citrus_java: (Default)
So for those who don't know, M and I are living together again, on the condition that I have my own space, with a door, that she never enters.

I haven't been able to use that space lately, was feeling too badly and there isn't usable furniture there (M was in charge or taking care of that before she moved back in, and didn't on time, and after I needed her AWAY from that space, and decided to take the time cause I just could not handle that. There was also a bunch of garbage there that I was gearing up to throw out, but it was taking very long, mostly because whenever I gathered some energy, I mostly had to use it on dealing with M.

So today I left the house for a few hours , and came back to find a lot of the trash that had been in the room outside in the garbage can. And I was just wishing she hadn't, that there was some sort of explanation - but no. It turns out she went into my space, and decided what needed to be thrown out, and threw it out. I feel so violated and so - just - sad.

She explained that she believed it was consensual, cause a long time ago I told her I wasn't able to do it myself. Two days ago she dropped something in my stuff and I explained (again) that her even looking at it makes me nervous, and I gave up doing my stuff to find that thing for her just so she doesn't go through my things at all. She has ALWAYS made up dumb excuse to tell herself that things I clarified beyond clarification were off limits, were not.

I can't believe she did that.

I can't believe this is my life.
citrus_java: (Default)
This is for [livejournal.com profile] cantarina1 's prompt, and is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here. Image isn't mine - linking back to where it's from.

I love podfic for so many reasons. These are only a few. First, the community around it seems to be really cool, a lot of awesome people. I had the pleasure of meeting some wonderful people through podfic, such as [livejournal.com profile] nickelmountain and [livejournal.com profile] applegeuse/ I like that the community is pretty socially aware, and friendly, and open to experimentation. I think I'd like to get to know the community better.

My early days in podfic
Last year I fell head over heels, deeply, for Dean, Sam, Jensen and Jared. With podfic, they were with me a lot of the time - some of the most amazing, best stories of the fandom going with me, holding my hand, inspiring me, fascinating, shocking, turning me on, making me fall for the characters and the fandom more, too, getting to know them better. It was meaningful, still is. It was about them and about fandom and about myself.


I react to the fic in my ears. I have laughed, gasped, stopped to just breathe with scenes that had a lot of impact. On the bus, on the street, at the shop, at uni, at the library - I'm that freak. But it's fun to care about what I'm listening to, and why not allow myself to smile or laugh or even cry, without having to explain myself to people. And it's good to have an option to have this thing going that is mine, and disconnected from where I am or what I'm experiencing. You can call it a safe word, only it's often for things I never consented to to begin with. You can call it escapism, but that's only partially true. IMO. Perhaps call it a lifeline (sometimes).

More personal reasons
Podfic is mobile home, comfort, a place to hide, something that reminds me of part of myself. A sanctuary of subjectivity. A sort of resistance, even if just for me. Gives me strength to deal, gives me a sort of armor sometimes.

There's a particular street where I'm always sexually harassed and/or harassed for being fat. When I have to walk there, I need podfic in my headphones. When I'd flee from fights with family, and just wander around outside feeling helpless, I held onto podfic - for balance, for perspective, or just to cope - for good or bad.. Something good before I had to go back and face things.

When I had to go to my mom's house, last time before we stopped talking, I was seriously scared. I listened to podfic. In my mind, I went in with fandom-Jensen, with his caring attitude and that empathic charm in his smiling eyes, holding my hand, and fandom-Jared - bouncy sweet and smart, protective and earnest and silly , holding the other. I made it through that.

A couple of months ago, uni decided to force people to show picture ID in order to get into campus. I don't want to, since it feels intrusive, and I want to be an ally to people whose ID can endanger them, and also - being genderqueer, my ID doesn't have the right gender on it. And I hate hate hate having to present it. So every time I needed to get into campus, I'd have to go through an intentionally draining and somewhat humiliating process with campus police. I started dreading going to uni. Perhaps I'll just skip this class, or I don't have the energy to go through that just to get to the library. Podfic was something to get me there, to give me the energy and comfort to still do it.

One of the reasons it works for me, is - It's an imagined ally, I can pretend to myself that those people would have understood my weird ramblings about gender or whatever, that I have that, have someone like that. It's something to hold onto, and that's meaningful, thta can make the difference. For me. It's the main reason I am still not over, still talking about real-Jensen's attitude about bisexuality.

Readers <3
With some readers, it feels intimate - sharing the love for the story or the characters. I love hearing emotion in readers' voices, and I often like it when they are "present" rather than "transparent", like that they share with me something of them. The character's feelings that they identify with, or their feelings about the story. And it's not about how bouncy the reading is - some very subtle readings convey so much beautiful emotion. And then other readers let the story be most noticeable, just give it space, clean. I don't notice their reading, they allow me to dive into the story and forget that it's just fic. Which is very generous, respectful - a gift. Those readers make space for me as a listener to be attentive to the story, the characters, the way the story makes me feel, sometimes. To listen to myself or lose the world in it.

Some readers make all the difference.

Still, I often don't know how to give feedback to readers, especially since my taste is basically my quirks. Probably shouldn't say "I really enjoyed how you stumbled over your words when the plot became dramatic, it was real, sweet, and I identified with you", "I didn't notice your reading at all! Thank you" or even "I've come to associate your voice with good things" - and I'm never sure whether people would want to hear how sexy I find their reading or voice, so mostly just I shut up about that.


