protocol

Behind the Seams: Vaccine Queen

Kate Sloan

May 16, 2021

A while ago, I read an article about people getting dressed up for their vaccinations. This idea immediately resonated with me: I love dressing up for things and find that it helps imbue events with extra significance for me. The ritual of assembling my femme ensemble helps me feel more put-together, centered, and prepared.

Shortly after reading that article, I wrote a poem about why it would feel emotionally impactful to wear something cute to a vax appointment. I won’t share it here because I’m waiting to hear back about potential publication, but one of the things I wrote in the poem was that I wanted to wear a leopard-print dress to show I was still wild after a year+ of captivity. On the day of my actual first dose, I hovered in front of my closet, trying to decide which dress would be best, and then I remembered that poem as my eyes alit on this leopard-print dress. Of course! It was the natural choice.

I got a lot of compliments on my look as I waited in line outside the clinic. I hadn’t realized, until people started commenting on it, that I’d inadvertently adorned myself with multiple rainbow hearts. The nurse who gave me my shot complimented my pen and pencil tattoo. Overall, a wonderful day.

 

What I’m wearing:

• Leopard-print skater dress – American Apparel, via eBay
• Black KN95 mask layered under a Pride heart mask from Threadless
• Red sparkly heart necklace – Tarina Tarantino
• Rainbow heart prescription sunglasses – Zenni
• Pink leather Cashin Carry tote – Coach (a findom gift from my love)
• Black leather harness boots – Frye

May 27, 2021

My psychiatrist told me recently (as he’s told me many times before) that I should try to go on more walks. “I always tell my patients to do that,” he said, “but recently I took some time off and started going on daily walks myself, and wow, it really makes a difference!” Unfortunately for my lazy ass, he’s right.

My dominant asked me what they could do to incentivize me to take more walks, and after pondering it a bit, I replied that I thought they should put “take a walk” on my to-do list on days when my workload seemed lighter, and provide a small assignment to do on the walk, something specific to photograph. I felt that would give me motivation, momentum, a goal.

It’s been working out well so far. I wore this outfit on a nice springtime walk with the intention of photographing a statue, for example.

 

What I’m wearing:

• Pink ribbed tank top – the Gap
• High-waisted skinny jeans – Madewell
• Pink cowboy boots – Jeffrey Campbell
• Pink leather Cashin Carry tote – Coach
• Turquoise Toy Story-print mask – an Etsy shop
• Hair in pigtails because it’s long enough to do that now!

May 31, 2021

This was my last day at my social media dayjob (which I call a dayjob purely out of habit; at the point that I decided to leave, it was only taking up 3-5 hours a week and bringing in ~7% of my income). In the pandemic age, I find it’s extra difficult to celebrate successes. You can’t invite your friends to go for a pint and clink your glasses together over what you’ve achieved, or take a mini-vacation as a reward for a job well done. So I asked my partner what they thought I should do to commemorate entering the land of the fully self-employed, and they suggested I order a bottled cocktail from Civil Liberties, my favorite bar.

I went online and ordered a double serving of the Call Me Maybe, a yummy drink involving grapefruit juice, fennel, fino sherry, and tequila. Then I decided to walk all the way to the bar – about 45 minutes – because it was a beautiful day. I think this was the first time I’d worn a crop top outdoors in nearly a year. Yay, spring!

 

What I’m wearing:

• Royal blue crop top – Forever 21, I think?
• Black A-line jersey skirt – ASOS
• Black bike shorts (worn underneath to help with chub rub) – American Apparel
• Red socks – the Gap
• Nike Air Zoom Pegasus 37 sneakers in teal – a findom gift from my love
• Pink leather Cashin Carry tote – Coach
• Black KN95 mask

June 2, 2021

Feeling in touch with my femmeness has been challenging this past year. I think that as much as my inner angry feminist often wants to snarl “I don’t dress up FOR YOU!!” there is nonetheless an element of my aesthetic that doesn’t feel worth performing if there’s no audience for it. Gender and style are both concepts that have an inward component as well as an outward component, and that outward one is hard to reckon with during a pandemic.

I put on this sweet floral dress to go buy some limes and mint so I could make a fave summer cocktail, the Southside, when having drinks with my friend/roommate Sarah later that night. We may not have been able to go sit on a pub patio or hang out at a cocktail bar, but I was determined to make our indoor lives feel summery and celebratory nonetheless, dammit.

