Feelings

Nothing more than…feelings….

Reading through Slack last night, I caught the messages of TheCreators, but before they decided to offer their thanks and ask for our feedback, @larry seemed to be more interested in how our experience at the MSE made us feel. After all, if everything else is smoke and mirrors, perhaps the only real things that happened on whichever night we happened to attend were our feelings.

Since I am relatively new to all of this (never went to Tension, didn’t really check out anything until after I was asked to sign the waiver,) I suppose the things I felt are more important than what I saw or did, as most of us will have seen or done similar things.

So…the waiver–was by far the most intimidating thing I’ve yet signed my name to. Having heard only from my boyfriend and friend about their own experiences, I was left with a sense of anxious dread. After all, I am legally blind, and I was decidedly worried that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be able to do everything that was needed at this whole MSE. But I signed the waiver anyway, told myself I’d get through it, and inwardly bit my nails for a week or two–or maybe up until that night. It’s hard to say, as anxiety was a large part of why I decided to throw caution to the wind anyway and force myself out of my comfort zone.

Then I got to the forums–to a day of going down the rabbit hole. I spent the whole day just trying to wrap my head around the ideas and people that were a part of this experience. I joined the Slack, said a lot of (likely) dumb things, and did my best to learn the acronyms of doom. To say that I felt intimidated is an understatement. But that underlying pinning of anxiety was a part of all of this, too.

There is the old adage that knowledge is power, after all, and I reasoned that the more I knew, the less worried I would be. Strangely, however, once I accepted that I was never going to “get it” all, I was able to let go of that fear and just be in the moment. Whatever I needed to know, I would absorb or I wouldn’t, and come the day of the MSE, whatever I did or didn’t know would either be important or it wouldn’t; but at least I had a starting point, and that was good enough. Besides, …as the letters went out, I reasoned that anything I really needed to know wouldn’t be hidden from me, and as I continued to lurk I picked up little things–impressions and information that I wasn’t sure were important, but I took them in as part of the experience. Either they were important or they weren’t, and I’d figure it out at the MSE.

Part of the fun of learning “all the things” was that I got to share these things with my boyfriend, admittedly in very disjointed fashion, as I had no clue what was important and what wasn’t, and I had to express that to him up front. “Hey, there’s all this crap, and I have no idea what’s relevant and what’s not. You probably have a better idea since you went to Tension…” etc. The funny thing, of course, is that he really didn’t have a lot more information than I did, but he found things that I hadn’t found regarding who was who and so on that I hadn’t seen or read. So, this added to my treasure trove of knowledge, and at least I had a partner in my ignorance to share my anxieties with. This made things better. I might have had my doubts and fears and anxieties, but at least I could share them with him, and he could understand and relate.

It grew to the point where I wasn’t sure who was part of the experience and who wasn’t, but I like to believe that I am a truthful person with myself; and I figured that if I made friends, I made friends, and if I just had my boyfriend, then I just had my boyfriend. I tried reaching out a little, but it wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to be a “drama queen” seeking attention and trying to become “important.” In general that just makes people tend to have visceral reactions to you–both negatively and positively, and I have had my fair share of that crap; so,…I decided I’d just be the watcher in the shadows, learning what I could while observing those around me.

I was looking for signs of the ARG–hoping for phone calls or e-mails, or even just something weird on the website, and when I didn’t find any of those things, I will admit to feeling a little disappointed. But I hadn’t been around long, after all; so, I couldn’t really blame TPTB (the powers that be, for those of you still learning acronyms.) How could they know if I were truly interested in this bag of mixed marbles or if I was just a passerby in the world of LUST? So I reasoned, and so I accepted that, for now, this was probably for the best.

You see, I’m not the sort of person to obsessively check my phone or stress about whether or not I’ve missed something, and I didn’t want to become that person just because of LUST. That seemed counterproductive, and with the holidays I’ve had a lot of stuff to do anyway. So there really wasn’t any need to be disappointed. But if I’m being honest, …it’s still there somewhere, adrift in that miasma of thoughts that I don’t tend to look at too often because it doesn’t have any useful purpose other than making me unhappy.

So listening, watching, being extremely busy with RL, writing little bits of myself into the area that goes under my name, making a lyric friend in @superstar, but worried that if I jumped too far too fast I might scare them off, and introducing myself to @rpearl and @persephone (and not getting much back from either of them,) I waited for the MSE, and I kept my eyes and ears open.

As the date drew nearer, I was more and more excited to be going, as I had the perfect outfit, and we’d ordered the perfect masks, and …it was going to be fun. Sure, …we might have to endure some nudity and risque situations, but that was all boundary pushing, and I’d signed up for that. So no use being upset about it; might as well enjoy it.

