, without touching into that core sense of who I really am, because they don’t need to see that part of me, they need to see what they WANT to see.  Sometimes that isn’t pretty, or even appealing to me.  But it’s not about me.  It’s about the intimacy that is created with a fictive person, with someone who isn’t really there.

A therapist is someone who is there, but it’s like the trope of the disembodied voice that parrots back to us what we say, because sometimes we need to hear it from something outside ourselves in order to really get at whatever it is that’s troubling us.  So much of that ability to just give back and gently prod more from a client revolves around remembering that who you are isn’t more important than who is before you, that takes a willingness to look deep into yourself, to see that part of you that you don’t like at all, and still be okay with who you are.  There is so much power to be gained from that process. . .

I feel like I’m barely scratching the surface of this topic, and I will definitely be exploring and expounding on it, as I continue to talk things out and tease out the ideas in my head.  Right now, it’s one very large ball of knots and twists, but I’m a patient sort and I like unraveling, in so many ways.

*The original author of the article, Stanley Siegel has been summarily fired from his column (after inexplicable censoring of this article and others), and would appreciate your support.

The Cat saga, continues.

Still no Olivia.  At this point, my Beloved and I are hoping that someone has made her their kitty.

I keep checking around my neighborhood and looking in weird out-of-way spots.  No luck.  I continue to check with Animal Services.

May Freya and Bast keep Olivia safe always, and may Olivia return (sooner rather than later) if she is meant to be back with us.


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