 

What I’m wearing:

• Black/white/pink floral dress – CowCow
• Black leather Frye harness boots
• Pink leather Cashin Carry tote – Coach
• Black KN95 mask

June 3, 2021

Comfiest “outfit” ever. Sometimes I attempt to make my loungewear ensembles look aesthetically pleasing and intentional (as opposed to the times when I just throw on an oversized T-shirt from some rock concert of yore, pair it with underwear and fuzzy slippers, and call it a day).

I had recently reorganized my T-shirt drawer and resultingly rediscovered a bunch of shirts I forgot I owned, like this black cropped tank top, which is an essential item for when I want to feel summery but also goth.

 

What I’m wearing:

• Black ribbed cropped tank top – Forever 21? H&M? Not sure
• Black modal lounge pants – the Gap
• Tie-dye Bombas ankle socks – a gift from Matt’s mom

Protocol Diaries: Music to My Ears

Kate Sloan
Posing with my baritone ukulele in 2010

I have a classically millennial problem, which is that I keep monetizing all my hobbies, thereby draining a lot of the joy out of them. I’m sure many of you can relate.

Professionalizing what was once a creative diversion isn’t inherently a bad thing – I love writing and am happy almost every day that I get to make a living doing something I enjoy and am good at. I just think it’s a mistake to turn all your hobbies into income sources (keeping in mind that being able to avoid this is, of course, a function of financial privilege and is not an option for everyone). It’s much, much easier to get burned out on your work when you have very few non-work avenues for creativity, playfulness, exploration, and growth.

One way I’ve tried to combat this problem in my life is to create a protocol with my partner that “forces” me to make music more consistently. See, when I was younger, music was my life. I sang in choirs from a young age, studied violin and ukulele in school, took piano lessons, guitar lessons, voice lessons, auditioned for musicals, performed in revues, played shows at coffee shops, busked in parks, opened for local musicians, laid down tracks in recording studios, tickled the ivories at theatre festivals. There was a period of time when I very seriously planned to play music for a living. (You can watch me playing songs dating back to ~2005 on my YouTube channel if you want.)

Playing at the CanStage Youth Arts Jam in 2009

Writing my own songs and performing them, in particular, nourished my soul. In high school I would write as many as 8 new songs a month, many of which were actually pretty good. (Here’s a collection of some of my favorites if you want to take a listen.) There was something deeply satisfying about crystallizing a particular emotion or experience into a sonically appealing piece of art, and then being able to play it for people. Even on my saddest nights, after breakups or rejections or awkward parties, I could cobble together a song from my tears and wounds and failures, and it would make me feel better without fail.

However, then I went on hormonal birth control, and what followed was a period of three and a half years when I was wracked with mental health symptoms worse than any I’d previously experienced – plus, notably, a total loss of my creative drive. I wrote zero songs for years, and it hurt. I’d sit at the piano, or hold my ukulele protectively against my chest, willing new music to occur to me magically and near-effortlessly the way it once had – but my songwriting impulse was totally gone.

Upon going off the NuvaRing, I hesitantly wrote my first song in years – called “Anxiety,” since that was my main emotion at the time – and more songs started to come after that. But the writing process was slow, stilted, forced. I rarely seemed able to recapture the frenetic energy that had propelled me to write literally dozens of songs a year, way back when.

Anyway, back to the present, and the protocol. I told my spouse a while ago that I really missed playing and singing – that I felt I’d lost part of myself when I’d lost the music. I’d moved out of my parents’ big old house, with its big old piano, and into a small apartment where my roommate and neighbors could hear every note I played. I was paralyzed by self-doubt, worried that my voice was rusty and so was my musicality in general. So with my permission, Matt made a protocol dictating that every month, I would have to learn (or write) one new song, and make an audio or video recording of myself playing it.

In my room, probably writing emo songs, in 2008

It may seem counterintuitive to try to “force” yourself to do something that is “supposed” to be about joy, freedom, play. But sometimes it works. I still only play music once or twice a month, which pales in comparison to my high school days when I’d play almost every night – but that’s better than nothing.

