Yearly Archives: 2008

And Then It Was 2009

New Year’s Eve Morn and my coffee soon runs out. Snow’s still melting all around us. The sky is indecisive about the day ahead, black as fuck on one horizon and sunny to beat all hell on the other.
Is it a statement about the year that passes us by today? It was this way or that, and never anywhere in between?
Because I don’t know about you, but mine was never very middling. Hard as hell most of the time, but when it was good, my god, it was like I kissed the sky. Continue reading

Saying Hi, And Some Thoughts on Indulging

I started my year off antisocial and have decided to end it that way, too. Time to get my head on straight for the year to come — I’m going to work out every day this week, cook healthy tonight, and take some time to myself out in the world.
I don’t have a lot to say yet, as it’s been a strange few days, but I will. ๐Ÿ™‚
I did, however, make myself a promise tonight as I sat there soaking in a hot baby-oil-filled bath, sipping quality rye whisky and eating dark chocolate, and this is that: I will continue to enjoy good things like quality chocolate, but there’s a new rule. If I’m to “indulge”, I will do so in grand and glorious fashion.
Like, tonight, it was only an ounce of chocolate and 1.5 ounces of whisky, but enjoying them in a hot bath made it seem like it was so much more. It’s about quality this year. If I’m indulging, it’s not going to be a Reese’s Peanut Butter cup as I walk home from the bus, but rather a quality dessert shared with a friend, or 80% dark cocoa, or some other fantastic reason I should be cheating for.
Because a life without indulgences is a life lived on the sullen side.
Hope you’re enjoying the season, readers. ๐Ÿ™‚

Steff Does 55 — Fiction, That Is

When I do write fiction, it’s really dark.
I was playing around and decided to try a “55-word Fiction” piece, and this was what I came up with, and thought I’d share:

The hammer came down. Then the plank hit the floor and bounced. Michael went flying through the air. His head cracked open on the corner and his body dropped heavily to the hardwood below.
In the room next door, the sudden silence scared her more than the sickening crack, but then she saw the blood.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night

It’s 3:30am and my brother’s asleep on my couch, my nephew’s crashed in my bed, and snow is everywhere.
Vancouver has had a once-in-half-a-century snowfall. Come a couple hours from now they’ll be measuring at the airport, and weather guys think we’ll be “blowing apart” the record set 45 years ago for the most snow ever on Christmas. This snowy street shot was taken just before 10am on Christmas Eve day. It snowed for another eight hours, mostly real, real hard, after that.
We likely won’t be seeing the family on Christmas Day. We might do our Christmas one night next week, instead. More suspense about gifts.
But that’s okay. Christmas shouldn’t have to remain one day of the year. And it shouldn’t be just about gifts.
Anyhow. I wish everyone a little peace this Christmas. And if you’re alone this holiday season, here’s hoping you’re enjoying it despite yourself.
The photos I’ve shared here are both from my neighbourhood. The snowy street is of the 2+feet that was on the ground one Christmas eve morning, and the snowy sunrise taken after our first big dump of snow, from my balcony, three or four days ago.
I love the miracle of snow. ๐Ÿ™‚

Thoughts On Community: In With the Out Crowd

It’s funny, this whole “sex blogger community” thing. I’m all for it, but I don’t feel part of it at all. Not because people don’t include me, they do. It’s just… it’s complicated.
I’ve always felt this way, but in the recent months my feelings have been given a boost and now I feel sort of even more isolated and unsexblogger. What’s been the recent impetus for that?
Twitter. Flat-out. See, I’ve got a little over 400 followers or so now, and I follow about 160 people or so. In the beginning, I tapped the people I recognized from blogging, they tapped me back, and I guess as I began yammering all the whacked shit I do, and what with the moniker “SmuttySteff“, my sex following grew, but thanks to my always-weird Twitter feed, also began growing past the mostly sex-blog writing-and-reading community.
Real-time comments from others in the community, about their sexual hijinks, who they’re screwing, what dates they have lined up, chronicles of their masturbation, what new toys they’ve received, how they’re dressing for X, their social interactions, and so forth, juxtaposed against the very vanilla-like-me feeds of others, just all has served to remind me that there’s a very big distinction between being a fan of sex and having really healthy attitudes about it versus being an enthusiast who seeks to keep it present in their life at all times, some of whom might be defined as “lifestylers”.
Debauched Domestic Diva wrote an interesting post this week in which she speaks of “The Lifestyle” and how she feels there seems to be this almost clique-ish attitude in the BDSM community about whether you’re a “lifestyler” or not.

