Late Summer Report, and a New Look!

Time to change things up! This fall I'm making some changes. New hairstyle in the works. Possibly a tattoo if I can swing the cash. And a re-fresh for my blog.

So what's been going on?

In August I had the honor of coordinating the Bootblacks at Chesapeake Leather and Pride, at the Baltimore Playhouse. Darn it was hot. But we had a good time.

Then a week later, I served on the Bootblack team at the Master/slave Conference, in Rockville Maryland. Yay for air conditioning!

Here I am serving as a footrest for a shiny pair of boots. Oh this was fun:

Nice tread marks on my knees here, from another customer:

A pair of oil tan work boots, before:

And after:

I've been thinking a lot about this blog, and why I don't keep it up more, since I do love to write. 

I think because I do a lot more things with my life than bootblacking. 

This blog is titled "A Bootblack's Journey" and I think I need to incorporate more steps in my journey than just the ones with boots on.

So...as they say, "to be continued." 

Hey I Received a Bootblack Title; Now What Do I Do?

I know I haven't posted much recently, mostly because of work and other things and, thank God, lots of busy bootblacking.

In June I was honored to receive the title of Philadelphia Bootblack 2015 and I'm still wondering what exactly to say about it. I'm happy, of course. I have a black and blue leather sash that I wear to Leather events. I was in the Philadelphia Pride parade, so hot I thought I was going to pass out right off the truck into the crowd. Wondering if even a handful of people looking at me even know what a Bootblack is.

At this point I'm still trying to figure out exactly what I'm supposed to do with this title.

I've gotten some good advice from other title winners. "Don't burn yourself out," they say. "Do what you can." While others caution on overspending. "I've known title winners who have gone bankrupt during their title year," another friend tells me. Yikes.

As an introvert type, I don't care for the spotlight. I like working in the dark, my hands on leather, caring for the person in my chair. So I'm just not sure what I should be doing.

Like caring for leather in a dark, hazy leather bar, I am feeling my way along.

• I try to get to as many places as I can reasonably afford. 

• If I am asked to do a demonstration, I am happy to do that. 

• I will work charity events, as many as I am able to do.

• If you ask me, "So what IS a Bootblack, anyway?" I will tell you as much as you want to know.

That's all I have to say right now...here is an obligatory pic from my big day...

Thoughts on the Amtrak Disaster, and Stories Ended Too Soon

On Tuesday night, the unthinkable happened: an Amtrak train on its way to New York rounded a curve going at over 100 miles an hour, and derailed. Over 240 injured, eight dead.

It's been difficult to focus on my work today. I've been on that train to New York many times in the past. 

And now the stories are beginning to surface: the dead, who they were in life, the good that they did for the world. It is all the more devastating because I am sure this disaster could have been prevented. 

Every human being has their own story. At work every day I look out my window, and as people pass by, I wonder what their story is. I will probably never know. And on Tuesday night, the story ended for eight people.

If there is any good that can come out of this, it is the acts of heroism displayed by not only the emergency personnel, but the neighbors, who were also among the first to rush to the scene and offer aid. These are wonderful stories to hear.

One of the things that attracted me to bootblacking was the emphasis on Leather history, on stories. Bootblacks are often called the bartenders of the Leather world, because we listen to your stories while you sit in our chairs.

In my very few years of public bootblacking, I have heard so many great stories. Confessions, even. I treasure every story I am given. Because it really is a gift, when someone opens up to you in that way.

Simplifying

Bootblacking has taught me a lot. Some practical things, some just related to personal growth.

On top of the list would be that I have a greater appreciation for the things I have. Owning good quality boots, shoes, leather...and taking care of them. Ever notice at shoe stores, the shoe care shelf is in the back corner, if they even have one? Most shoes today are synthetic and don't need much care, but plenty of leather gets sold too. They just don't want you to take care of it. A few scuffs? Throw 'em away and buy new! 

Maybe it's because I'm getting older, but lately I've felt a real need to simplify my life. Not just the physical stuff around me, but my life choices, as well.