Over the past several months, at Matt’s behest, I’ve covered a ton of songs I admire and love: “Jeremy’s Wedding” and “Where Are You, Judy?” by Andy Shauf, “Vines” by Hippo Campus, “Alone Again, Naturally” by Gilbert O’Sullivan, “Saw You in a Dream” by the Japanese House, “Brooklyn” by Brotherkenzie, “Harvey” by Her’s, and “Girlfriend” by Daniel Bedingfield. Playing other people’s songs isn’t quite the same creative rush as setting my own words to my own melodies, but it nonetheless feels like a breath of fresh air after so many years of keeping my music at a distance emotionally, like a lover you’re about to break up with. I’m tiptoeing my way back into what used to be my greatest joy, and it may not feel exactly the way it used to, but nothing really does. That’s the nature of aging.

In adulthood, sometimes we have to schedule our recreation, plan our playfulness, put our aimless meandering on a calendar – or it simply won’t happen. This protocol has taught me that prioritizing my own creative expression (OUTSIDE OF WORK, crucially) is imperative for my happiness, and is an extremely basic act of self-care. I may not be able to become that starry-eyed, ukulele-wielding teenager I once was, but when I make music, I can almost touch her again, can almost hear her. And it sounds like she’s telling me to sing louder.

What’s Your Sunday Routine?

Kate Sloan

Sundays are the most anxiety-provoking day of the week for many people. For those of us with a standard Monday-to-Friday work week (which is, itself, a privilege in many ways), pre-emptive Monday nerves can sneak into Sunday and turn it from a relaxed respite into pins-and-needles panic. It doesn’t have to be this way!

Recently I read, with fascination, Rachel Syme’s Twitter thread about her favorite way to spend a Sunday. She calls it “Sunday Expert” and it’s a game in which you choose a subject you’re organically intrigued by and decide to make a day of becoming an expert on that thing. This can involve doing research in the form of article-reading and video-watching, or you can take a more feet-on-the-ground approach and physically go to a location that would help you in your research – you might, for example, scope out a house near you where a historical legend used to live, or (in pre- and post-COVID times) even visit a library to satiate your nerdy cravings. To me this seems like such a great way to infuse some fun and frivolity into a day that can otherwise feel so high-pressure and scary.

Rachel Syme also, incidentally, started the #DistanceButMakeItFashion movement, which encourages participants to dress up on Sundays and post pictures on social media to combat lockdown loneliness and pandemic melancholy. There is something about wearing heels and lipstick on a Sunday that helps me feel like I spent my weekend well and am ready for the week to start up again.

I know a lot of advocates of the Getting Things Done (GTD) system like to do their “weekly review” on Sundays. It’s all about processing “loose ends” – like that cheque on your desk you’ve been meaning to deposit, or that note you made early in the week that says “call mom” – as well as reflecting on how you did over the past week and setting goals and intentions for the week to come. This is all very Productivity Nerd™ and I admire it a lot, although I have to admit that my own workflow and energy levels are too chaotic for me to decisively commit to such a system.

My blogger heroine Gala Darling, on the other end of the productivity/relaxation spectrum, has oft advocated for “Sunday Funday,” a weekly ritual of just… not working, all day. For those of you who leave your work at the office when you go home on Friday, this might be a bit confusing, but for freelancers and other self-employed folks (as well as many people whose workplaces just don’t have a good handle on boundaries), it’s all too easy to let your work week carry over into the weekend. This creates a shitty cycle where you don’t get the rest you need and then suddenly it’s Monday morning and you’re just as exhausted as you were last Thursday. Not ideal! I’ve been trying to take this one to heart over the past few months, typically eschewing emails and other less-than-exciting work tasks in favor of rest and recuperation, and it’s lovely.

I asked my Twitter followers about their Sunday routines (thanks, if you contributed!) and the answers varied greatly, though there were some recurring themes: cleaning, planning, laundry, aesthetic top-ups (like re-painting nails or doing an elaborate skincare routine), exercise, and meditation. This all sounds pretty excellent to me!

As for my current routine… Recently my partner and I overhauled our protocol agreements, and one of the things we added was a weekly to-do list for me to complete over the weekend. This list of tasks was always done unofficially before – which is to say, sometimes it didn’t get done at all – but now it’s codified into a digital note which syncs to my partner’s devices so they can keep an eye on my progress. The list is pretty simple: tidy my room, clean out the fridge, take the trash out, do all the dishes, and wash all the dirty sex toys that have piled up over the course of the week. I can do these any time throughout the weekend, but I usually leave ’em til Sunday so I get at least one full day beforehand to do nothing, guilt-free.