I don’t mean to offend or insult anyone who uses that phrase in their lives and I am sorry if I do, but it confuses the hell out of me because I don’t really understand what it exactly means other than that judgemental feeling I get when I see or hear it. I don’t know if it means you are poly, kinky or what.
I have such a wide range of people in my life these days who all seem to be into something different. Which one of their lives if the correct lifestyle? Maybe someone can explain better to me and help me understand it because I know that right now all I am trying to do these days is just live my life.

I agree with DDD. I don’t have a “lifestyle”. Likely never will. I’m just this girl who got tired of feeling like a “slut” just because she wanted to have a little better sex. I’m 35 now, I’ve never been the type to sleep around. I don’t have multiple partners, ever. I don’t have someone lined up for a filler-shag in between relationships, and have never had someone there in that capacity. I don’t go to sex parties. I don’t really use or look for or even have porn, it’s just not my thing. I prefer my photography erotic, and certainly seek it out at times. On top of that, I have opinions on sex work that run contrary to what most of the active sex blog community believes.
I like sex. I make no apologies for the sex I like. And I sure as hell don’t judge others for having the sex THEY like. Because THAT is what it is all about. But, when I don’t have sex in my life, that’s just fine with me. I’m all right with that. I’m not a lifestyler. It’s not even a hobby for me.
But one of the problems with the sex blog community is, when I’m opting out of the sex race and dating chaos, I feel like I somehow should apologize for it. Like, “how can I like sex if I’m not raving about it daily?” I don’t think anyone’s ever made me FEEL that way, but just stacked up against the oh-so-public exploits I hear, I’m often left feeling like someone let the kindergarten kids into the grade seven class again. I’m just left feeling like I’m somehow out of my league because I don’t do it LIKE THAT.
Which is bullshit.
Because the sex I have is the sex that’s right for me. It gets me hot, keeps me hot, tends to keep me indoors, and keeps me very, very satiated — when I go there. The life I lead is the life I need to be leading right now. The lifestyle I have suits MY style for the time being. I don’t have a lifestyle. I have mystyle. I don’t need to be in relationships. I don’t need approval from anyone else. I don’t have to be sexually engaged to feel a part of my world, or even on top of it.
Not that anyone else in the community does feel they need to lead the life they do, or that they need to do so publicly for any kind of approval. I’m just saying, from my perspective, how I sometimes feel about my own exploits or the glaring lack thereof — probably mostly because I’m fully aware in a first-person kinda way of how plain and unglamourous my little existence is.
But it’s MY life. I’m doing what I need to be doing for ME. Is that really not right? Is it not “good enough” to be a part of the community? Is it just not in keeping with what’s going on out there? Or does it even matter at all?
Judging by the fact that I feel welcomed and appreciated by the community, even if I don’t really feel as if *I* belong there, it doesn’t look like it matters much at all. And that’s very nice.
Yet the fact remains. Here I am, leading a pretty “vanilla” life comparatively, and day-in, day-out, I’m reminded of that fact because I can vicariously experience some of these others’ exploits in real-time through the social world of Twitter. Let’s face it. I’m just that old-school good-girl who’s only as bad as she needs to be to have a good time. How’d I ever get running with this crowd anyhow? It’s a weird, weird world, friends. Still, it’s a fun ride.

Let Rick Warren Speak.

