Mama Always Said...

My mom used to tell me, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
Of course, that advice was continuously countered by my father's opposing, (and far louder) view:
"If you don't have anything nice to say, say it anyways. If they don't like it, that's just too fucking bad."

I will admit to falling into the latter category of speaking more often than not.

But I digress...
It's not that I don't have anything nice to say, (we already established that that is unfortunately not an issue) the thing is, for once, I just really don't seem to have a damn thing to say. Who knew that was even possible?

I hope it goes away soon...It's a terribly uncomfortable feeling.

My Ghosts

Motionless without direction

listening for the quiet inflection

that tells me where to go

that shows me he knows...

Somehow I became alone 

drifting in the unknown

searching for the way home 

on my own.

Somehow untouchable

unreasonably unreachable

sifting through the sands of time

trapped somewhere in my own mind.

A thought slips through

a dream drifts by

as snow floats down through the cloudy sky.

My ghosts they float through my dreams

quiet and smiling

speaking of places that I have never been

and things that I have never seen.

I sleep with the doors open

always hoping

that when one shines light in the corners

nothing remains hidden

to rise out of the dark unbidden.

I long ago cleaned out my closets

of the skeletons so carefully gathered there

I made room for my ghosts

they see more than most.

When we gather

we offer them a plate

we set them a place

and these days,

sweet mother above and below,

they take up so much space.

I learned long ago

that maybe we don't want to know

what the cards hold

and it is better

just to let the future unfold.

 

People think they want to know what lies ahead

but they will not thank you

for historically we have shunned

those who see

that which we do not understand.

And so I talk to my ghosts

some new

some old

some beloved

and some better left alone.

So often we search

for that which is already within.

And as we travel through this life

we tend forget

that there is grace in death

and beauty in pain.

We forget

to dance in the rain

we refuse to acknowledge our ghosts

and say that yes,

they are our very own

each one

just another soul

looking for the way home.

For You

Blogger absolutely refused to format this how I wanted it, and I have to say--that really pissed me off...

For you
I would be
anything, everything, nothing.
For you
I would laugh and cry,
love, live,
and die.

Please
lead me and I will follow

Dominate me and I will submit

Break me and I will rise like a phoenix from the ashes

control me and I will obey.

Take me and I am yours 

always 

in all ways.

Please
do not leave me floating in this motionless ocean

I cannot swim, I cannot fly, and time is slipping quietly by.

Strip away all that I am

so that I may be all that I have become

Bring me to tears and wipe away my fears.

I have somehow lost my way
so it is to you that I pray
take me back to shore
lead me back to our path,
or tell me where to go
so that I may return home
I cannot seem to find the way on my own.

My compass
it seems broken
torn part by this endless ocean.
tell me which direction to wander
as I wonder
where I am meant to be
and how I am to get there.

Point me towards home
that I may no longer feel alone.
Bind me that I may no longer stray too far.

For you I will float in this motionless ocean

until you lead me to shore.

For you
I would give anything.
For you
I could take everything.

Without you
I am adrift in the seas of time

drowning in my own mind.

Lead me to solid ground.

Please.

And I shall rest before you 

on my knees

forever where I am meant to be

forever what I am meant to be.

Forever
for you.

More Vanilla Ramblings

I turned down the job.
When Alpha said, "If it's stressing you out that much, then maybe it's not worth it" I felt like a ton of bricks had been taken off my shoulders, and the world was a much better place than it had been only moments before.
Of course, the job refusal was accompanied by a somewhat resounding sense of guilt--the lady needs help, and we do need more income. But, it wasn't enough to make a real difference, and I'll do my best to see if I can help her find someone else.

The truth is, I absolutely must find something to do that isn't so physically demanding, and I'm terribly unqualified for a desk job.

So I'm applying myself in other ways for now:

I finished the blanket for Thing2's second baby--it grew way out of proportion. But the good news is, if it survives his childhood, he can put it on his bed when he's twenty.
 Okay, well, technically...I haven't tied off all the yarn ends, but I figure I have a few months to get there (issues finishing projects anyone?).