What I like about this list is that I can alter the way I complete it in accordance with my energy levels and health status on any given Sunday. On healthy, happy, energetic days, I can knock out the whole list in an hour. When I’m feeling more sluggish or depressed, I might complete one task, rest for a while, do another one, read a chapter of a book, do another one, play video games for a bit, and so on. I do feel motivated to complete the list ASAP, however, because then I get the feeling of accomplishment of having ticked off every item on a list and I don’t need to feel guilty when I take the rest of the day to just chill.

This all sounds very Jordan Peterson of me – “Keep your room tidy and your whole life will feel structured and satisfying!” – but, hey, even a bigoted conservative clock is right twice a day (I guess…). Starting the week with a clean apartment makes me feel so much more able to take on the challenges the week will serve up. It also means I don’t have to juggle multiple energy-draining tasks on work days, when I’m already generally pretty tapped out by the time I close my laptop at 5 p.m. (or 6, or 7, or… 10).

As part of my tidying, I usually come across items I’ll need for the week ahead – like a sex toy I’m on deadline to review, or a page of notes from a client call – and I’ll collect those in an orderly way on my desk so they’ll be accessible when I want ’em. This makes me feel so much more sane and less stressed out all week long.

This is what works for me right now – I’m sure it’ll continue shifting and evolving as I learn more and more about my own patterns and needs. What are your Sunday routines and rituals?

Protocol Diaries: The Airport Pickup

Kate Sloan

Protocol – that is to say, agreed-upon routines and traditions – has been important to me in several of my kink-tinged relationships, but has become especially so in my current long-distance relationship. It often feels like the glue that holds us together when we’re apart, the fuel that helps us power through our long absences from each other’s physical lives.

I am a person who enjoys routines and traditions more generally, as well. I love that my mom makes the same nostalgic dishes on Christmas every year; I love watching fireworks in the park on annual holidays; I love kicking my writer-brain into gear with the same familiar coffee and muffin at the start of every deadline day. These repeated actions lend some structure and purpose to my life, giving me something exciting to look forward to and something comforting to reflect on. So of course I feel that way in my relationships too.

When Matt first started coming to Toronto to visit me, I would always wait dutifully for them at my apartment until they arrived in an Uber. As they neared my building, I would come downstairs and stand outside, glancing nervously at their location on the live map on my phone every few seconds, until they rolled up, got out, and kissed me, suitcase in tow.

But at a certain point, I just couldn’t wait around anymore. Finishing my work early and pacing around my apartment in anticipation often left me feeling agitated and powerless. When you miss someone as much as I always miss Matt, you want to see them as soon as you possibly can. And the soonest I can conceivably see Matt, when they come to visit, is in the arrivals area of the airport.

It gives us the chance to be almost cinematically romantic. The dramatic full-hearted kiss at the airport is such an iconic scene; I can’t help but smile when I see couples reuniting in this way. I notice people smiling at us when we do it, too, as if we’ve reminded them that wholesome true love still exists (though, in private, we’re not exactly wholesome).

At this point you might be wondering, “Kate, why are you calling this a ‘protocol’ like it’s a kink thing, when it’s actually just a romantic tradition?” Fair point, my astute friend. There are three elements that make this activity kinky. First of all, Matt always specifies in advance a particular item I should have ready for them when they arrive, like coffee, candy, or gum. Secondly, sometimes there is some secret sexiness going on under my clothes, in the form of lingerie, a butt plug, or an insertable vibrator I’ve been ordered to wear. And thirdly, anything can be kinky when viewed through a kinky lens. Every time I show up to greet my beloved at the airport, I think of it as not only a romantic gesture but an act of service I am doing for them as their submissive.

I’ve repeated this tradition so many times that my body has started to recognize it at almost a cellular level. When I walk to the subway station, get on the train, and then get onto the airport-bound bus at Kipling station, my brain and guts both know exactly what’s about to happen, and the excitement builds in my belly like the good kind of pre-show jitters. Even though Matt and I have been dating for nearly two years, I still get just as excited to see them in person as I did for our first few dates, and I think this ritual is part of the reason why; it creates a Pavlovian response that puts me into an eager, enthusiastic brainspace, receptive to love and affection.

By the time we get into an Uber that’ll take us back to my apartment, and I lean my head on Matt’s shoulder, I’ve been through an entire emotional journey. This process elevates the mundane aggravation of a long-distance relationship into something almost ceremonial. Love is worth celebrating and getting excited about, and this is one small way I’ve found to do that.

