Snowy Sunday Night Thoughts

As I sit at my computer, I can see soft flakes of snow falling gently by the streetlamp. So pretty. It's been a hell of a winter in my neck of the woods. Snow storm after snow storm...but thank the God(dess), we've not lost power (knock on nearest wood).

So a few things have been going on with me since I last wrote.

First, a pair of boots. Here's the before:

I love working on military boots. And the stories that go with them. "The scuffs on the toes," my customer said, "are the results of hundreds of push ups." LOL!

They are certainly not the worst pair I've ever worked on, but they quite dull and definitely needed some love.

After cleaning, I dyed them with Fiebings leather dye, then added a few coats of black Chelsea leather food:

Not the best photo...dang camera phones. But trust me, they felt a lot better with some conditioning.

During the past few weeks, I've struggled with a lot of self-doubt. Why am I on this journey, anyway? Why did I find bootblacking so late in life? Our society is so youth-obsessed...as if once you pass age 35, it's all downhill. Maybe physically, but does it have to be in everything else? 

Here's the boots after a couple coats of black Meltonian shoe cream:

So how busy am I these days? Currently I'm a resident bootback at a monthly party. And I just did a party last night, a charity event in Allentown. In March I'm going to Southern Sole Bootblack Weekend, in Augusta Georgia. Very excited about this. 

After four coats of black Angelus shoe polish, a shine is starting to show:

I ended up with a several layers of polish, probably 10 or 12 on the toe areas. I used a few layers of Angelus blue, as well. I like how the blue reflects in the light. 

Finished boots:

I have several pairs of boots waiting for me to work on...and I won something very cool at the party I worked at last night, which I'll show on my next post (after I've finished working on it). 

Boot-Blackness?

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works...

-- Matthew 5:16

Over the past months I've been working with my very patient mentors, trying to learn my craft the best that I can. My basement is half full of old leather that I've been experimenting on, and I take every chance I can to practice.

But there are other aspects that I’m grappling with that don’t involve anything to do with boots.

I am trying to understand the history of bootblacking in my home town of Philadelphia. And I don’t mean history as in dusty old books about ragged children blacking boots on Victorian era street corners.

My questions are:

• Why do so few people know we exist?
• Why was it impossible for me to find a mentor within a 2-hour drive?
• Why are bootblacks an afterthought at Leather events, if we are invited at all?
• What is the origin of the myth that submissives/slaves/bottoms are the only people who can be bootblacks? How do we change that belief?

I want to make it very clear that my above questions are NOT complaints against the community or my teachers. I have received a tremendous amount of support and encouragement since I started my training, and words cannot express my gratitude.

But the fact is, it has taken me a lot of persistence to get where I am right now, and I would like to make it easier for the next generation of bootblacks to participate.

I’m sure there is a lot of background that I am missing. If you want to write to me here or privately (anything said will be kept confidential), and shed some light on things, please feel free.

I love serving my community as a bootblack. I know there are others out there who feel the same way but are struggling just as I have.

We have a talent that can help others in so many ways. We need to be free to share it.

I really think it is time for us to come out of the darkness.

Civil Disobedience

Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly, and most underrated agent of human change.-- Bob Kerrey, former Governor of Nebraska

It’s not often that I wake up in the morning and within 5 minutes, be surprised about something. But today was one of those days.

I checked my phone for emails that came in overnight, and I had a message on Facebook from this young man I met last week at Philadelphia Leather Pride Night.

Since I’ve grown into the world of social media, I’ve had to get used to the fact that people act...differently. The hardest thing for me to get used to: people who don’t answer emails/messages.

In the corporate world, it is extremely bad form to not answer a business-related email within a day or two at most. If you are going on vacation, therefore, you had better put on an “out of office” reply because otherwise you are going to have some very annoyed clients/colleagues, which will lead to loss of trust (at best) and business (at worst).

Social media outlets are not, for the most part, beholden to corporate morés. On places like Facebook and Fetlife, I’ve had to get used to people who don’t answer their messages. And I do understand that there are lots of reasons people don’t or won’t or can't answer their messages: sometimes people have profiles that they don’t follow, or they quit Fetlife/Facebook but didn’t delete their accounts, or they are otherwise indisposed for some reason.

I’ve even had to get used to the old “no-reply-even-though-I-can-see-you’ve-been-online-for-days” routine. ;-)

[NOTE: If you’re reading this and one of the “guilty” ones who haven’t answered a message I sent you…please don’t worry about it. You have your own reasons I’m sure, I don’t hold grudges, and it’s not going to cause my world to collapse.]

When I started learning about bootblacking, I reached out to a lot of people, all over the country and the world. I got a list of names to start with, which grew. I sent many polite emails, and most of them were answered and led to a conversation and friend request. But there were a lot of bootblacks who didn't respond. Some of them title winners (which doesn't mean you’re perfect by any means but…perhaps my expectations are a little higher for you?) In any case, I know it’s part of the territory. You will never hit the target if you don’t throw any darts.

So back to the young man I met at PLPN.