On a different note - Happy birthday!
citrus_java: (Default)
This is for [livejournal.com profile] nagasasu 's promt, and is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here. Images aren't mine - linking back to where they're from.
[this is personal and intimate information. Read on only if you are comfortable being exposed to that, and if you appreciate and respect me sharing that, please.]


A few months ago, I realized I have this major thing for Praise Kink, which at the time was even more mind blowing to me, because it was a non-sexual thing. It was this new realization and it really rattled me. I walked around for a while in a constant state of being mind blown. How could this move me so deeply? How could I not have known, not even have imagined needing this?



It was somewhat like the first time I was (role play only) kissed by a guy as a guy. Then I went around for a couple of days just burning with it, feeling like I owned the world, and like I wanted to gobble it all up. It was life changing. But then it was sexual. I was turned on, in love with my own theoretical dick, I suddenly understood all those jackass guys who consider their cock the best thing in creation.




This was a lot like that, but it wasn't sexual. It was this big need, revelation. I kept thinking about it, experiencing it, craving it. I was (extremely) lucky to have a partner willing to give it a try, and that was amazing. And I was also very lucky to have a friend to talk it over with (you know who you are - thank you :)) . It seriously didn't go smoothly, plenty of misunderstandings and bumps in the road. And because it meant so much to me, and because I'm apparently more sensitive than I used to be, those hurt a lot.



It's still a thing I'm figuring out and exploring, but the major need for it has subsided. It somehow became more about subbing - a need I've kinda touched upon in the past, but never got to explore, I was almost always a Dom, and while I did is partially out of curiosity, as something fun or sexy, and to a small extent because it answered some need in me - generally I did it as a nice thing for other people. That was probably not the very best idea for me, I'm not good enough at being in touch with my own needs and boundaries to be safe doing that. And the people I played with didn't realize as a Dom I still needed to be safe and needed to be cared for. It's not an easy thing to do, though, I admit.


I like not having to Dom, though I believe that I do have that drive in me. Wanting to take someone apart and find out what's inside, wanting to get them in touch with their vulnerability, to get to see all that beauty, get them in touch with their pain, and make it better, to whatever extent I can, in a session, wanting to sooth, wanting to have things my way with out having to worry about every little thing (which is bullshit, Domming is all about exactly that, in many cases), wanting to know how to do something well, to have clear rules, clear communication about what works, how and why, wanting to feel in control, perhaps, though I believe it's more about my need to please, to do well, to get things right .





Subbing is a need I certainly feel, these days. It has to do with how helpless I feel most of the time, probably. My need to be reassured, to allow myself to be weak, unable, to be loved when I'm seriously not strong. It also probably has to do with reclaiming sexual violence for my own, as something - as sort of a way to make it better, to fix it...

And it's a way to get the negotiation, communication, legitimacy to say no, mutual attentiveness and carefulness that I need in any sexual/non-sexual such encounter, but is harder for me to insist on in "regular" sex. Not that I really have any of that, anymore.



I've recently started dating someone, and though I like her and am attracted to her, I found that I seriously don't want to actually have sex. Perhaps it's cause it's just a touchy subject for me. I've been assaulted several times, and in addition, I just wasn't aware that I "was allowed to" say no to sex I didn't actively want, "just because" of my feelings. Still working on that. I feel a little uncomfortable writing about that, because it takes my experiences away from me. It's such a stereotype, and I'm not sure the cliches are right about me. I need my experiences to stay belonging to me, and not be co-opted for either side of the pro/anti sex wars. Perhaps for other reasons.




Regardless, I've been wondering whether I want sex-sex at all. I don't know, not sure. I like some things, mostly making out things, though some of them are more sensual than sexual. But not only, that I know for sure. And I like them perhaps only with people I'm very very close with. ATM, there's no one I'd feel comfortable touching me sexually beyond that. And as for penetration - I asked myself about it, and the thought of never ever having to be penetrated again made me so happy and turned on I masturbated to it. Sharing this cause it amuses me. Don't know whether I'll always feel that way, but that isn't as relevant - feeling that way now/.




I wondered whether perhaps I was asexual after all, but from what I've read on AVEN, it's not about wanting or not wanting to have actual sex, but about being o not being sexually attracted to anyone. And I am definitely attracted to people, I just don't seem to want to have sex with them. Someone on the forums described it as the difference between enjoying the smell of coffee and wanting to actually drink coffee. I get that with croissants and fresh bread and popcorn. They smell so amazing, but I mostly don't enjoy eating them. Definitely not as much as I imagine enjoying them when i smell them. Not sure I'm writing off the asexuality thing, I definitely feel I'm *something*, but perhaps for now I need to figure out more what I feel and need ...
citrus_java: (Default)
I was just seriously told "You should be nicer! My friend didn't call you a bitch cause he's a misogynist! He'd have cursed at you some other way had you been a bio-guy!"

I... um... lol?

Less lol about the rest. *sigh* Have a picture of JDM and Craig Ferguson being cute, to make up for the bummer post )
citrus_java: (Default)
Seriously, had I read my life in fic I'd have had trouble with suspension of disbelief. Those twists and silly setbacks are so obviously only there as a plot device! Nobody's life's like that!

And on that note - how did Chuck sell a single book?! Oh, right, wait - Winchesters.
Some things are more important than plausibility.

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