It's as if the first 50 years of my life I've been in brownian motion, snowflakes in a snow globe after it's been shaken, and the flakes are starting to settle.

This morning I skipped my gym workout yet again, because of my work schedule. And I realized my work schedule is never going to settle down enough for me to fit in the drive to and from the gym, plus the workout. Wouldn't it be better, I started thinking, to simplify my routine so I can save that $60 a month? Buy a set of weights and get my cardio through walking rather than a treadmill? 

I've also started thinking about my life goals. What do I really want to do with my life? 

I want to write, and publish, continue my freelance work, take care of my family, read a lot, be fit and healthy, and continue my bootblacking work wherever I can. 

Just like those rocket boosters that fly off the spaceship after it reaches space...anything that does not further my goals must be jettisoned from my life.

Happy Busy Stuff! And a Star Trek Reference.

Soooo...I had a bootblacking gig yesterday! 

This was a new place for me, the Rainbow Room in Atlantic City, so I wasn't sure what to expect. 

Would my stand fit? As it turned out, no, the space was too small, but that's good too -- the less stress on my back, the better.

Would I know anyone there besides the host? Yes! Some friendly faces and met new ones. 

Would I be busy? No, I wasn't -- but I'm not complaining.

Let me stop here and talk about "complaining."

Of course every Bootblack's preference is to be busy during their shift. More tips, more leather love, and the time flies. But we've all had those moments, hours, when things are slow. Or, in yesterday's case, a new event at a new venue, beautiful spring day -- there's bound to be a lower turnout.

I worked on two pairs of boots and I was thrilled to pieces to work on them.

The first pair: gorgeous, buttery soft oil tan engineer boots. A sexy guy wearing 'em, too. I spent lots of time making sure that Huberd's was worked in. :-)

The second pair: high-shine Corcorans, done whilst the customer was enjoying a cigar and a glass of Scotch. He was so happy and relaxed. Again, I spent lots of time to get the best shine I could.

Some Bootblacks might complain, "Oh, two pairs all night, what a waste of my time." 

I guess it's the glass half-full or half-empty thing. I prefer to see it half-full. I'm just grateful to get the work that I do. 

Some Bootblacks get to do what they love once a week or more. I am lucky if I get once a month. So I feel like saying to them, "Kwitcherbellyakin', it could be a lot worse."

Another good thing: I spent most of today working on leather projects I've been sitting on. I finally had some time to pre-cut paracord for boot laces. I am getting tired of laces falling apart and then having to cut new cord. So I measured and singed the ends and bundled each pair into its own baggy. Black, purple, yellow, red, blue. 

And I finished those boots I was working on all winter. Here is the before:

And here is the after:

Close up of the nasty toe box, before:

And after:

It's easily seen that I haven't fixed everything. I would say this about maxes my skills in shoe repair. I can glue stuff, I can patch, I can burnish, I know how to use dye. 

A lot of Bootblacks might look at these pictures and say, "You should have done xyz" or whatever, and I love the advice, I really do. 

But I decided long ago, I'm not Super Bootblack.

I don't expect to win, much less run for, a major title. I don't have the time, the personality, the looks, the wardrobe, the marketing savvy, all that stuff you need to win titles.

To borrow Dr. McCoy's words...I'm just a simple country Bootblack.

I do the best that I can, and try to learn new things by observing others. That, with good tools and products, plus the love in my heart, will have to be enough.

Well, I Tried. ;-)

I haven't kept up the daily writing here, but I am glad I at least made the attempt. 

Besides the current boots project I'm working on, I haven't had much to say. I don't have much bootblacking going on, until the end of April.

Here is a recent pic of the boots I'm working on. The repairs have been done (except for the toe caps, those are next) and now they are getting a good soak of Huberd's.

Sunday Thoughts

I have always had a deep spiritual side to me. One of the things I feared when I got into the kink scene was, would I lose that part of me? Even worse, would I care if I did?

It is true that I haven't gone to church in at least a year, although I see the parish priest (Episcopal) in town many more times than that.

I used to be very active in the church but over the years I grew disheartened, wondering what was the point of that hour every Sunday morning in church. The world seemed to be ever sinking into despair. So we (the family) just stopped going.

