05-18-2019 | A morbid thought, but interesting nonetheless.

I’ve just had an interesting, and honestly rather fucked-up thought. before I share it with you, however, I think you need some back story so as to not think I’m completely mad. Three points really, the first being that I’ve had 2 Redbulls and a cup of coffee within the last 6 hours. The second is that I’ve recently started rewatching Criminal Minds on Netflix, and subsequently I’ve started to learn and think more about psychology and criminology. Neither of the first two points are uncommon for me, as most of my friends know. I have an affinity for pretty much all caffeinated beverages AND I find both psychology and criminology positively fascinating. The third point is a bit odd with respect to my normal behaviors, though. This is where this post gets…R-rated? It’s about kink, and consent and a hookup I recently had (and thoroughly enjoyed, mind you). I discovered a particular kink not too long ago, one of the aspects of which is being called, or calling others, “good boy” or ”good girl.” Before you judge me and get all huffy, just remember that you’re an adult. Please act like one. I digress; I’ve come to quite enjoy this kink, at least in theory, so when my hookup-to-be said he’d oblige some of my curiosities, I was thrilled. To sum it up in a non-pornographic manner, I was asked, “do you want to be a good boy?” as an incentive for performing a specific act. I happily obeyed, and have no regrets. This isn’t a telling of how I feel like I’ve been abused or coerced, but now, several days later, it’s gotten me thinking about how closely we kinksters walk the line between kink and abuse.

Let’s take a look at a kink, or category thereof to be more specific, that we’ve all probably heard of: BDSM. For those of you not hip to the lingo, BDSM stands for “bondage, discipline (or domination), sadism, and masochism.” This kink often involves dominant and submissive partners, practices involving pain such as flogging and hot wax, the restraining of one or more partners with ropes or straps, and lots of role-playing. This is an elementary explanation, and I encourage you to read more from people more experienced than myself if you’re curious. What I aim to highlight is that, to an outsider, these practices can look extremely abusive, and without proper consent, can be. What separates tying a partner to a bed and restraining a rape victim is consent and communication. My hookup and I discussed what each other wanted and agreed to a set of rules; he didn’t just assume he could get what he wanted out of me and be done with it, and neither did I.

This brings up a question then: Where is the line? What is considered abuse, and what is considered consensual? that’s not a simple question to answer. everybody is different, every relationship and hookup has different dynamics, and everyone has their own limits and interests. Kink can turn into abuse, however. It’s a fine line for some, and a glaring stripe for others, and I certainly can’t answer the question for you. And neither can anyone else. This is something that’s been on my mind for a few hours and I thought it’d make an interesting, however morbid, discussion of sexuality, consent, and abuse, and what ties them together as well as separates them.

04-28-2019 | It's too hot

I’ve hated the heat for as long as I can remember. My family and I moved from always-60-with-a-gentle-breeze Santa Maria, California when I was 9. Now we live in Matthews, North Carolina, a small-ish town about 30 minutes from Charlotte; a quickly growing suburban area who’s average temperature is well above 75 degrees from mid spring to late fall. And it’s fucking humid here, too. Being the North Carolina piedmont, there’s no cooling mountain wind from the north-west, nor a refreshing salt-air breeze from the Atlantic , just polluted stagnate humid Charlottean air. To make matters worse, I live with my grandfather who keeps the house 80 degrees in the summer. 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Who the fuck does that? And the cherry on top; I don’t have a car, a driver license, or any money, which is all my fault but not really the point right now. That’s all to say I couldn’t go anywhere with air conditioning even if I wanted to. 

so I just sit here in my room, the only room in the house kept below 80 degrees, and watch random YouTube videos and scroll through Twitter all day. On the bright side, if you really wanna call it that, I’ve finally found a job after more than 6 months of searching. Starting tomorrow I’ll be a cashier at my nearest Harris Teeter, a grocery store, for those of you fortunate enough to not live in the south. The goal, thus far unbeknownst to my family, is to save enough money for a car, the cheapest insurance I can find, an apartment in Wilmington, NC, and several months of rent plus other expenses. If my math is correct, and it usually is, I’ll have enough for the move in 19 months if I’m conservative with my paychecks. Saving money and making good decisions, as you can probably gather from my circumstances, has never been my strong suit. I’m not unintelligent, just careless. But I can’t handle Matthews for much longer. 

Since we’re pretty much a suburb of Charlotte, the people here are…how do I put this lightly? pretentious? Entitled? I don’t really have a word for it. The people here create a vibe that’s difficult for me to explain. Charlotte, though it is changing, is first and foremost a business center. It’s the banking capital of the south-east, if not he entire US, and that sense if importance and formality is ingrained in those who live here. We have the Bank of America stadium and the Nascar Hall of Fame, but other than that there’s really nothing to do except work. Sure there’re bars and restaurants aplenty, but every city in America has that. Add to the lack of entertainment, the skyrocketing cost of living and crumbling infrastructure, and you have a recipe for a lot of very unhappy people who only know “sleep, work, eat.” It’s not that bad in Matthews, but there’s definitely a no-chill-ever vibe here that I just don’t jive with. 

Wilmington has its fair share of issues too, don’t get me wrong. From Duke Energy dumping coal ash into the Cape Fear River, to gang violence, to the highest rate of human trafficking in the United States. The difference is that the community there knows about the issues and is actually trying to do something about it. Not to mention, pretty much everyone who lives there has one thing that Charlotteans just can’t seem to figure out: chill. Whether you’re rich or poor, young or old, you hang out at the same bars and go to the same beaches. And anyone can have a conversation with anyone, about pretty much anything, even if their view points differ. Imagine that. 

All that took a turn I wasn’t expecting, but that’s how I feel. These are the things I think about when it’s too hot and humid to go outside and be productive. I’m left with my thoughts, cooped up in my little messy bedroom with my window a/c unit cranked to full blast. I’m not good at endings, nor do I know when I’ll next write one of these, so I guess It’s goodbye for now.