This will offend a lot of people’s sentiments, and I don’t care, I’m saying it anyhow.
I am absolutely pro-gay rights. I am completely for gay marriage and gay adoption rights. I loathe violence against gays, and think “hate crimes” prosecutions should be used not only more frequently, but more vehemently.
That said, it’s times like these when the gay rights movement really pisses me off. The childlike in-the-streets revolutions after the Prop 8 scandal were infuriating, but this outcry against Rick Warren being selected to speak at Obama’s inauguration just smacks of utter hypocrisy, and someone has to say it.
In a nutshell, gays want respect to live their lives as they see fit. They want to be respected for their differing viewpoints and lifestyle choices. They want inclusion. They want equality.
Yet they want to un-include a man who commands respect as one of America’s religious leaders who happens to oppose their viewpoint. They want him kicked out of the big flashy party, unable to speak, and they want him to lose validation in the eyes of the country’s leaders. Am I really the only one who doesn’t get it? Continue reading

"The Truth Is, I'm Lonely"

It’s morning, before 7, there’s both fresh snow and fresh coffee. I was spent by 10 last night and fell asleep during Eli Stone, so I’m finishing it off before I begin the painful commute to work.
There’s a moment when, after a promising four-date relationship crumbles to dust, Eli says simply, “It’s not like I connect with a different woman every week. …The truth is, I’m lonely.”
I had a Fail Date Saturday. It’s complicated. I don’t really want to fill you in. But it was one of those second/third dates with promise that ends with a reality cheque you probably don’t feel like cashing, but the jig’s up, baby. Continue reading

Steffโ€™s Easy-Start Guide to Changing Your Life: Part Two

I began this series last month, here’s part one. It’s pretty unstructured, but the early part of the series is focusing on the head game, because without the head game down, you’ll have no success. It’s all in the head game.
The most important thing you need to do if you want to effect serious change in your life is stop bullshitting yourself. No more excuses. Get it done.
What, you want to wait until everything’s perfect and momentum is good, the clouds are gone and the humidity is stable? Right. Come back here to Planet Earth, where rarely do you ever get what you want when you want it, even in restaurants where you’re paying for precisely that.
That’s why you gotta take what you want. Fuck happenstance and trials and tribulations. Shit happens, always will happen. That’s how life unfolds. I’m down 60 pounds this year, even though the last four months have been consumed with bouts of insomnia, several illnesses, debilitating back injuries, cockroaches infesting my home, and even overtime for the last three weeks steady while rehabbing my back injury, and yet I’ve lost 25 pounds in that time. Continue reading

Why, Hello, Mr. Scale!

As of today — meaning, before the turkey and gravy and decadence and having family stay with me and all that — I have lost 60 pounds. 60!
I had to squint. See, I use this 1950s scale that was my mom’s and my grandma’s before her. Don’t knock it, it’s as accurate as the doctor’s office. You go spend your $90 on your digital thingie with its bells and whistles and bullshit, I’m fine with this guy.
‘Cos I’ve lost 60 pounds! YAY! From 275 down to 215. ๐Ÿ™‚
Bring on 2009, ‘cos I’m gonna kick its ass too! YEAH, BABY.

A Long Overdue Report on the State of the Steffs

I really wanted to write on the weekend, and I don’t know why I’ve not been able to get into the mood of it. I’ve been exhausted, overworked, stretched too thin, all of that. I’m in a good mood, so I’m not depressed or anything. I’m just sort of being a Steff-of-all-things for everybody else that I’ve got too little of me left for me these days, and I guess writing would mean I’d have even less left. Sometimes, the curtains pulled, lights down low, doors locked, and calendar free, and nothing accomplished, well, it all adds up to saving a bit of yourself when it doesn’t seem you’ve got much of it left.
It certainly doesn’t do much to help the blog out, now, does it?
That’s just the way the existential cookie crumbles, though. Yesterday was my accomplish-nothing day, and fuck I loved it.
Now here it is, 9 minutes to 9, and I should be on the bus to Adiosville and work, but instead I’ve foolishly begun to blog. I guess this is how it begins. The “I shouldn’t, but I will” posting cracks the veneer of protectiveness that develops when you stop posting daily or whatever, and slowly I get back into the mode. I want to blog, it’s the doing-of-it that’s the problem. Life just has different ideas. Normally I have enough flexibility in my schedule I can bump things and stay home to write no matter when the urge hits. Not these days. Continue reading