Bootblacking, however, has changed me in so many ways. I am more confident than I used to be. More lighthearted. Happier. I always have something to look forward to. It has taken hold in my heart and shows no sign of letting go.

Here are some more photos of that project I'm working on. Today I worked on repairing those Irish pennants -- er -- "flags" that I talked about in another post. Below is the before, just on the left side of the boot:

And next is the after. It's not very exciting. In fact I just noticed another flap (grrrr) on the right side there. But I think it looks a little better.

After I get all these flags glued down I will do some more burnishing and then apply some Huberd's. Will that soak in for a few days or a week.

Miscellaneous Stuff

This week I'm working on a new project. Repairing military boots with lots of little flags I need to glue down.

When I started learning bootblacking all those years ago (like, 3) these little flaps were called "Irish pennants". I am told we shouldn't use that phrase anymore because it's an insult to the Irish.

I'm half Irish and I kind of like the phrase, but maybe that's my German side laughing at the Irish side.

So now I will use the boring phrase "flags" to indicate those little hanging bits of leather that I will carefully tack down using a toothpick and superglue.

Pictures to follow when they're done.

In other news, I have lots going on in the spring -- I will be bootblacking in April, May, June, and then not til August. It is good to have events on my calendar that I can look forward to. 

I Know You Are, But What Am I?

Warning: I might possibly say something really dumb and/or offensive in this post. Please accept my apologies in advance and feel free to correct me if I've said something off base...just be nice. I'm trying to learn here.

One of the things that attracted me to the kink/fetish/Leather life was the possibility that I could truly be me and not have to apologize for it.

But I have found over time, just like most things, it's complicated.

Because humans seem to have an inherent need to label each other, as if we are Campbell's soup cans.

Among female Bootblacks, I have observed there seem to be two categories: "femme" and "butch."

When I think of a femme Bootblack, I think of corsets, tutus, glitter, make-up and high heels, dresses perhaps. They tend to be better at color mixing and more often seen at kink/fetish events.

[I have even heard the term "high femme," though I'm not sure how that is defined. I've never heard of "high butch" but I guess that's perhaps redundant. Either you are or you aren't.]

Describing a butch Bootblack, I think of heavy leather, cropped hair, no makeup, and military/engineer/motorcycle boots. They tend to be old school, trained under the dim light and smoky haze of a Leather bar.

So, as I consider myself, I wonder what category I belong in.

And even more curious is -- why do I even care?

Although I identify as female, I am not terribly much into makeup. I do wear it sometimes but more often than not I'd rather go without. As far as clothing, when I bootblack I'm happiest in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Corsets are nice but I don't like being restricted when I work. I detest anything involving glitter. I dislike "chick" movies. I keep my nails short and will polish them occasionally. I keep my hair long. I prefer male partners for sex but women have wonderful attributes as well and in fact I prefer them as play partners these days. 

I've also received training at weekend fetish events AND dark hazy Leather bars.

So maybe I'm a "low femme." Yuck, I don't like that.

A label, I need a label! 

So, if I'm at social event with butch Bootblacks on one side, and femmes on the other, which group am I supposed to hang with? Or would I be ignored by both?

Of course I will be told "just be yourself, and the people who matter won't mind"..."to thine own self be true"...etc etc. And yes, I try to follow these precepts in my mind. 

I am honored to have friends who identify as femmes and as butches. They are my friends because they have been able to look past my packaging and get to know the person inside. However, this is hard to do at a big event that might last a weekend.

I wonder if femmes naturally gravitate to other femmes, and vice versa? There's nothing wrong with that of course. It is nice to have someone to gush over about the latest OPI nail polish line.

I'm just wondering if there are other female-identified people out there, like me, sort of in the middle? And does it bother you that you don't have your own label? 

Time for Spring Cleaning!

If you wear leather, you probably already know that road salt and leather don't mix.

And that if you have road salt on your leather, especially your boots, it needs to be removed as soon as possible. Otherwise it can dry out the leather, and if left too long, will cause permanent damage.

