all work and no play

I've had an unusually high amount of work the past few days, and I spent the weekend holed up in my apartment, writing an assignment for grad school.

I didn't even get to play with my pet -- he came to see me for dinner, but I had to send him home at midnight so I could get some sleep and keep working the next day. Of course, being denied the ability to play made playing the only thing I could think about. I've turned in my assignment, I've got a bag packed, and I'm off to see my little pet tonight.

The assignment was difficult for me -- it is the first time I've tried to bring my sexuality so much into my creative writing. I dredged up memories and experiences from years ago, in an effort to also address and deal with things that happened to me recently. I went back and wrote about the first time a submissive boy broke my heart. That moment reverberates off the other disappointments I've had since then, creating a little echo chamber of discomfort that isn't easy to live with. I felt a little bit like some parts of my psyche were melting down. I felt emotionally disheveled.

In the end, though, I think this is good for my writing. I remember once, when I was a college student, I worked for a poet as her personal assistant. She had this poem that seemed to be about a relationship ending between two people, but she told me that the energy behind the poem came from a miscarriage she'd had, not a breakup. And I found that so fascinating, that you can take one kind of pain and make it over into something more universal. Not everyone can relate to that moment when a submissive boy withdraws his consent to you, leaving you feeling powerless and stripped. But people can relate to other kinds of loss, so it is a matter of translating that experience into something more recognizable to the world at large.

The work is turned in, however, and now I get to play tonight.