Looking for a good coconut cake recipe, (hmm, first time I typed that, I got "cocnut", I'm thinking he wouldn't appreciate the humor when related to something you beat up and bake).
I want to try it with lime curd filling, and my birthday is the one I experiment on, so I'm going to try something new.
If anyone has any good recipes for coconut cake, please send them my way!

Preparing myself to get up at the crack of dawn for jury duty selection tomorrow.
The thought of possibly having to sit in a room and come to an agreement about something important with a group of strangers...It's quite unpleasant.
That is not at all what I had in mind when I said I needed something less physically demanding to do--one day I'll learn the ever important correct phrasing for requests to the universe.

Deleting spam comments.
Seriously, it's like someone opened the damn floodgates and the little buggers have just been swarming!
I don't need voodoo to get my girlfriend back, I don't need penis enlargement gimmicks, I don't need nature's cure for thrush, and I certainly have no interest in watching transvestite porn.
I'm one complimentary "Good info on this site, visit my page at_____" from turning the spam filters back on, but I'm resisting the urge because they're such a pain in the ass.

I'm fairly sure that I will get back to our regularly scheduled programming soon, but in the meantime...

Something to look forward to!

Fluctuation Spaces and Other Critters

 I would like to thank Little Monkey for kindly returning my lost and tattered sense of humor--I'm keeping it chained nearby and well plied with caffeine.

Uh huh--really, really was!

 Sometimes I get a bit lost. It usually happens when his standing still coincides with other events that stress me out. So I run around in circles until something gives.

This running around in circles bit tends to bring the brat out in full force.

Now, sassing is a part of our lives--don't say I told, but he's admitted that he would probably get a bit bored  if I had no sass.
But sassing always ends with sweet compliance. It's a little nudge of fun that earns me a swat, a grab, a threat that is as delicious as it is meant to be, a laugh, or all three.

Bratting is quite a bit different. Truthfully, neither of us likes the brat, and if I could throw her out in the snow and slam the door once and for all, I would.

Sometimes the brat is screaming for more control, sometimes she genuinely wants to do whatever the hell she wants, whenever the hell she wants to.
It's always one extreme or the other, (should that be "Another?").

It becomes like the "Great reign of dissatisfaction".

Sometimes I know exactly what I need--usually it's a tightening up of our dynamic--more expression of it.

He comes to an understanding and helps me out.

And sometimes?
Well, hell if I know. Though I would hazard a guess that my hormones are out to sabotage me more often than I would like.

There is a...Fluctuation place.
He lets me have that space to fluctuate when my hormones are out to get me, when things change, when I'm really stressed.
I need it badly, and I am deeply grateful for it.
But getting back out of that fluctuation space can be tricky. And too much fluctuation is when the brat is likely to enter in all her glory. batty little bitch that she is...

Occasionally, that way back is to send the brat packing in tears, and lock the house up tight so that she can't sneak back in (Okay, so lock me up tight is always part of the solution, eventually).

If someone ever gives out that "Submissive of the Year" award, I think that they should be shunned (obviously the results are the same for me either way lol).

Nothing Interesting Here

Seriously, everything worth reading is listed on the blogroll.
Don't say you weren't warned! My sense of humor seems to be lost today, if anyone finds it, I would much appreciate its return lol.

I tend to get a bit disillusioned this time of year because nearing the conclusion of another trip around the sun never seems to mean that I am actually doing anything different--I'm usually pretty much right where I was the last time around lol.

In home care-giving is trying to suck me back in...

The last time I did in home care...Well, it was pretty wretched. I was so over the moon delighted when Alpha told me to quit. Seriously, if I could do back-flips...
Then my former employer committed suicide several months after I quit.
And I said that I wouldn't do that kind of work anymore.
Because often, paid caregivers are the only thing in their life that people who require care can control. So they will exert that control to the entirety of possibility. You will see them at their very worst, and no matter how much they need the help, they will still resent your presence simply because they do need it.
And the state wants to know everything about you just short of your children's eye color.
And the job will always end in the same way whether you stick it out or quit--that person is going to die after years spent in pain, fighting against their own body's refusal to do as it should.