But we have so many things to do -- taking care of your leather seems like one more hassle when you're ready to dig the flip flops out of the closet. 

So I suggest you see your friendly Bootblack and get your gear cleaned up. Or, if you don't have a Bootblack nearby, you can do it yourself. 

My method is to 1) clean the leather with glycerin soap and water. 2.) Dry. 3.) Condition. 

Some advocate using a vinegar and water mix to get the salt off. I would only do that if the soap didn't work. But I'm no expert...use your brain and the Google if you don't want to take my word on it. 

This week I had the honor to work on some salt-stained leather for a dear friend. First, a pair of gloves that she thought might be goners:

And the after picture:

Glycerin soap and water, wipe and let dry, then condition with Huberd's. Extra on the fingertips. There are other methods, this one is mine.

Also a pair of high-shine Harley Davidson motorcycle boots. 

The before:

They don't look too bad, actually. Because they were well taken care of to start with. My client had worn them to shovel snow, and you can see some salt stains on the right boot (ie, the one closest to the paper towels). 

The happy ending:

All shiny and nice, ready to reflect that brilliant spring sun!

New Bootblacking Blog!

A big welcome addition to my "Blogs Way Cooler Than Mine" list belongs to Cherielle, Southwest Community Bootblack 2015. Look on the right hand side of the page and hers is right on top.

Tonight: I'm making a housecall to work on some salt-caked gloves and boots. Hopefully I will take some before and after pictures.

Congratulations to My Mentor, Cherielle Rice, Southwest Community Bootblack 2015

I was thrilled to get the news that my Bootblack teacher and mentor, Cherielle Rice, just won Southwest Community Bootblack 2015.

She has gone through a lot since I've known her, and although I don't know the other contestants, I think she certainly deserves the award.

This is a quote from her Facebook page that tells a little something about who she is:

Never apologize for being PROUD of who you are. Family is not always genetics. Your family are those who choose to accept, love, and support you in life. Honor them and yourself by doing your very best, learning from your mistakes, and reaching out to those in need. Be the voice for those who may not have found theirs yet...this is my Leather Code of Ethics.

Fishbowl Blues

As I scan the Facebook postings every morning, and IMsL approaches, I can't help but feel my loneliness more acutely.

I see the photos, the cute giggly comments, the Leatherwomen all in their finest, and I'd love to be closer to that, but my nose keeps bumping against this annoying fishbowl that I'm looking out of.

It's not that I'm missing out on the party so much. 

I keep hearing about "the family", and knowing that I will likely never be a part of that -- yeah, it stings.

If anyone reads this blog, I suppose it sounds like whining, but as I said in an earlier post -- my journey, my whining.

I can't go to every Leather event. For many reasons, most of them personal. I have a family and a job and must prioritize my travel to local bootblacking events. At the same time, I don't begrudge people who ARE able to travel. I think it's great, I really do.

But I am lonely. There, I said it.

I have no one to talk to, to really open up to, about what I feel about bootblacking: my joys, my frustrations, my anxieties. All I have is this blog. But even here I am not free to be really open with my thoughts. Because frankly, some of my thoughts are probably wrong or skewed and I have no way of countering them without another human being listening. 

I get to serve as a Bootblack maybe once a month if I'm lucky. I bring my kit, I set up, I wait for customers, and I serve them with every bit of passion and knowledge that I have. Afterward I thank the person running the event for inviting me, and go home. 

There is just something about belonging to a group of people who do what you do, and we can talk about it and nod our heads and say "yeah, this happened to me, and here's what I did..." And then you learn something and you have grown a bit.

Isolation is not a healthy thing. But there is not much I can do about it, except acknowledge it, do my work the best that I can, and trust that the Universe will provide in its own time.

My Achy Breaky Tooth

I am always grateful for my excellent health (knock on wood), but in the dental department, I was not in the best gene pool.

Growing up, I knew every dentist appointment would invariably mean drilling and filling. Despite being a Crest kid. Remember chewing on those funky red pills to see where you missed brushing? Ewww. 

I never took novocaine, because I thought I was Super Girl or something. Or just afraid of needles.