Protocol Diaries: Love Letters

Kate Sloan

“Dear Matt: It’s hard to know what to write to you in a love letter because we are already so forthcoming about our feelings. A letter of this genre should be juicy, revealing, exciting, and you already know the juiciest thing I could tell you, which is that I’m extremely, embarrassingly, unchill-ly in love with you and have been for a while.” -April 1st 2018

When Matt came to visit me in Toronto for the first time, 3 months into our sparkly new long-distance relationship, he brought me a present: a little blue Moleskine notebook and matching pen. Tools for my favorite vocation, in my favorite color. I glowed from the romance of it.

Once we’d spent a lovely weekend together and he’d flown back to New York, I began pondering what to do with this adorable notebook. In discussing this via text, one of us mentioned something about love letters, and the other said, “I was thinking that too!” And so began one of our many romantic traditions.

“I love you, Kate Sloan. Come fly with me. Be my co-pilot as we chart new adventures together. The plane I’m in is about to land, but six months in, I still feel like our journey together is just beginning. Yours with love, Matt.” -June 22nd 2018

We each hand off the notebook to the other every time we see each other in person. We jettison it back and forth between Toronto and New York (and, on unique occasions, Boston, Alexandria, and Montreal). Each time we say goodbye, the person who now possesses the notebook writes a love letter for the other. Then, when we’re together again, Matt reads the new letter aloud to me, whether he wrote it or I did. Typically, there is cuddling and crying. And then we go out for dinner.

“Dear Matt: You know this already, but let me reiterate how happy it makes me that you are coming out as my partner this week. It makes me feel so loved, I feel like my heart is going to overflow and explode. It makes me feel like I’m really a part of your life, and like you want me to be.” -October 19th 2018

I dutifully copy each of Matt’s letters into my own notebook, so I’ll have them to review even when our tome of love letters is in a different country from me. They remind me, at difficult times, that I am loved and appreciated. I am a verbally-minded person who absorbs information best when it comes in the form of articulate words, and so these letters are one of my best tools for combating the “Does he really love me?” shadows that come creeping in. Of course he does. It’s right there in black and white. (Or blue and cream, as the case may be.)

“Don’t be afraid that you or your feelings are too much for me. Their muchness has helped me get in touch with my own in a more authentic way than I have in a while. Your transparency and empathy as a partner are striking and rare. I treasure you, your tears, and the sense of relief that comes when we’ve said our deepest truths to one another.” -November 9th 2018

The practice of writing love letters – a new one every other month or so – is an exercise in mindfulness and being present. I have to dig deep in my heart and ask myself honestly: What do I love about this person, and how can I express it to him well enough that he will deeply, truly understand?

It’s so easy, in long-term relationships, to stop complimenting each other on the qualities and behaviors you love, because you’ve loved them for so long that it seems unnecessary to point them out further. But, as Matt once told me, some things bear repeating in relationships. “I love you” is one of those things. I want to say it as much as I can, in as many ways as possible.

“You’re serious about me, and I’m serious about you too. I want to be with you for more years, more laughs, more trips, more late-night phone calls, more milestones, more orgasms, more kisses, more everything I can experience with you. I want to work hard to make this last and to make it good. That’s what I mean when I say I’m serious about you, Sir.” -December 11th 2018

I also appreciate our little notebook as a record of our budding romance – the way it has bloomed, deepened, and aged. For all my past relationships, I only have my own journal entries to refer to if I want to remind myself how each romance felt. For this one, I have direct windows into the people we each were when we were newly in love. Our limerence leaps off the page, and re-reading our letters always reinvigorates me, like: Oh yeah. I can feel like that. That’s amazing.

“Even at times when you feel sick, anxious, depressed, or exhausted, I want you to know that I’m happy I’m with you. I love taking care of you, holding you, figuring out ways to help you smile, relax, and feel safe again. I’m here for you through all of that, little one, and I want to be. I’m not going anywhere.” -December 28th 2018

We’re about halfway through the notebook now, more than a year into this tradition. I hope we keep it up until the book is filled, and beyond. I hope we can remember, even on days when our connection may be strained or the distance may be hard, that the most basic and important thing you can do in a romantic relationship is to love your partner and to make sure they know that you do.

No matter how many different ways I say it, no matter how many letters I write, no matter how much time passes or how many miles we are apart, one thing remains true: I love Matt and I want him to know it.