Water

Last night I went to the first private play party I've gone to in quite some time. It's still a bit of a challenge to my comfort zones to go to these sorts of things. I like people (individuals, anyway), and would like to meet more people and have play partners and all that positive stuff, but am still working on the issues that got dragged up a few years ago. So it's a pretty big effort for me to approach people and talk to them and all that fun.

But this party was at a private residence, not a dungeon. Which is in some ways less intimidating, in other ways more. The exceptionally less intimidating part was that the house the party was at had a pool.

One thing you should know - I LOVE WATER. Put me in water I can stay in, and I'll be in there for hours. Fiance and I went to a hotel that had hot tubs in the rooms, and I set up my computer on the counter, and hung out in the hot tub for seven hours straight.

I love the feel of water against my skin - when I was younger, we had a pool. I would get up early in the morning so I could go skinny-dipping without my parents knowing.

Last night, the hosts said that the pool was OK for guests to use, and naked swimming was encouraged. I wasn't the first one to get naked, but I was early in the run.

I think I stayed in the pool for at least two/three hours. Just enjoying the warm water (it was a cool night, which always makes the water warmer) and swimming around. So no "playing" for me in the typical sense, but at least I got to indulge that sensual aspect, which hasn't happened in a long time.

It was a good night.

Blank page syndrome

I have issues sometimes. Well, no duh, all things considered. But my specific set of issues I'm referring to here is wanting to keep a journal/blog that's personal without being angsty; informative without being preachy, and entertaining without imitating people like Pervocracy or Hyperbole and a Half or The Bloggess. It's like, they've written about some of my issues better than I could. And they are awesome. So I sit down with this nice fresh screen in front of me and just go "...."

"I got nothing."

I'm also worried about being perceived as a whiner or just an emo person with emotional issues. Which is kind of silly, when I think about it, because, despite people's assertions to the contrary, we all care about what some people think of us. We might be fine ignoring the opinions of society at large (except when we're not, because having stuff like being queer or kinky or genderqueer or following a minority religion or being nonmonogamous be seen as not bad things would be such a fuckin' relief), but we all have someone who can crush us with that "I'm disappointed" look. And I'm afraid I'll be seen as badmouthing people like my exes, who, after all, didn't intend to be emotionally abusive and trigger some of the worse flashbacks and depressive episodes I've ever had. But then I wonder why that matters, all things considered.

I term these cyclical thoughts "brain hamsters." And wish my two kitties would start eating some of them.

What's in a name?

I'm starting this blog, and, assuming I actually get readers, a lot of people will probably wonder what the heck is up with this name. "Labent" is an adjective meaning "slipping, sliding, or gliding." "Lucency" is probably easier to figure out.  It basically means "the quality of shining with light, brilliance." I find that most of my moments of light, or brilliance, are rather slippery. Or fleeting. So it's a rather roundabout and convoluted way of saying "flashes of clarity." But not really. And having more "l."