The Memories Which Have Forgotten Me

I watch as the sands of time slip through my hands

like the grains of memories 

and the voices of those long gone

losing all rhythm and rhyme

to reason and time.

Keep one eye on the monsters under my bed
an ear out for the voices in my head
open the closet doors
to release the skeletons under my floors.

Whispered on the winds
the quiet call of long forgotten sins
the quiet rustle of snakes in the grass
like the sands of time slipping through an hour glass
hidden in the creaking of an old wooden floor
behind old iron doors
locked away in the maze of memories
who we are and who we were meant to be.

In the waves of a distant sea
watching the world around me
what I was and all of the things I have forgotten to be
I remember the question long since phrased to me,
when they look at you
what will the world see?

So I keep one eye on the monsters under my bed
an ear out for the voices in my head
the quiet whispers of my dead.
I open the closet doors
to release the skeletons under my floors
slipping into the memories which have forgotten me
like the sands of time trickling their way slowly through my mind.

Advice, Ideas, Thoughts, A Good Kick in the Shins?

Here's the thing...I meet with teachers, principal, and counselor tomorrow to convince them my kid is ahead and they should work with him.

But...His grades are not looking bright. If anything, they're floating on the bottom edge of average. He bombed a 3 addends test this week, which just boggles my mind because he can do those just fine, and learned how to ages ago.

I have never seen grades this bad out of him. And I truly do believe that it's not because I had a lax grading system--I always gave letter grades (here it's basically pass or don't pass through 3rd grade, but I can see his percentages), and he always did really well! I've never given out a free grade in my life, and my eldest is towards the top of his class, completely convinced that public school is wayyyy easier.

Wtf?

So...They're going to think I'm full of shit, right? If I didn't know him, and I looked at his grades, I would say that he was damn near special ed special. *Sigh*

Do I have any chance of convincing these people that I'm not just one of those bat-shit-crazy mothers with average kids who just thinks they're bright when they're really actually...Slow?

Any and all advice will be considered and greatly appreciated!

Dominanant Responsibilities

 This post was suggested some time ago (like, aeons), but I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes so, yea...

A while back, there was an interesting conversation over at Under His Hand on the subject of dominant responsibilities. I'm too lazy to go by and dig it up, but if you're not, it was rather interesting.

Alright, as a dominant, he's got a shitload of responsibilities, right? I think that the issues start when we begin attempting to define those responsibilities. I mean, we all have them--kids, work, critters, family, the list goes on.

When it comes to dominance, I'm betting that you'll get a different answer from everyone you ask. Sure, I do have expectations, ideas of what I feel he should be responsible before, but technically, those feelings don't mean it is so.

His responsibilities are the ones he chooses to have. Realistically, if we want ttwd to work for us as a couple, and if he desires my willing submission, he will assume responsibilities which are conducive to such.

I think that a dominant's responsibilities are the ones he defines. As a submissive, you can either get along with it, or hit the road. Theoretically. If you're capable of walking away.

In my mind, Alpha has many responsibilities:
Not to harm me
to always keep the well-being of myself and the family in the forefront of his mind
to provide for our needs
to listen
etc.
These are responsibilities which he himself has defined.

Ultimately, I suppose that my answer to this question is that a Dominant is responsible for keeping his word. When we take away all the details, all the ideas, all the concepts of avoiding harm and acting in a manner which is conducive to the health and well-being of the people under their control, a dominant is merely responsible for keeping his word. That can encompass a whole lot, or very little.

From where I'm standing in relation to exchange of power in a D/s relationship, the answer to this question could easily come down to expectations--what I expect from him. And expectations, they're such a killer from this side of the slash. Submissive expectations in an established relationship cannot be used to define the dominance one receives.

I expect him to keep his word, and while that keeping might encompass a whole hell of a lot of other things, his word is the bottom line--the foundation all that other stuff must rest upon.
Of course, he has also reserved the right to change his mind whenever he damn well pleases. And sometimes, that one really sucks...

Needing the Need

The knife slides its way down treacherous body, slowly tracing lines like marks in the sand to be washed away by the glory of insatiable waves.

