So I've started another blog. I'm up to four now; that might explain why I'm so inconsistent about writing to any particular one.
This is the primary blog. It's about being multiple, being poly, being kinky, about being me. Mostly, it's about being multiple, but the kinky and poly and other stuff all tend to bleed through. So really, this is 'my blog', in the sense of what a blog is typically used for.
The second blog I have is for my fiction writing, http://moretoconsider.blogspot.com. I have two ongoing stories going: More to Consider - vanilla girls meets kinky guy, gets into kink - and The Lockbox - girl wakes up locked in a storage box, at the mercy of some man. I have a series of kinky short stories, under the umbrella title Kink Me. Sam has written one short and intends to write more, under the umbrella title Sam And. And Paul has written a post with his memories, and intends to write more, under the umbrella title Be. There's also a vampire story and some poetry.
The third blog I have is my collection of quotations, at http://quotefiles.blogspot.com/. I love quotations. From well-known classic authors to Bible verses to bumper stickers, any quote I enjoy ends up there. I also have an entry of Toasts and one for 'Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Firefly'.
And now the fourth one. Stories of Tori - http://storiesoftori.blogspot.com/. I'm going to start recording some of the stories I tell over and over again about my daughter, what a cool person she is, being a parent, all kinds of things. I like to think that maybe one day I'll print them all into a book to give her, to share as she wishes with her own children.
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Thinking about these stories makes me sad. Because in many cases, what I remember is the story, not the actual event. My memories are so tenuous without some anchor to hold them to me, and sooner or later, it is the anchor that I remember. This was brought home last night to me, when I was scanning some old pictures onto the computer. Some of them were tucked behind other pictures, so when I took the first out of a frame, I found more. And some of these 'more' pictures, I don't remember. I mean, looking at them, I begin to remember the picture. But I don't really remember the time of the picture being taken.
For instance, there are a set of photos taken of me as a little girl in a velvet & lace dress, and then as a big girl in a velvet & lace blouse. They were taken by a particular photographer, along with others, and displayed at my house growing up. They were great photos; they won awards and everything. We decided, when my daughter was little, to get her picture taken at the same age in the same dress and blouse, in something close to the same pose. Since we knew that we had my picture taken at ages four and twelve, we had hers taken at ages four and twelve. Last night I scanned the photos in. And on my photo, on the back, was a date. It was taken when I was six, not four.
I've known for twenty-plus years that that was a picture of me at four years old. How did I know this? Because I remember hearing my Mom say it. And yet, there's the proof; I was six. Did she remember my age incorrectly? Or is it my memory that is faulty?
I scanned nearly 40 pictures. And with many of them, I remember the picture, but not the event pictured. Except for one. I found a picture of me with my mother. I am an adult, wearing a black dress with black velvet polka-dots. She is wearing a fancy white beaded dress. I think it was taken on a cruise we went on after I graduated. I'm pretty sure that's what it's from. But looking at the picture, I don't remember it being taken. What I do remember is the way the skirt of that black dress felt on my fingers. Looking at the black dress, I remember that I wore it in a choir competition in Chicago, with a women's chorus that I was in during college. Was it high school? No, I'm pretty sure it was college. And I ended up giving that dress to my mother, because she loved it, and it no longer fit me. So the photo doesn't give me the memory of the event it was taken for. But it does remind me of other memories - women's choir, and a gift to my mom.
I am self-diagnosed with multiple personalities. There are eight to ten of us in my head at any given time. Several of us are into the BDSM lifestyle; some of us are polyamorous. I'm also a regular person, in that I deal with the same things in life that everyone else does. However, I may deal with them in slightly different ways. Many of these posts could be triggering to some people - please read responsibly. There is a list of the alters on their own page, below.
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