Then when I hit 18, I stopped having cavities and went on my merry way. Until about my mid-40s, when the fillings started falling out and molars began to wear down.

Most recently, my dentist discovered that one of my molars had cracked. A root canal was done, but it didn't work, as I was still having pain. So the tooth is coming out, and in its place will be an implant. 

The first surgery is to remove the tooth, and pack the space with cow bone so the bone can regrow and form a new base for the implant. Then in a few months I will have the implant put in, and then a few months after that, a crown will be fitted for it.

So I just took my last mega-dose of ibuprofen before my surgery tomorrow, and hopefully that will be my first step toward being pain-free. 

If You Have Never Been to a Leather Fundraiser, You Are Missing Out

Last night I had the honor to serve as one of the bootblacks at a fundraiser at a nightclub in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

I love working at fundraisers. 

The bar was crowded and full of energy. Smoking was legal here, so we have the dark plus the smoke plus the hot bodies and thumping music...it is the perfect atmosphere to bootblack.

There is also entertainment, of the burlesque/drag queen type. I never get to see the acts because I'm usually bent over a pair of boots but it's fun to listen to the hoots and hollers.

My favorite part of these events: the auctions. Usually there are two: a silent auction, where you write down a bid on a piece of paper, and then others will come by and put down their bids, etc. And then there is the live auction, and we all know what that is.

Sometimes you can get some great stuff at these auctions for bargain prices. The pool table was covered with leather boots, jackets and toys, for incredibly low prices. 

And then there are things that you don't see anywhere else. Like this neato black stool with a glow-in-the-dark bootprint:

Hand-made and painted, with a real boot used to make the print. I got this for $15.

These events really put the "fun" into fundraising. :-)

Defining Myself

To be thrilled at the opportunity to provide useful service, aroused by a pleasant nod, and satisfied by the proverbial job well done, is the mark of a slave.-- Laura Antoniou, The Marketplace

The above quote really speaks to me, and not because I consider myself a slave. In fact, people who identify as slaves and do their best to live by however they define "slave", have my full respectful admiration.

As a Bootblack, however, every single word in that statement applies to me and how I feel about my service.

I got a lot of helpful responses, both on- and offline, to my most recent post. And I am so grateful to everyone who took their time and energy to help me work these issues out.

I think if there's anyone out there who are fledgling Title-holders, with sashes sparkling in your eyes, I suggest you seek out those in the community who know what they're talking about, and get whatever wisdom you can.

This will be my last post about Titles, but I did want to add one clarification: I have never once been approached to run for any bootblacking title.  I'd be lying if I said that didn't hurt, especially when I hear other folks humblebragging about "all these people telling me to run!" 

But that is when I must look in the mirror, and tell myself to quit whining and just keep shining. Because it's not about me.

Making a Difference in the Leather World - Is It Possible Without a Title?

I have been trying to figure out this whole "Title" thing and what it should mean to me. 

Up to now I haven't commented on the IMsL logo controversy. Personally it was very upsetting to see that an image of a gun and a purple dildo was chosen to represent Leather women. I applaud the decision to pull the logo -- though I'm still left wondering how the design managed to be chosen in the first place.

In any case, as a Bootblack, I am eligible to run for titles, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about that.

I think running for a title is, first of all, a personal choice. What's good for you might not be good for me. Running for a title is a commitment...some titles are easier to pursue than others. 

I have had a few title winners tell me not to pursue a title. "Because then it just becomes a job," they say. That's easy to tell someone once you've got the title, isn't it? 

I heard of one Bootblack contest in which the contestants had to wear three different leather outfits during the events. I am not sure what that has to do with our craft. And the rule would definitely exclude me, as I can't afford that much leather. 

There are questions I need to answer honestly to myself.

• What is my personal mission in the Leather community?
• Do I really need a title in order to carry out that mission?
• Is it even possible for me to make a difference without a title?

The final bullet point in that list is one I'm going to need some outside help on.

Notes From the Desert

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who was raised Catholic and loved God with all her heart, with all her mind, and with all her soul.

