So. Happy New Year.
Are we all sober now?
Truthfully, I don't see January 1st as anything other than an excuse to party. Nobody really believes in this whole "flip the calendar and start a brand new life" hullabaloo. You've still got weeks left of winter to look forward to, no more holidays, and let's face it, you're still the same you, only tired and dazed from all the holiday craze (and also possibly a few pounds heavier, only adding to your "resolutions" conundrum). January 1st has got to be the biggest buzzkill of the year. You wake up, and you realize--
nothing has fucking changed.
So maybe that's not exactly true around these parts. Husband is starting a new job. I'm starting work on a new book. I'm also dipping more into Facebook
(if you want to friend me there, be my guest, I'm turning away no one)
and looking into taking control over my blog content.
I'm enjoying my kids over the vacation, and attending munches I don't normally get a chance to go to. It's nice.
I went to a munch last night which was quite different from any munch or event I've heretofore been to: there was a huge number of younger people. By "younger," I mean people in their young twenties, mid-twenties tops; what those in the scene call TNG.
They were a nice crowd; polite, welcoming, forthcoming. It wasn't so much that they were cliquish, as that they knew they had more in common with each other than with us, the older ones. They had all the attraction and strength of youth, and years of possibilities ahead of them, unencumbered by the baggage of time.
In many ways, I envied them. Not so much their youth, although that was part of it. I envied them because they had a community to join, a network of people willing to welcome them with open arms, and methods to tap into knowledge so secretive and clandestine before.
They will never know what it was like before the internet, when information was shared in person, face to face, in dark corners and in hushed tones. They will never know what it's like to be afraid of kink, to feel isolated and alone for liking what you like and being who you are. They are entering a world where this space for them had already been established: buttressed, illuminated, and adorned with welcome signs. They make themselves at home in a small corner of The Scene world, and claim it as their own, but they will never know what it was like for those first pioneers, who faced cultural backlash and ostracism (and many times worse) to pave the way.
I envy them because they do not have to be afraid to admit who and what they are. They are free to label themselves, without judgement or slight. They are confident in their wants, needs, and ideals. Their kink does not empower them, but their knowledge does; knowledge they can ingrain by learning from our mistakes.
Of course, in the end, it will be the mistakes they make themselves which will teach them the most, and have the largest impact on their future decisions. But their potential shines bright, and in my opinion, uplifts us all.
Well this post turned preachy. I didn't mean it to. Next post will be something funnier, I promise.