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Half Naked Thursday: A devotional
Jun. 25th, 2013 12:25 amIt's been a while since I did a Half-Naked Thursday. (long enough that I feel I should remind recent readers what it is1), but here, this evening deserves one.
Today's comes in two parts. The first is a picture. The second is a memory I have never told anyone.
I am holding a scrap of paper with a drawing of a pony on it. Magus did it, possibly when we were dating, possibly before? A long damn time ago. I don't remember what caused it, beyond probably my usual declaration that "I want a pony".
It lives in a little treasure chest, with other interesting things.
Mostly this is just to say that I will keep things forever --I still have every love letter I've ever been written-- and if they are precious enough, I will take them out sometimes, because remembering good things is in itself a good thing.
***
A few days before Thanksgiving in 2007 (my freshman year of college, first semester) someone close to me had to go to the hospital for a few days for self-harming ideation. It freaked me out when I found out, and late at night I panicked and asked Marc if I could come over and get a talkdown. He made me tea and I sat in his kitchen and we talked.
Later, he handed me a copy of a book he was fond of2, and I sat up all night reading that with him sleeping on me. It was exactly what I needed, someone a good enough friend to take care of me, and a good enough person to not do it at the expense of themself.
As I walked back to Lesley, in time for my eight AM class, I realized that I was Perfect, and had all the forgiveness I could want or need from the world. For a very long time afterwards, my driving force in life was finding that feeling again.
Anyways, shortly after my entire life went to brilliant technicolour shit for a few weeks, but having someone who I trusted to take care of me when I wasn't able to take care of myself --and I wasn't, fucked up eighteen year old Sorcy is _so_ young-- was what gave me the courage to approach that same person and beg for the distraction that was going dancing. I danced my first waltz with Magus3 at Springstep on Monday, November 26th, 2007.
Tonight I danced my last waltz at Springstep.
They haven't all belonged to him. A few have belonged to other people I care for, Jessie, Brenton, Kchen, Alex, once even to Sparr, I think. But there was once when Jessie was there and so was Magus and his girlfriend and as he and she moved across the floor with one another, Jessie followed my gaze and said quietly to me "I see why you have such high standards for waltzing".
And that's really it. I learned how to waltz at Oella, at the Big House, from Larry and Chort and Liana. But I perfected my waltz at Springstep, after Scottish, with Magus. I have impossibly high standards for waltzing, because I was taught by someone uncommonly good.
They haven't all belonged to him, but tonight's did. Because a very long time ago, more than half a decade ago, I put my faith and trust into someone who cared for me, and then he taught me to waltz. Last waltzes have meaning, and tonight was the last night I will ever dance in the ballroom that watched me hone my skill.
Thank you Marc.
~R.
MOOP!
1: Half-Naked Thursday is a term that floats through some parts of the sex blogger realm. It's...on Thursdays you post photos of yourself half-naked. I like the cadence of the phrase very much, so I use it to make posts revealing more of myself than usual. They are basically never on Thursdays, although the very first one was. Hit up the HNT tag for more.
2: Another Day, Another Dungeon. I now remember exactly nothing about it, which means perhaps I should reread it.
3: Probably. Actually, certainly not, there was one at Balticon in 2007, and I only remember it because it was painful, for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Magus and everything to do with...well, we'll talk about that another time. This is a happy post.
Today's comes in two parts. The first is a picture. The second is a memory I have never told anyone.
I am holding a scrap of paper with a drawing of a pony on it. Magus did it, possibly when we were dating, possibly before? A long damn time ago. I don't remember what caused it, beyond probably my usual declaration that "I want a pony".
It lives in a little treasure chest, with other interesting things.
Mostly this is just to say that I will keep things forever --I still have every love letter I've ever been written-- and if they are precious enough, I will take them out sometimes, because remembering good things is in itself a good thing.
***
A few days before Thanksgiving in 2007 (my freshman year of college, first semester) someone close to me had to go to the hospital for a few days for self-harming ideation. It freaked me out when I found out, and late at night I panicked and asked Marc if I could come over and get a talkdown. He made me tea and I sat in his kitchen and we talked.
Later, he handed me a copy of a book he was fond of2, and I sat up all night reading that with him sleeping on me. It was exactly what I needed, someone a good enough friend to take care of me, and a good enough person to not do it at the expense of themself.
As I walked back to Lesley, in time for my eight AM class, I realized that I was Perfect, and had all the forgiveness I could want or need from the world. For a very long time afterwards, my driving force in life was finding that feeling again.
Anyways, shortly after my entire life went to brilliant technicolour shit for a few weeks, but having someone who I trusted to take care of me when I wasn't able to take care of myself --and I wasn't, fucked up eighteen year old Sorcy is _so_ young-- was what gave me the courage to approach that same person and beg for the distraction that was going dancing. I danced my first waltz with Magus3 at Springstep on Monday, November 26th, 2007.
Tonight I danced my last waltz at Springstep.
They haven't all belonged to him. A few have belonged to other people I care for, Jessie, Brenton, Kchen, Alex, once even to Sparr, I think. But there was once when Jessie was there and so was Magus and his girlfriend and as he and she moved across the floor with one another, Jessie followed my gaze and said quietly to me "I see why you have such high standards for waltzing".
And that's really it. I learned how to waltz at Oella, at the Big House, from Larry and Chort and Liana. But I perfected my waltz at Springstep, after Scottish, with Magus. I have impossibly high standards for waltzing, because I was taught by someone uncommonly good.
They haven't all belonged to him, but tonight's did. Because a very long time ago, more than half a decade ago, I put my faith and trust into someone who cared for me, and then he taught me to waltz. Last waltzes have meaning, and tonight was the last night I will ever dance in the ballroom that watched me hone my skill.
Thank you Marc.
~R.
MOOP!
1: Half-Naked Thursday is a term that floats through some parts of the sex blogger realm. It's...on Thursdays you post photos of yourself half-naked. I like the cadence of the phrase very much, so I use it to make posts revealing more of myself than usual. They are basically never on Thursdays, although the very first one was. Hit up the HNT tag for more.
2: Another Day, Another Dungeon. I now remember exactly nothing about it, which means perhaps I should reread it.
3: Probably. Actually, certainly not, there was one at Balticon in 2007, and I only remember it because it was painful, for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Magus and everything to do with...well, we'll talk about that another time. This is a happy post.