Yea...

I could moan about why on earth do I find myself doing the same crap I don't like to do over and over again. But that answer is pretty obvious--we take what we can get, and what we can get is largely dependent on what we are good at doing.

And it's ironic because, really, how does one get to be so good at doing things they despise?

At the moment, there seems to be no s to Alpha's D.
Because I'm too caught up
in all the things that are, or could have been.
In all the things I should have, but didn't do.
In the things I did do, that I maybe shouldn't have.

Because as another year goes by, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Because on my son's birthday, my mom felt the need to remind me how much mine was absolutely going to suck when it rolled around. Which is okay, because I understand the sentiment--I always miss my dad more on my birthday, and I know it's hard for her because we're human, and we like to reminisce about our children's birth with the other person responsible for their creation.
And it really is okay, but I still feel that it was an unnecessary point for her to make lol.

And that, is all the good news from the happy corner today!

Through the Wringer

My washing machine quit cooperating with the spin cycle a while back, but I developed and perfected a wonderful method for it:

1. Turn heater on low.
2. Prop heater up against front of washing machine, placing it exactly in the front and tilted up, (very important).
3. Make sure heater is in its proper position for the last 11 minutes of the wash cycle, (not 12 minutes, not 10 minutes, 11 minutes).

It worked wonderfully!
Until I had sheets, towels, and work pants to wash all in one day.
And then it didn't.

Sigh.

I have however learned a couple of things about wringing out one's everyone's laundry by hand:

1. This one is very important! For gods sake, do not use cold water for the wash cycle!
2. If you wring out each load on top of the next load to go in, you can cut down on trips to the bathtub.
3. It's a rotten way to finish off one's workout.
4. It might be a valid option to only allow one change of clothes per person per week.

You know, this is not what I had in mind when I said that learning is fun...

A Question of Rules and Communication

 Got another question on the Q&A page...

"I'm in a relationship now, and while my boyfriend has taken on the role of Dominate, there are no rules. I don't know how I would tell him (or even bring the subject up) that I want rules in our relationship. I feel so awkward even thinking about talking to him about it, though I don't think I should. I've no idea how to broach the topic with him. It's making me feel weird being around him with this nagging in my head and heart."

To begin with, I have some thoughts on rules. And while I realize that this is an unsolicited opinion, I'm going to share it anyways lol. I hope you don't mind.

1. Sometimes there actually are rules, we just don't see them as such because they haven't been stated to us in that form.
2. Sometimes we place more importance on rules than we should, and thinking that we need them in their various forms, doesn't mean that they are actually as essential to D/s as we think they are.

Rules must exist to serve a purpose. If they don't, we quickly find ourselves disillusioned with them and wondering why we should follow them at all. If a rule has no meaning to them, it is nearly impossible for it to have meaning for us.

More rules doesn't necessarily mean "Better".

I would be willing to bet that you have the same rule the rest of us have, whether specifically stated or not--be and behave in a way that pleases him.

That said...

I know how difficult it can be to bring up things like wanting rules, (my difficulties with communicating such things were the inspiration for this blog's existence) but the truth is, they're never going to happen if you don't talk to your Dominant.
Just because something feels awkward and is outside our comfort zone, doesn't mean that it should be avoided.

One of the things that I have found about being submissive, is that having something on my mind and not sharing it with him, can really eat me up and create unnecessary barriers. Thus my rule about not only being truthful, but being forthcoming as well. Which, like everything else, fits under the general edict of pleasing him, (not as easy to follow such generalizations as one might think).
Oftentimes, we build something up so much in our minds, and stress about it so much, that we make it a far bigger issue than they will find it to be.

Personally, the first thing I would do is to sit down and have a serious think about why I want rules, what I would want to accomplish with them, and what kind might be beneficial and reasonably incorporated into life.
Why? Because getting what we want rarely takes the form that we think it will. And it's nice to be able to express why we want something when they ask us questions about it.