"You know you need it" he whispers as he leans over me.

I shake my head in disagreement fighting to hold on to what little shreds of sanity I have left. Even as my traitorous body betrays me, arching towards the sharp.

Why is it always the sharpest edges which have the greatest pull, the darkest ideas that shine the brightest in the shadows of night, the most dangerous distractions which call the loudest?

As the tears trickle down my face, in unwanted release, he tells me that I need it, and that "Some of us just need to be needed". And I realized something obvious, something basic, something which has been written in neon ink for ages--he needs my need. That's what he gets out of this whole arrangement. Beyond the obvious perks of service, and getting his way when he wants it.

My need feeds his being in some way. It fans the flames of who he is and solidifies the role he sees himself playing in this game of life. Who knew?

His hands, so large for their delicate touch, trace the tears across my cheeks as I finally admit to the lonely--I don't want to be needy and lonely!
"Oh baby, did you really think you wouldn't miss it? You've lived there your whole life. Of course you were going to miss it. 
This. Being mine. Being owned by me. You need it. And I need your need."

Stupid System

I get it now. Why so many kids give up, flail off, and do poorly in school.

It's because the system sucks.

Everybody's always going on about "These kids today" and how
'They're not motivated to make anything of themselves, blah blah blah."

I'm inclined to think that, quite often, it's not their fault. Depending on your geographical location, I suppose, not only is excelling not encouraged, it's damn near impossible.

Two weeks in, and I've already had it with the public school system.

To skip a grade, I'd have to homeschool the little guy for two years because of "age restrictions", then take in the piles of every piece of work he did over those two years to prove that he did it.

If he tests into the 99th percentile, he can go to the gifted program next semester. So basically, he's screwed this semester, and any kid who places into the 90th percentile, but not the 99th, is stuck being taught the lower concepts with the rest of the crowd. It's asking a lot of the little guy, especially given that he is completely unfamiliar with the testing format. That's also a whole lot of pressure for a six year old when he knows it's the difference between being bored to tears and happily challenged!

If you're behind, there's programs galore, and everybody has ideas about how to help you. If you're average your golden--you can roll with the crowd, slide along under the radar with minimum effort, and be considered just peachy. If you're ahead of the curve, but not "Profoundly gifted", you're just screwed. Nobody knows what to do with you, or has time to deal with you.

They're testing him for various things this week and next. Next Friday I meet with his teachers, the principal, and the school counselor to see if they can work with him. You know, to try and do something about my problem child. Since, apparently, it's a problem to be smart. Unless you're a genius, which he is not.

Stupid ass jacked up system.

Miles Upon Miles of Concrete

I have already had enough of these city streets

I want to step outside and scream at these miles upon miles of concrete

all these people so secure in their sleep

and their ideas of what they want people to think they are.

It's a bitter pill to swallow

I have too much time to wallow.

I want to go home

and it's easy to be different when one can choose to be alone

secluded on their own.

I thought that wherever he went would be okay because he was my home
I underestimated the depths to which the mountains were in my bones
what it would feel like when the trees no longer whispered in my ears
and the familiar stars no longer sung their songs in the dark.

I always knew that I didn't quite fit in this world

so I made my home

a place so far away that the stars aren't the same, 

where only the trees know your name
and the ability to survive reminds you that you are alive.
Where who you are is more important than what you have done.

It's lonely here.
Here in these city streets
with these miles upon miles of concrete
where no one knows your name
they just know that you aren't the same.

I don't care about fitting in

yet here I don't fit
and I have never before known
this homesickness which seeps into my bones
from the tiny cracks in my soul.

Over the years, I've spent lots of time alone
but never before have I known such consuming loneliness.

Well...

I got dressed presentably, trotted down to the school, and presented a solid case for the kiddo in a professional and confidant manner.
Then I went to the grocery store to buy milk,
After putting said milk away, I walked into the bedroom, looked down, and noticed a nice black thong creeping it's way out of my pant leg.

I have never prayed so hard that underwear began falling out of my pants in the grocery store...

I wish...Lol.