Three days until I finally get to experience this epic rope-geek’s paradise that I keep hearing stories about. Though really, the countdown began sometime three weeks back. But I can’t believe it’s almost time! I’ve taken note of the classes I’m considering going to, including “Hojojutsu for Pirates” and “Abductions and Takedowns,” I’ve got my volunteer shift schedule and will be working at Merchandising, and I’ve got a mental packing list of everything I want to bring. I just hope it all fits into the laptop bag and one carryon I plan to bring with me!
But beyond classes and play parties, what I’m most looking forward to is the chance to reconnect with a whole bunch of people that I’ve met throughout the past year or so: from the then-budding rope group in Boston to the wonderful rope lovers I met at Folsom Fringe hailing from Australia, Oregon, and of course – Seattle. Everyone will have stories to share and new rope tricks to show off, I’m sure. So much has happened this past year. I know I’ve grown tremendously – into my own identity, and into my kinks. I know I’ll be bringing my boots, which are fast becoming part of my identity.
Who knows – maybe I’ll get to kick someone around with my boots, and explore that arena of play.
Ever since I first saw this musical, I have been in love with the Phantom. I love the compelling, dark, and twisted character that is the Phantom. I love the spell he casts on stage and on Christine Daaé. No surprises there, I suppose! This brings to mind a cascade of other childhood memories I’ve been having lately, all little signs and epiphanies on what, very early on, hinted at my awakening kinky interests. I should write about some of those memories sometime.
But now: to sleep!
Little Lotte, let her mind wonder. Little Lotte thought, “Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or of shoes?”
Or of riddles or frogs?
Those picnics in the attic.
Or of chocolates.
Father playing the violin
As we read to each other, dark stories of the north
No, “What I loved best,” Lotte Said, “was when I was asleep in my bed.”
And the angel of music sings songs in my head
Christine and Raoul:
The angel of music sings songs in my head.
You sang like an angel tonight.
Father said “When I am in heaven, Child, I will send the angel of music to you.” Well, father is dead, Raoul. And I have been visited by the angel of music.
Oh, no doubt of it. And now, we go to dinner.
No, Raoul, the angel of music is very strict.
Well I shant keep you up late. (Laughs)
You must change. I’ll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte.
No, Raoul, wait!
Insolent boy/this slave of fashion/basking in your glory/Ignorant fool/this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!
Angel, I hear, you/Speak, I listen/Stay by my side, guide me/Angel, my soul was weak/forgive me/Enter at last, master.
Flattering child, you shall know me/See why in shadow I hide/Look at your face in the mirror/I am there inside
Angel of music/guide and guardian/grant to me your glory/angel of music/hide no longer/come to me, strange angel.
I am your angel of music/come to me, angel of music.
Whose is that voice? Who is that in there?
I am your angel of music
Come to me, angel of music
“My left ear is still sore, Sir.”
– I could balance it out.
” … That’s alright, Sir.
…According to my parents, the shape of my earlobes means I’m a selfish person.”
– I don’t think you’re selfish, girl. I think you’re the farthest thing from selfish.
“Well, if you believe Ayn Rand’s philosophies, selfishness is the highest virtue -”
– I don’t think you’re very virtuous, either.
Written 04/30/2010 while I waited to board my flight…
I’m writing this from San Francisco International Airport, but who knows when I will actually be able to post it. I’m still appalled that this airport doesn’t offer free wireless.
I don’t know what it is about this particular morning, or this particular airport, but I’m feeling inexplicably moody. Suddenly and without warning, thoughts of Tim are flooding my mind. It still happens every so often (though less and less frequently) that I get sudden flares of residual anger surrounding this man. And with each instance I have to close my eyes and just let it take its course. And always, the same questions. Why? How could he? How could I be so naïve? So stupid?
And each time I get angry at myself. Three years gone, and still he can affect me like this. Three years, yet I can still remember, with vivid detail, every feature of his face. Sometimes I think he will always be there, a hidden ghost haunting my every relationship, questioning the trust I place in each person. After all, I’ve more or less determined that my kink is a large, necessary part of my being and will always be a prominent part of my life, and Tim will always be the man with whom I first explored kink.
Human minds have this annoying propensity for remembering milestones and landmarks, personal or otherwise.
And then there was the instance, after many months of silence following my departure, where I got a cryptic, late-night IM from him. It said, simply: you still don’t know what you’re missing do you.
I felt a clutch of fear from reading this, not knowing how to interpret the message. But I never responded. Remembering, now, I still feel that clutch of fear.
Still … I have come a long way, I think. I no longer question my self worth or wonder whether or not I ever meant anything to him. I no longer wonder whether my absence burned as much of a hole in his life as his did in mine. The wound has closed, and only the faintest of scars, it seems, remains.
So perhaps I have just brushed against that scar this morning, reminding me that it is even there. And no – I still don’t know what it is he feels I’m missing. It certainly is not him, and I am content never to see or hear of him again. If he means to imply that I am lacking a more fulfilling life for having left him – well, the mere thought is incredulous and scoff-worthy. As a friend and confidant stressed repeatedly throughout this period of time, the best revenge I can have is to live a fulfilling, rich life and to create my own happiness.
I think, so far, I’m heading down the right path.