Then, sorry, but you're going to have to talk to him about it. And if rules do come into existence, they're going to have to be ones that he wants--otherwise they won't hold as much meaning and importance to you, and he won't be as invested in you actually sticking to them. They become pointless, because rules just for rules sake don't really mean anything.

I think that we all have a particular "space" where communication is not necessarily easier, but we know that we are safe to communicate anything. For me, that space often comes when I'm sitting at his feet.
There I know that, no matter how squirmy it makes me, no matter what the topic is, no matter how much I don't want to say it, I can. Because he will accept me for what I am.

So, in my opinion, finding that space, and saying something as simple as, "I think that I would like us to have some rules" is a great place to begin. You can't know where exactly things will go from there, but the only way to discover it is to start the conversation.

I wish you the best of luck, and I hope that you find a way to start a conversation about this with your Dominant.

Already?

My oldest baby turns ten today...

According to my chiropractor, crab carbonara  and 4 layer chocolate mousse cake accompanied by homemade strawberry ice cream, is not the common fare for a ten year old's birthday.

Who knew?

He's just too aware that it's the one day a year he can ask for any meal and I'll make it lol.

I had better get in gear...Did I mention that the cake is going to be covered with chocolate coconut ganache?

Me and the Lies I tell Myself

I have a pretty good grasp on me, and for the most part, I'm comfortable with who I am.

Yes, the catch here would be "For the most part."

I don't "Do" lies of omission. Just doesn't work--even if I could pull it off, I would be completely miserable until he dragged whatever it was out of me.

Lies to myself that I firmly believe however? Different story altogether. I am actually quite good at them.

Uh huh, I'm still going on about the whore thing.

The thing about lying to oneself is that, if you do it for long enough, what you say almost becomes true because you have spent so much time telling yourself that it is.

More coffee anyone? Great, bring me another cup too please.

One of the problems is, that it becomes a bit like the butterfly effect--one little thing causes changes to other little things, and before you know it, something big that you hadn't anticipated changes as well.

Then one day you wake up to the uncomfortable realization that someone else knows a part of you far better than you do, because they chose not to believe the lies that you told yourself.

Where on earth am I going with this? Well I do have a direction, (or two) in mind, but it might not land on earth.

I have always had terrible self control. I mean, really bad. But I place a great value on Alpha's self control, so I spent a long time thinking that I had to cling to my own crappy self control. Kind of along the lines of not expecting something from someone else that I'm not willing to do myself I guess.
The thing is, by spending so much time trying to exert self control, I wasn't leaving room for his control.

Soo...What?

Oh yea, the lies I tell myself.

He knows the sexual part of me far better than I know it myself.
He knows that I'm a hopeless flirt, that I have a severe weakness for men with a Dominant bent,  that I have great morals which are not complimented by my shoddy self control, and that I'm kinky enough to make the majority of people cringe (including myself).

He also knows how very much I don't like to admit those truths to myself, let alone him. But if I haven't admitted them to myself, then I'm not hiding them from him right?
Logic might not be my strong point, but I'm pretty good at twisted logic!

Now back to that pesky butterfly effect thing...

By spending so much time repressing traits related to my sexuality, I did a damn good job repressing my sexuality altogether. I would like to say that it was completely inadvertent, but I'm trying to work on that whole "lying to myself" thing lol.

I think though, that his control of me far exceeds the control I had/have of myself, and that he knows my sexuality so much better than I do because he is more accepting of it than I am.

Perhaps being a whore isn't the issue at all--but that what matters is whose whore, and the control of the person she belongs to...

Hehe

Ooh, somebody made a funny about me!

Lol.

Energy, Realities, and Associated Ramblings

A comment that Michael left on my last post got me to thinking. I'm pretty sure that I have wandered quite far from the original intent of the comment, but inspiration can be funny like that.

I have said before that energy is everything, and everything is ultimately about energy. As much as my views seem to change and collide over time, I still believe this one to be true.

I think that, for the most part, we all tend to walk on a fine line between El Mundo Bueno and El Mundo Malo (The Good Reality and The Bad Reality). That fine line avoids extremes of good and bad events, and provides life with a sense of balance.