Then, as often happens to young girls, she grew up. And realized that although the Church had some good things to say, there was a lot of bad things too, especially about girls and their role in the world.

When the girl realized this, her heart was sad but she knew she had to part ways. 

Soon the girl got married and discovered the Episcopal church, and here she felt she had found a home: the liturgy was similar, but the hierarchy was different, and there was more wriggle room to be a flawed human being.

And for many years, the girl was happy. With her life, her career, her husband, her church. She taught Sunday school and Vacation Bible School, volunteered whenever she could, supported the church financially.

But over time, what she thought was a strong foundation in her character, formed by her love of God, began to crumble. 

The greed of the corporate world. The never-ending darkness that seemed to wash a sepia-gray film of misery over the world: genocide, famine, extremism/terrorism, racism, homophobia, voter apathy.

This coupled with the rise of the so-called "Moral Majority" in the 1980s, followed by the Christian Rightwing extremists, with their message of guns, God and glory, left the girl embarrassed to call herself a Christian.

She felt lost and alone. As though she had wasted so much of her spiritual efforts when nothing could be done anyway. The Church no longer seemed to matter.

She left the Church, and started on her own personal journey. In the Bible there are stories of holy men who embarked alone into the wilderness. When they returned, they were changed, they were newly inspired to do their work.

In many ways, I think I am still on my personal desert journey, yearning to come home, but not quite ready yet. It is not desolate, though. There is life here, as there is life even in the harshest places on earth. 

Meditations on Art

Yesterday I had the honor of facilitating a bootblacking skillshare with a group of really cool ladies.

Once in a while I am asked to come to a munch or gathering and "teach a class" but I really dislike that phrase. 

I don't consider myself a very good teacher, in the way that we think of a teacher: standing up in front a dozen or so people and sending forth knowledge, in an organized fashion, done in an entertaining style.

There's really only one way I can "teach", and that's by sharing what I know: so I will plop a pair of boots in front of you and guide you along in how I've been taught to do it. 

And that's what we did: everyone had a chance to get their hands dirty and everyone was able to see that what Bootblacks do is not magic; it's just technique, and anyone can learn it.

But there is so very much more, and I can't communicate that through words. It must be done through actions. Through letting you experience the art by actually doing it.

Bootblacking is simple. Clean the leather. Then either condition or polish. 

Simple, but not easy. Because there are decisions you have to make depending on what type of leather you're working on. That's why I believe bootblacking is an art. An art is something that is done with heart. Even the word heart includes art.

Anyone can paint a picture of sunflowers. But only the heart of a Van Gogh could elevate sunflowers to something wonderful.

What's in the heart of a Bootblack? What elevates a simple shoe shine that you get at the airport, to something so sublime and intimate as the experience you get with a good Bootblack? 

Just things I'm thinking about tonight.

Confession of Sin, and Hope for the Future

I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.
-- Augusten Burroughs

Yes I missed a day. I'm sure you were sitting there, with nothing else to do, wondering where my post for the day went. Right? I didn't think so.

Anyway, yesterday was frikkin busy. But it was all boring stuff so no need to detail all of that.

I do, however, want to take a brief moment to make a disclaimer about myself.

I read somewhere that Lent is a call to weep for what we could have been and are not.

I talk a good lot of talk about caring for others and being compassionate and forgiving but the reality is, I very often fall short of what I consider good behavior in myself.

Or, in other words, I have had my moments.

I have a very bad Inner Snark that feeds on a constant diet of Schadenfreude, which is an emotion that branches off of envy. I have to fight this all the time.

Because my biggest personal sin is comparing myself to others, and finding myself lacking.

The reality is this: there will always be someone smarter than me, and funnier, prettier, skinnier, sexier, and all the trappings that go with What Society Says We Should Be Good At And/Or Look Like. There will always be someone who will achieve more, who writes more, who dances more, who gets more good things, who has more money.

Once I can truly accept that, I will be free to be something that no one else can possibly be: just me. I am me and I am the only one who can be me.

So instead of worrying about everyone else who's better than me at most things, I should really concentrate on being the best version of myself.

