Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the month “November, 2016”

Taking a break

I was simply going to stop posting for a while, withdraw and disappear as is my typical MO, but then I got two comments on here this morning, within minutes of each other, that changed my mind. I owe my readers some sort of explanation.

The first comment was from a lovely woman, pleading for me to come back. The second was, of course, completely anonymous. It read, in part, as follows:

I’m so sick and tired of the ignorant, misinformed, uneducated, biased, spoiled brat liberals who like little children overdosed on sugar, cry, whine and go into tantrums when they don’t get their way. Too bad.
This country will never unify until they grow up and become adults.

I’ve seen a lot of this lately.

First, my reply:

Anonymous — 1. Thanks for showing, yet again, what’s wrong with this country. No, it’s not people like me, it’s people like you — hostile, nasty, taking anonymous shots at others. 2. If you think this way of me, then stop wasting your time (and mine) and don’t read my blog anymore. 3. This country will never unify, period. Not as long as we have a broken two-party system that ensures that every 4-8 years, half the country is happy and half is miserable.

And I am serious about my second point. If this is how you feel about me, then please stop reading my blog. I don’t need contemptuous readers, and you don’t need to read the words of yet another “crybaby liberal.”

I am backing off from this blog, and greatly cutting back my participation on social media. Why the blog? Simple. I have nothing on-topic to post, and I don’t think I will in the foreseeable future. And no one wants to see it turn into a political venue. There’s way too much of that shit already.

Why social media? Because it’s an ugly and sad place to be right now. Members of both sides are behaving badly — some sneering and gloating with contempt, others fighting and angry and refusing to accept. People have told me we need to fight. Fight for what? It’s done. All the denial, all the use of the “#NotMyPresident” hashtag won’t make a bit of difference. And inundating myself with the minute by minute, 24/7 misery helps nothing and no one. I seek voices of reason, of moderation, but they seem few and far between. So, I am still on Twitter, but on an extremely limited capacity. On Facebook, I play Scrabble and Words With Friends, and occasionally comment on posts of others, but little else. And I haven’t touched FetLife.

On top of all this… John called me early Monday morning from work. His colleague, and his closest friend of ten years, passed away suddenly this past weekend, in his sleep. Heart failure. He was a lovely man, only 59 years old, married, three kids, grandkids. Everyone loved him. John is broken, and my heart is broken for him. Our friend’s memorial is on Friday, and over 100 people are expected to show up.

So… yeah. My depression has kicked in full bore. I function. I get up, I get dressed. I do my work. Fortunately, as timing would have it, I have a lot of it. My friends, all dealing with their own stresses and pain, feel very far removed. I have not seen Steve for two weeks. He wanted to come over yesterday. I told him not to. I have zero desire to play; it feels like that part of me has died. Or at least is hibernating so deeply, I don’t know where to find it. I told him he might want to consider finding an interim play partner as backup. He insists he’s not just my top, he’s my friend and my protector, and he wants to be there for me. But if I see him, I’ll just bawl the whole time. And I really should be working anyway. As I should now, so I’ll wrap this up.

This isn’t meant to be a big melodramatic goodbye post. It’s simply to inform those who care about what’s going on, and to let y’all know that I will be back when I have something fun, sassy and kinky to post again. When I’m no longer feeling like one of the walking dead.

Meanwhile, speaking of voices of reason, a compassionate friend sent me an article yesterday, written by the wise and wonderful George Takei. It felt like a soothing balm, so I’d like to share it with you, here.

Be kind to each other.

Sorry… no rant

Just complete despair.

I did not make it through last night staying offline. I should have turned off my cell as well, but I didn’t… and all the upset messages from friends came through.

I did not sleep very well.

Last night, hatred won. Last night, racism, misogyny, xenophobia, elitism and ignorance won. Last night, our nation’s biggest nightmare became a sick reality show. Last night, a man who cannot even control his temper in the middle of the night on Twitter got our nuclear codes.

Welcome to the New Order. Welcome to The Donald Show.

I am sick. And afraid. So very afraid.

EDIT:  It’s now 8:20 P.M. The first day has passed. I have wept copious tears. I managed to do a bit of work, but now I have to stop, because my eyes are so swollen I can barely see. I tried going to the gym, and left after 15 minutes. Just couldn’t do it.

I stayed off social media for the most part today. I think I will probably do so for a while. Because all I’m seeing is a lot of anger and fear on one side, and a lot of gloating and cheering on the other. But hey, David Duke of the KKK is happy. Today, someone spray-painted “Sieg Heil 2016” — complete with swastika — on a window in Philadelphia.

Something else I saw a lot of today: people sneering at those of us who are upset and sad. I saw a lot of “oh, stop with the melodrama,” “quit crying and get over it,” “buck up and shut up” — that sort of thing. So compassionate.

People are protesting all over, from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles. I don’t know what they’re hoping to accomplish. It’s too late. The hashtag #NotMyPresident is all over Twitter. Yes, he IS our president; well, will be in a couple of months. All the tweeting and protesting in the world won’t change that. We have to mourn, and then hopefully move on and do the best we can.

I wonder if I will ever feel like playing again. Right now, my desire is gone. And my heart is broken.

Fair warning, kids

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA. But the simple truth is, I haven’t felt like writing.

I haven’t felt like doing much of anything, really. My sense of responsibility gets my work done. My sense of vanity gets me to the gym… barely. But other than the necessary basics, all I really want to do is sleep. The rest, I drag myself through kicking and screaming inside. My nerves are shot.

No, it’s not depression. It’s a soul sickness, a deep well of frozen fear and anxiety, a profound sense of powerlessness over all the ugliness and dissension around me — including the helpless rage within my own gut. I know I’m not fooling anyone — you all know who I voted for (already have, by mail). If we’re friends on Twitter or Facebook, you’ve seen what I post. But for the most part, I really, truly tried to keep politics off this blog. I tried to stay on topic. Lately, though, my desire for the topic has waned, along with my libido, my energy, my interest in all things fun. Because I am so consumed with this miserable cesspool of an election. Last week, Steve came over, and we didn’t play. Because I was so despondent, I wasn’t up for it.

So… here is my plan for tomorrow night. I am going to do my best to stay offline. My television will not be tuned into anything but the nostalgia channels or NetFlix. I will not immerse myself in the blow by blow of the incoming results and make myself crazier than I’m already feeling. Then Wednesday morning, I will get up, log on, and cautiously, hopefully, fearfully peek in to see who is president.

And then I will weep. Either in utter despair, or in pure, sweet relief.

If those tears are indeed of relief, once I pick myself up off the floor, I’m coming on here and posting an epic rant, the likes of which you’ve never seen from me before. I’m going to give a certain person a torrential tirade of profanity and contempt, a single-finger sendoff. I’m going to get all the poison out of my system, once and for all, and move on.

Why? Because I want to, and it’s my damn blog. Because I need to.

So… stay tuned. Or not. Your choice.

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