Sometimes we fall into a Good Reality, where the extremes are good. Pain is good, pleasure is good, tears are a release--not a torment. Outcomes are as we wish them to be.
Other times, we fall into a Bad Reality, and the extremes are bad. Anything that can go wrong will, pain is bad, pleasure is warped, tears are no more than an expression of misery.
And we adapt to viewing events with the notion that they will inevitably become as terrible as they possibly can.

I believe that the difference between these realities is about the energy in them.

For me, S/m isn't really about pain, sex isn't just about pleasure, and D/s isn't all about physical control.
These things are about energy exchanges and the realities that we create within those exchanges.

I have been injured, I have been raped, I have lacked control in situations wherein I desperately needed to have control. Those were not good experiences.
But Alpha can hurt me, he can force me, he can take away all semblances of my control.
And those are some of the most amazing experiences of my life.
The simplest difference of those very complex subjects? The first set of events is a Bad Reality. The second set of events is a Good Reality.

Disassociation is about an extreme place on the fine line between realities. It's a place of non-feeling, non-energy...Nothingness of mind.
It is not a place that I am fond of, but it is one that I used to be very good at getting to. Sometimes I still fight not to go there--old habits are hard to break. And sometimes it is only Alpha's extreme dislike of that place which keeps me out of it.

The more time you spend together, and the more you explore, the stronger resonances with each other become.
A look creates a physical reaction, a sound creates a feeling, an expressed thought creates a mental state.

As different as they can be, all of those experiences have one thing in common--energy.

As much as I want him to fuck my body, I need him to fuck my mind. I need the connection that energy exchange provides.
Energy makes the mindfuck possible (we'll ignore for the moment, that people often seem to find me by searching for the term "Mindfuck" and usually what I meant was not at all what they were looking for).

Really, it's all about a looping exchange of energy--power exchange is energy exchange, the give and take of pain is energy exchange, surrender and control are about energy exchange.

It's about the beasts within, which ones we choose to feed, and how we choose to sate their hunger.

And we try to do it all in a way that will allow us to spend more time in El Mundo Bueno.

Fantasy Sadists

I have lots of random thoughts fighting to get out first. From  stupid people completely lacking in common sense, to (figuratively) dripping sex, to working the phrase "Deviously dangerous" into a sentence about BDSM (so what if the inspiration for that was a troll on another person's blog, and it wasn't meant as a compliment? It's gonna be a great sentence one of these days lol).

I'll try to only go in one direction at once with my twenty two cents.

Since we had the house to ourselves for a little while, we took full advantage. For Alpha "Taking full advantage" often means doing things that elicit sounds of pain from me.

I informed him that I am not a masochist after all, and that "The fantasy of belonging to a sadist was so much more fun than the reality."
Much to my surprise, he looked at me thoughtfully and said, "You should do a post about it. I think that many people have the fantasy, but feel differently about the reality."

So...

Alpha indulges his sadistic tendencies in little ways quite often, but what he really loves, what really gets him off, is the sound of my pain.
Given that our kids are with us 24/7, it's not a sound that he gets to hear very often.

According to him, "There's nothing sexier than the sound of a woman in pain."
The sound that comes from the pleasure-pain combination does something for him that just...

The fantasy of a sadist is hot.
It's sexy, and dark, and mysterious, and scary, and exciting, and fulfilling, and dangerous, and well--it's hot right?

The reality of a sadist is, well, it's all of those things. But it is also very different. It can be unpleasant, unwanted, inescapable, and...Just downright painful.

The reality is that he will hurt you until his desire to do so is sated, until his need is fed, until he is done.
Not until you no longer want it, feel that you have no need for it, or until you think that you are done.

In fact, in my experience, Alpha will not quit until long after I am sure that I can take no more.
It seems that before then, his experience remains incomplete. And to get what he needs, he has to take me beyond what I need.

Sometimes it scares the shit out of me. And the fear gets me off. Then getting off feeds the pain. And my pain gets him off.

The fantasy sadist will give you what you want, and just as much as you think you need.
The reality of a sadist is that he will take what he wants until he has gotten what he needs.

A Whore is a Whore, But Whose Whore?

