This morning I participated in the Breast Cancer Awareness Walk in downtown Bloomington which was cool cause I met a lot of people and several folks brought their dogs and puppies to walk with them. That was really neat. I must admit I felt slightly out of place there, considering I didn’t really want to wear a pink t-shirt like everyone else and since I have some really naughty tattoos on my back, a lot of the elderly people seemed to stare at me quite a bit. I really felt “stared at” today which was really weird. Look people, I know I’m hot, but damn. *giggle*
I want to send a special thank you to a fan who goes by the name “hypnotits” at Inraptured who manipulated one of my erotic hypnosis video titled “Don’t Watch” and transformed it into a neat little hypnotic piece. I really like it! It’s short, but very effective I think. He also created the music himself! Here is the video he produced:
Also, today I received an invitation to a neighborhood Halloween/Fall Potluck. As you all know from a recent journal entry, I discussed how out of place I felt at last year’s neighborhood Christmas party. I just thought I didn’t fit in with everyone. Now I have the opportunity of going again, this time to a different neighbor’s house. I must admit I am anxious, nervous, and overwhelmed with thoughts at the moment. If I don’t go, I’ll be the black sheep of the neighborhood (or am I already?) and people will think I am being disrespectful. Especially since the people who invited me live RIGHT next door to me. They wave at me every time I see them and they know I work at home and will be there that day, so they *know* I have no excuses. And if I *do* go, then I fear it will be just like last year where all the chatter and clicking of glasses was like a scene out of the Twilight Zone. Don’t get me wrong, the neighbors are nice. None of them have shown any meanness or uncaring attitudes. The problem is, it all feels fake to me. It’s like something out of the movie The Truman Show or something. It truly feels like everyone is plastic and they respond the way they ought to respond, rather than giving true opinions.
I’m curious what some of them believe in terms of human rights, torture in different countries, the 2008 Olympics, and how many of them help charities since they obviously have enough money to spare. Perhaps I am just as guilty as stereotyping them without getting to them, however I often get the feeling I am on Candid Camera or something and all my neighbors are actors and actresses and I am the unknowing party who is about to be tricked. If any of you went to a party and everyone there was picture perfect and walked around like brainless zombies, wouldn’t you be a little scared to go next time? I truly would feel much more comfortable if EVERYONE was wearing latex, rubber, pvc, or leather. That’s right. I wish, just for a moment, that all my neighbors were slaves and Dommes and each one of them had collars around their necks or leashes in their hands. It’s an unlikely scenario, however - that’s probably the only true situation I’d feel the most comfortable. At least then I could dress the way I like and talk in vulgar language and bitchslap people who annoy me.
I’ve felt that over the past few months, I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable around straight, vanilla people. It feels as though I’ve been dropped out of my dungeon world and dropped into a living catalog of Sears models and people with picture-perfect lives. At least when I was heavier and far more obese, people wouldn’t stare at me like they do now (they ignored me sometimes, but didn’t outright stare at me). The funny thing is, I feel fantastic and confident when I look in the mirror and love myself, however, the minute I step outside into Boringville - whether it be going to the mall or the grocery store, I feel like I’ve put this invisible shield over me that’s intended to protect me from caring what people think, but it’s all a show. I do care what people think. I always have. I hate it when people don’t like me cause I try so hard to be nice to others. I’ve been looking through bookstores for books that could help me develop thicker skin, but haven’t really felt anything. It seems the more popular I become on the internet, the more hateful things are said to me or about me (partly because people figure I’m a celebrity of sorts and therefore insults can be hurled and not have any personal effect on me). I admit I’m guilty of doing the same when it comes to reading about Jessica Simpson or Nicole Richie. Sometimes I’m secretly thrilled at seeing their misery, which is horrible of me to do. They are human beings too and haven’t deserved such negative thinking from me. I don’t even know them or met them (as many people don’t know me or met me either). I am curious how people (like Kimora Lee Simmons) can receive positive and negative feedback and reviews and not let things get to them. I really am curious. I mean sure people say, “You can’t please everyone,” or, “Just don’t let it bother you,” or, “Take it with a grain of salt. Their opinions shouldn’t matter.” But there has to be something or some specific WAY to develop that mentality. It surely doesn’t happen overnight.
It really is strange for me to have such a public life on the internet with literally, thousands of fans and clients — and then step out in the real world and not know a damn person. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, maybe no one really knows me.