Now let me just say that I am not an exhibitionist. I don’t have a good opinion of my own body, and I often tend to be self-conscious and body-image conscious. This often stresses me out, and while I’m working on losing weight, this is a process–a long, slow, difficult process. But I am committed to it, because I want to be “beautiful”. Not that girl that everyone points to when they talk about “fat”. But, for whatever reason, I was feeling really good about myself that Friday night when we went to the MSE. I’d shaved, and washed my hair, and plucked and make-uped, and perfumed–suffice to say, I was the best me I was going to get.

Over the weeks prior, I’d think about what might be expected of me–nudity, being berated, belittled, or whatever else might make me feel truly uncomfortable. Some of it I faced, and some of it I knew I wouldn’t know what I would do about it until I was in the moment; so, I just left it as “This is a possibility,” and moved on. I didn’t look in the spoilers channel, though god knows I wanted to. I didn’t want to spoil the experience, though, and I wanted it to be without knowledge of what I would be entering into. I wanted it to be authentic and genuine from my point of view; so, …I waited.

I was, of course, nervous when I got there. I hadn’t heard of anyone going that would be in my time slot; so, I was somewhat relieved when @unseenpresence and Megan (@MeganMayhem from Slack) turned up. While I didn’t “know” them, I knew of them, and I could at least put a face to a name. You see, I’d been feeling a little …lonely isn’t quite the right word, but maybe something more along the lines of “on the outside looking in”. To be fair, that hasn’t changed, but somehow meeting someone and putting a face to a name was comforting.

Unfortunately, I live out in Orange and a lot of people live near LA, which means that a lot of stuff that goes on is up there. It’s a bit of a drive for us (also, I can’t drive; so,…no wandering out on my own without having to pay someone to drive me;) so, joining people for fun evenings out on the spur of the moment wasn’t something we were going to do. Hence…feeling a little on the outside of all of this, and wishing I lived closer. I am, admittedly, pretty shy, though–at least until I get to know people. But even then, I tend to worry that I’m never anyone’s first choice to have a conversation with (which is okay, really.) I prefer listening, anyway. Most people have far more interesting things to offer to a conversation than I do, and I really do just like learning about people–especially if I feel like we might become friends. Usually, though, when I’m meeting new people, we have something in common, and I wasn’t sure if the kind of people that were drawn to LUST were going to be the kind of people I had -anything- in common with. *laughing grin* I’m still not sure, but …vomiting up my feelings I am; so,…take that as you wish.

I felt good knowing some of the characters, being able to point them out to my boyfriend as the night progressed, but I definitely felt out of my element. I was grateful that Morgan had given me a role to assume. Me, but not me. An elite (which I am so far from it’s laughable) and a spy. I’ve done LARPing in the past; so, …this was a hearkening back to those days. I used to be part of the Camarilla, and I played a Ventrue (because they got to wear the best clothes.) So, I knew how to take charge of a situation if needs be. I knew how to wall myself off from a world of darkness. I’d done it before; so, I did it again. I was a wealthy socialite, invited to some lame-ass party that I was going to because, sadly, I had nothing better to do. It wasn’t that I was interested in the party, but that I was interested in just “being seen.” And maybe something interesting would happen.

I went in there with the idea that nothing was going to shock me, but I would try to bring back something with me for all the people who had been playing this game far longer than I had been. I knew I didn’t know much, but I could, at the very least, try. Morgan had said to keep my eyes and ears open–to remain vigilant. So, of course I wasn’t going to take drugs–though I found it amusing that outside Deacon asked me if I had any. I took charge in the car, because people complaining isn’t the way I view people with actual power behave. They demand that things conform to their desires. And thus, music was changed. I didn’t -have- to be at that party; so, when Mason told me not to waste his time, I found it amusing. Sure…fine…I’d take off clothing, but I’d had the impression I was going to get a chance to tease it out a bit. Sadly, I never did. The art of seduction was nowhere present in the whole night I was there. It was just open sexuality–no teases, no attempts at anything real. And I can’t decide if I’m saddened by that or not. The most real thing in that whole performance was Alexis; her voice and those songs had more passion in them than the people who were there. I would have loved to spend the evening just listening and singing along with her. She has my dream job.

I suppose I’ve got this bad habit of wanting to observe things before I get too involved in them; so, when we were thrust into the Lounge, I wanted to get as far away from the pack as possible. I wanted to watch, catch my breath, …and I guess just…allow myself to become a part of the atmosphere. That wasn’t easy, and there were plenty of people that tried to distract me from that, but I maintained my willful desire and did my best to ignore the props. I looked for the things that didn’t fit–those bits of paper left idly at the tables, and though I was dissuaded from pursuing them in any meaningful fashion, I knew that they had the “meaning” I’d been looking for. Like Alexis, they had a passion all their own. And so, like any good spy, I took one, hid it in my purse, and pretended it didn’t matter.

The rest of the night was an exercise in embarrassment for me–though I will confess that I was extremely attracted to the beautiful black woman that looked like she’d stepped right out of the pages of “Goddesses of the World”. She knew the art of seduction, and perhaps that’s part of what drew me to her. Glances, touches, the subtle flirtation that made her seem more real than the rest of the room.