A while back I wrote a post called "The Monogamous Whore", and there was a bit of a debate about definitions, and I don't think that I have really written anything about the term since then.

Why bring the term up now? Well, you might be sorry I asked, because this is likely to be one of those rambling posts that gets wrapped up while Alpha is in the shower lol.

We ended up surrounded by of a gaggle of women last night (yes I said gaggle, and yes I hates them). On the bright side, Alpha was the only person who spilled beer on me, which is a first (though I'm not 100% sure that the drop which went down the back of my pants was accidental).

Anyways...It was rather clear that he could have had his pick to take home if he had wanted. Ironically, this led to a rather blatant discussion about my whorishness that ended with me having to strip in the bathroom in order to take him my underwear.

It all started in the parking lot, when he leaned back and drawled, "You're a fucking whore and you know it."

Umm, well...Maybe?

He snorted derisively, "If you didn't have me in your life, when you were younger you would have just gotten fucked and used up. At this point in your life, you would see what you wanted and go fuck it. And there would be a lot of them."

That led to the slightly uncomfortable realization that he was right.

You can tell if someone wants to flirt when you make eye contact with them, and it's not much of a stretch to discern from there if you can fuck them.
It's an assessment that I have gotten better at making as time has gone by.

One uncomfortable realization at a time is never quite enough for him though...
"You love sex." He stated matter-of-factly. "You just hate to admit it. Just like you love it when I stick up knife up your ass--just because you don't like to admit it doesn't mean it isn't true."

Ahem, well...

See, as much as I seem to have this internal barrier against admitting that I like sex, I do like it. I like it a lot.  And as much as he is the one and only for me, without him and his control? I would  probably go after everything I saw that I wanted.
Kind of like the way one sizes up a steak before digging in, (I do like mine bleeding and ready to jump off the plate) I would have a terrible predatory streak. Which is ironic given that it would all be with the ultimate goal of having those predatory tendencies turned on me.

I was shifting around uncomfortably trying to come to terms with my thoughts, and said, "I'm not sure how I feel about that. I have to think about it." He shrugged, (what's with all that damn nonchalance?) and said, "Why do you have to know how you feel about it?"
Umm..."I don't know why, I just do!"

He leaned in, "You're a fucking whore, and I love it. Because that means I could pick one of those women and take her home and make you watch me fuck her. Because you really will fuck whoever I tell you to. And as much as it scares the shit out of you, you love it too. You are My whore."

Is he suddenly the king of uncomfortable truths or what?

I think that what is most uncomfortable about admitting that I am a huge whore at heart, is admitting it to him. Oh sure, he knows it, but if I actually admit it myself, then I have to admit that I could see myself acting on it. And maybe he wouldn't like that so much (oh hush, logic has no place here, after all, we are talking about how I feel about something lol).

It is interesting though, because we had talked about secrets before all this, and how even if I could do something like sleep with someone else without telling him, I would live a totally miserable existence. But it wouldn't be that difficult to sleep with someone else if he told me to do it.

I am terribly fuzzy, and I'm not even going to read this post to see if it makes sense.
I think that we need more than one or two date nights a year. My perspective on life is incredibly improved this morning...

Dear Universe, Pretty Please?

February did not begin quite as auspiciously as I had hoped that it would...

I haven't been sleeping. You know those nights when you dream so much that you feel like you didn't rest, but you don't even remember the damn dreams? Yea, like that...

Work is a bitch, and not having enough work is also a bitch lol.

But...
Tomorrow, for the first time in approximately nine months, my mom will watch both of the kids for the night.

And this time, we aren't going to behave as if we have a 5:00 PM curfew!

We are going to go out, and eat, and maybe dally in some deserted parking lots, and go dance to some wonderful music. Well, I'll dance, and I'll try to make it interesting enough for him to want to dance with me lol.
I'm thinking that when we get home, I'll be asleep on my feet, but he'll do unspeakably delicious and rather loud things to me, and then I'll sleep like a rock.

Oh please universe, I've been good!
Please don't make me reschedule my twice a year night for the third time in three weeks.