I picked up a hitchhiker yesterday afternoon (I don’t make a habit out of picking up potentially dangerous strangers), partly because I was desperate to just talk to someone REAL for once. Oh he was real all right. He kinda freaked me out because he was uneducated, illiterate, and a bigot. He hates black people and said any white person who dates a black person is a N-lover. He also dropped out of school in 6th grade and is now 55 years old without a house, a job, or a car. He can barely read or write and had much difficulty understanding our conversation. He wanted a ride to Martinsville (20 miles from where we were and 10 miles further than I was going) and I agreed. He put his hand out to shake his hand and it appeared sun-parched, dirty, and had blisters on it. I told him I wouldn’t shake his hand but assured him I appreciated the offer (it looked nasty, I wasn’t touching it). He immediately got offended and I spent the next ten minutes assuring him that I trust him and it wasn’t a sign of disrespect and said I had worked in a hospital before and get freaked out with germs and stuff. We talked about hitchhiking and how dangerous it can be and I asked him to promise me that he would be careful when getting into people’s cars and he said, “I don’t make promises,” and I told him that his statement offended me. He replied with, “Well now we’re even.” So we offended each other, basically.
When I finally dropped him off, he asked, “How much do I owe you?” And I said, “I got it, it’s my treat.” And he angrily said, “I don’t understand. What treat?” And I said, “It’s on me, I got it.” And he grew more frustrated because he didn’t understand the terminology and said, “What’s on you? What game are you trying to play?” And I said, “I don’t want anything from you. When someone says it’s their treat, it means they’re buying.” And he replied with, “I don’t understand. How much do you want?” At this point, I truly believed this guy was the dumbest idiot I had ever met and bluntly and sarcastically said, “You owe zero dollars.” He grew a big ole grin on his face and smiled and said thank you and left. I sat their dumfounded.
So um, even though I didn’t like the guy AND he stunk up my car cause I don’t think he took a bath in weeks — at least it made me feel as though the whole town wasn’t plastic. I don’t think The Truman Show would have hired him. So now I officially believe I am not living on the set of some wacked-out movie. Unless of course, he was a fired actor who happened to be roaming on the set.
More pics from today:
Standing up:
A cool watch from Hot Topic sent by a customer via the Siren:
Lying down:
I wanna hang someone from one of my beams, but I’m not sure if they’re designed for that. I guess I’ll have to call a contractor or something and see how sturdy they are.
I’ve got so many stretchmarks on my abdomen, it’s ridiculous. The photo shows some, but the closeup shows way more.
Click here to see closeup of stretchmarks
Love
Isabella
xooxoxo
They look reasonably solid beams, but I suppose it depends who you hang from them and how I guess. Bit out of my area of expertise, although I’d have to admit I’d be quite curious to experience being suspended from them.
i have stretch marks to they suck dont they
you are just a quick jaunt from here - i’m in chicago - you are welcome anytime and I promise you - your tattoo will only draw gawks of appreciation in my neighborhood…
“I’ve felt that over the past few months, I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable around straight, vanilla people. It feels as though I’ve been dropped out of my dungeon world and dropped into a living catalog of Sears models and people with picture-perfect lives. At least when I was heavier and far more obese, people wouldn’t stare at me like they do now (they ignored me sometimes, but didn’t outright stare at me). The funny thing is, I feel fantastic and confident when I look in the mirror and love myself, however, the minute I step outside into Boringville - whether it be going to the mall or the grocery store, I feel like I’ve put this invisible shield over me that’s intended to protect me from caring what people think, but it’s all a show. I do care what people think. I always have. I hate it when people don’t like me cause I try so hard to be nice to others. I’ve been looking through bookstores for books that could help me develop thicker skin, but haven’t really felt anything. It seems the more popular I become on the internet, the more hateful things are said to me or about me (partly because people figure I’m a celebrity of sorts and therefore insults can be hurled and not have any personal effect on me). I admit I’m guilty of doing the same when it comes to reading about Jessica Simpson or Nicole Richie. Sometimes I’m secretly thrilled at seeing their misery, which is horrible of me to do. They are human beings too and haven’t deserved such negative thinking from me. I don’t even know them or met them (as many people don’t know me or met me either). I am curious how people (like Kimora Lee Simmons) can receive positive and negative feedback and reviews and not let things get to them. I really am curious. I mean sure people say, “You can’t please everyone,” or, “Just don’t let it bother you,” or, “Take it with a grain of salt. Their opinions shouldn’t matter.” But there has to be something or some specific WAY to develop that mentality. It surely doesn’t happen overnight.”
I feel like that sometimes too. I hate when people just stare like something is wrong with me. And I can’t help that it bothers me. I try so hard to be nice to everyone … Its like, if someone ignores me or doesn’t like me, I feel so devastated.
So, I kinda know how you feel. You know what I wonder though … How many of them secretly fantasize about the things you do and never could imagine actually *doing* it? Hmmm.