Because of these character flaws I have said and done a lot of things that I'm not proud of. I have learned through painful lessons that you can't take back what comes out of your mouth or when you hit that Enter key. All I can do is apologize but then, still, the scars remain.

I like to think that I'm a good person, overall. But in many ways I'm a huge fuck up. In the past and probably in the future too.

Every day I'm given, though, is a new chance to make things better. I can weep, and begin again.

A Bit of Purging

Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance. 

-- Will Durant

I will start this second post of Lent by promising that not everything I write will be about bootblacking. As any Bootblack will tell you, under all the polish and Huberd's stains, we are people too, with our own individual needs and festishes and, yes, even everyday hobbies that don't involve leather!

But not today. LOL.

I am going to share something that's been simmering in my gut for a long time. I don't like to start on a negative note but it's not so much negative as a "healthy purging" I hope.

A few years ago I was attending a fetish event and I sat in on a class about bootblacking as a service. 

The class began with a brief "101" lesson, which I wished had been spelled out in the course description, but okay, whatever.

"The first thing I always tell my classes," the instructor said, "is that everything you read about bootblacking on Fetlife is bullshit."

I was, like, WHAT?

I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

Then, very quietly, I got up and walked out of the class.

YES, a definite portion of what's on Fetlife about ANY SUBJECT is, indeed, bullshit. That I can agree with.

However.

There are lots of good Bootblacks on Fetlife who DO know what they're talking about, who take time out to help others by offering advice and information, which they have attained through hard work, knowledge and experience. 

So to make a blanket statement like that? There's the bullshit.

I was just so angry. 

It is unique among humans that we have evolved to use our brains to think and make our own decisions. We learn, we apply what we've learned the best we can, and we hope we do the right thing. If not we have still learned something new.

I would rather learn from someone who knows they don't have all the answers (but hopefully has a few more than I do).

So as of this post, I am letting this anger go. It's over now. Perhaps this person was having a bad day during that class. I don't know what battles this person was fighting at the time. 

Let the journey continue.

Ash Wednesday Thoughts; or, What Shoe Polish Would Jesus Use?

I've had a lot of thoughts about bootblacking lately but haven't taken the time to write them down. Sometimes it's because I'm just scared. I don't want to say anything to offend anyone. It's gotten to the point where my personal self-censorship has gotten so bad I I've toyed with the idea of killing off this blog because of it.

But I won't kill off my blog because this is my journey and I think I have at least the right to travel it in my particular way. It is not anyone else's journey. These are my experiences I'm writing about, and the thoughts that go with them. 

Some of my thoughts, hell maybe most of them, are going to be wrong. I'm not afraid to admit that. 

Today on the Christian calendar it is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Lent is a season of preparation for Easter, through prayer, penance, repentance of sins, atonement and self-denial.

The way I was raised, you were supposed to "give something up" during Lent. But as I've matured, I have tried to "take things on." It's one thing to give up your chocolate habit; another to make yourself a better person.

All of this might sound funny coming from a Bootblack. So much of what we do is kinky and naughty. We have to think about things like how to clean cum off a boot or how to get that conditioner really worked into those leather pants. These are wonderful problems to have. <<weg>>

But to me, in my personal journey, being a Bootblack is first about love.

Recently there was a Facebook post about shoe polish preferences. Of course every Bootblack had to chime in, including myself. But one comment really stood out. 

This gentleman is not only a title winner but also friendly, generous with his knowledge, humble and soft-spoken yet so full of wisdom. Anytime he posts anything, I take notice.

His favorite polish? "Whatever's in my kit," he said. 

The point being, it's not about the brand. It's about the person using it. 

What's in your kit is not so important as what's in your heart.

During this season of Lent I am going to try to post something in my blog every day. 

It will be a bit of a sacrifice because I have to make the time to do it. But that's the point, isn't it?

So, I hope you will walk with me for the next several weeks. If you disagree with something I say, I will listen and learn with respect that is due to every human being. I just ask for the same treatment in return.

And what shoe polish would Jesus use?

That's a no-brainer.

ANGEL-us, of course. 

Ba-dum-tss!