His name is Oil Tan Sam, International Mr. Bootblack 2013, who was working at one of the bootblack stands. I asked permission to observe him work, which he gave. We talked, I asked a lot of questions and got answers, he showed me some products I hadn't seen before, he quizzed me. It was an amazing couple of hours.

After PLPN I found Sam on Facebook, sent a friend request, wrote him a message reminding him who I was and expressing my gratitude.

That, I figured, would be the end of it. He is a very busy guy and traveling all over the country; we only met once and probably won’t meet again. There is no reason for him to write back.

And I’ll be damned – this morning when I checked my messages, he had not only accepted my friend request, he wrote me a nice note in return.

Sometimes, people do surprise me, in wonderful ways. Just that one act of kindness made my whole day. And reminded me that in this brave new world where kindness and courtesy is often hard to find, it doesn't mean that I can't strive to be kind and courteous -- I should think of it as my own form of civil disobedience. ;-)

It’s the small things, ya know?

Where Have I Been??

In a word: busy.

Busy with life, the family, the teenager, and that other thing...what was it? Oh, bootblacking!

Much has happened during the past several months and I am moving ahead in my training. I couldn't be happier! 

Here's some work I've been doing. The below photos are riding boots that had been...rather well used, shall we say. 

Icky muddy boots here:

Happy clean and shiny boots now!

And next, a pair of combat boots a friend gave me, that she picked up at a yard sale. I decided to do a little experimenting. Here's the before:

Using leather paint from Angelus and a little creativity, voila:

In June, I attended a Bootblack Breakout at Grove Lane Studios, in Frederick, Maryland. Here's me during a little rough bootblacking scene. Oofa:

In other news, I served as a bootblack at The Floating World in August, and have done a few other gigs as well. 

Finally -- drumroll please -- last month I was inducted as a full member of the Bootblack Brigade!!

What I've Been Up to Lately

As I may have mentioned earlier, I work in the publishing field, have done so for the past 20+ years.

I am now working independently, which has many perks (I make my own hours) and not-so-perks (wondering when the paycheck will arrive).

In the publishing world, the months of April through July can be...shall we say...stressful.

Think of an accountant during tax season. They tend to walk around with their eyes glazed over, numbers flying around in their heads, not sure how much sleep they got the night before.

I, too, am a walking zombie these days. Crushing deadlines, authors who can't follow simple instructions, the sinking feeling that you're not going to make it.

These days I feel like an old terrycloth rag that's seen just a few too many shoes without being washed.

Despite this, I am still working on my bootblack training.

Earlier this month, I attended a Bootblack Breakout at Grove Lane Studios in Maryland. Just a handful of bootblacks and mentors showing us the ropes. Or laces. :-)

Then last weekend I went to the NDD/s Boot Camp VI in Darlington, Maryland, for a leather care class with the amazing Amelia Chan.

Next week I'm doing a private bootblacking session with an old and dear friend. Should be fun. And hopefully I will get some pictures.

Meanwhile, I have an essay to write for an online course, which I will talk about in future.

I will end this by saying that during the past month, I have become ever more certain that this is the direction I want to go in. And I am grateful to have some clarity in a world that often seems so confusing and vague.

More of My Thrilling Story!

So there I was, newly christened Wicked Jade.

The term "wicked jade" doesn't have anything to do with a gemstone -- it's a Victorian derogatory phrase used to describe a woman of loose morals. I love words, turns of phrases, especially things you don't hear every day.

I started out as a submissive to my Dominant husband.

Tried out switching with other people, didn't like it. Felt like trying to write with my left hand.

Also starting out: you want to do everything. Right. Fucking. Now.

It's a dangerous place to be, if you don't have someone watching over you. I think the role of  "Protector" is one of the most underused roles in bdsm culture. It's so important to have someone you can trust watching over you, so you don't get in over your head. There are a lot of sharks swimming out there and they can't wait to get a bite our of a newbie.

Anyway...

I spent the first few years of my kink life trying to experience everything I could. I've bottomed for wax play, needles, flogging, spanking, paddling, violet wand. The only thing I've never done is a full suspension, mainly because the thought of me naked on ropes digging into my generous flesh whilst people are looking at me is kind of scary.

Over time, though, I found a certain place of comfort in my kink world, and once again, I started wondering "is this all there is."

I have this need to be useful. Ever watch Thomas the Tank Engine with some kids in your life? That's the goal in every train car's life: to be really useful. I want to be useful too. I am not pretty, not skinny, not exceptionally clever or smart, I don't really have any skills, except that I really like to serve. I really like to help people.

And thus we will segue into my next post, which will be about me, my religious faith (or what it's morphed into), and my need to serve.

In other news: date coming up in May to hang out with bootblacks and eat cake. Every step gets me a little closer. :-)

I Interrupt My Story...

...to tell you that I've been invited to serve as a bootblack at the NDDs Bootcamp in Maryland this May. In, like, 6 weeks! I will be working with the amazing Amelia-Chan.

I'm all happy and scared at the same time.

I have to log out now to go jump around my room now, will try not to scare the dogs.

SQUEEEEE!