Being one of those selected to anoint the two “chosen” brought me back to those days when I wanted to believe in magic and the subtle power of druidism or wicca. The whole idea of tantric massage, magic, sex, etc. There was a time when I’d wanted to believe those things, and I expect there are people here who do, but I am not one of them. I’ve seen how these ideas can be used to control people and manipulate them, and …it’s another pleasant illusion as far as I’m concerned. That’s not to say it can’t be a pleasurable illusion, of course….

Still, …I found it hard to feel anything other than what was necessary for the role–fertility, ritual, a believer in these things that my god might be reborn, power… That was the role and illusion that was needed, and so it was the one I adopted.

So, …it was with a slight sense of confusion that I was left alone in the Red Room while others were directed in various ways. Disconcerting was the first part of that–lined up, ensured we were supposed to be there. For a moment, I almost thought we were going to be thrown out–and for a moment, there was a real sense of fear there. I didn’t want my evening to end. I didn’t want to be the sole person left out of the “reason we were there.” Though, to be fair, I’d figured that out after clothes started coming off. Still, …I wanted to see it through.

So, as people were led away, many of them without most of their clothes on, and me still in more or less everything I came in, I had no idea what to do. The girls in the back of the room caught my attention, because the impressions I’d gotten beforehand were that most of them were there against their wills–or at least they’d been manipulated in some way to be there. So, …I chose a path–to help them if I could, knowing that they would want and need to be helped. I forged the bond through ritual–doing as I was asked, playing the clown, and was rewarded with a cry for help only to be forced forward at the end to kneel and endure the ritual of ensuring consummation. It was a truly medieval experience, and I’ll admit to feeling petrified of having to help ensure that one of our friends and Megan were “stimulated” in order to create the right situation for them to copulate. There were subtle pushes against my back, urging me forward which I resisted, assuming (correctly) that before anything further would occur, we would be stopped. The TMC (The Midnight Commission) had said they weren’t going to allow this to occur, after all, and I wasn’t going to be the first person to move forward toward the bed. After all, …I liked to watch, but this idea that there was going to be sex without a condom was laughable; so, I waited and was rewarded with the fake speech that sounded rehearsed, and I gave the fake reply of how well-spoken it all was, and wondered why Noah was still a slave to the System. I also wondered, with some amusement, if he was in love with his own mother. Perhaps it was the whole idea that tonight was some Oedipal end to Horace where Noah took over the company–that it might slowly corrupt that resistance he’d once had even while he believed that he was changing things.

In either case, I didn’t have a lot of time to wrap my head around that until afterward, while I was still trying to decide if there really was a difference between BoS and OSDM. There was the awkward scene in the room leading out as most people sought to find their clothing, and I was relieved to find that the page I had stolen was still in my purse. But I didn’t know the man leading us away from the event; so, I certainly wasn’t going to say much of anything. Others were happy to speak of their experiences as if they’d just been through a show, but I was still the spy, the elite socialite, and I wasn’t going to lose that persona until I was certain “they” wouldn’t see.

I wrestled with the idea of keeping these things to myself, but I knew I wasn’t part of the important people yet, and I knew that coming from me, the information I had wouldn’t be seen as genuine; so, when we reached the parking lot, I told Megan I had a gift for her–delivering unto her that which I had managed to smuggle out–assuming that it wasn’t all part of the plan, of course.

I felt a sense of accomplishment in this, though–that I had set out to infiltrate and gather information. And I had done what I could. I wasn’t sure if Megan were a part of everything–a part of the show, but if she was, then at least the page would get back to the table somehow for others to take or see. And while I wasn’t sure if I identified with the BoS, at the very least, I’d done what had been asked of me by them. And for me, …that could be enough.

In the days following, I listened and I watched, wondering if my experience had been somehow less than others based on things being so different between the descriptions. But as I continued watching and listening, I learned that we all had similar and different experiences, and we all would. Each of us came into the experience with our own perceptions and thoughts about what the night was going to be about, and so, we’d each get a different experience based on those preconceived thoughts and notions. As the tales of various characters came to light, I found myself trying to decide if it mattered whether we were BoS or OSDM and eventually coming to the conclusion that this was just another part of the illusion. The sides didn’t matter.

It was all about the experience–and how it had changed us, even a little, even subtly. And, perhaps, that was the real seduction of the evening, because I knew that I wanted to share this with my friends. That I thought they’d enjoy it.

And while I am still left with a hopeful wonder of “why” for the story–who is behind it all, what are they looking for? I am certain that I will not be leaving any time soon.

Besides, …I still want to know what that page was all about, because even if it’s nothing more than smoke and mirrors, there are elements of truth lying within it.

• This topic was modified 6 years, 11 months ago by Argentrose. Reason: Missing words, extra letters, you get the picture
• This topic was modified 6 years, 11 months ago by Argentrose. Reason: Missing words, extra letters, you get the picture