Maybe if I drink enough, it will convince me that I'll make it to Friday...?
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Coffee...
I woke up with coffee on my mind. Well, coffee and a whole lot of other crap, but coffee sounds good. And reasonable. And absolutely necessary for survival.
Maybe if I drink enough, it will convince me that I'll make it to Friday...?
Maybe if I drink enough, it will convince me that I'll make it to Friday...?
Sunday, September 6, 2015
The Date of My Last Post Labeled M/s
April 24th, 2014.
April 24th, 2014 was the date of my last post labeled "M/s".
Sometimes I feel like a part of me died when we started this new life. Most times I just don't have the time to notice that it's gone. Then I'll catch a glimpse of a picture...Trees on a mountain or a woman on her knees. And I remember...That I once was something, and now I am something else.
The outside world seems to appreciate this woman, this something else. The woman who opens the doors in the morning and manages things day in and day out. The woman who never submits, never needs, is not made of the wind in the trees. The woman who writes reviews, chases employees with paperwork, and tells corporate presidents what she does and does not like about their products, all the while knowing that her yes or no determines the sale.
I don't mind her really, this person I have become.
I look at my husband, and I remember when he once was something else. When the world didn't weigh him down so very much, when there was energy and time for dominance and something else.
Our position here is precarious. It is based upon the whims of fortune, our ability to manage the improbable, our drive to get up and put out more each and every day.
We lived in one place for a very long time. Our place. And now we live in someone elses place, in what seems to be in an entirely different world.
Our lease is up next month, and if we cannot renew, we have to find another house and move. I'd be lying if I said this didn't freak me out. It's one thing to search for housing from the comfort and safety of what is yours, it's another thing completely to search from the place of nothing to fall back on. I've been looking...And I can't find anything.
April 24th, 2014 was the date of my last post labeled "M/s".
He reminded me yesterday that I am his and always have been. I was so busy telling him that part of me died when we left everything we knew, everything I was, behind...I almost missed that little flutter...That sense of magic and mystery, the sensation which comes only with the feeling of being owned...
The truth is, I have become M/s lazy. Relationship lazy even. We both have. While it inevitably lives on under the skin, like a whisper in the wind, D/s, M/s, power exchange, relationships, they take time and effort to sustain. They require feeding and regular maintenance. And the rest of the truth is, anything we have leftover at the end of the day is desperately given to our kids in an attempt to not let them fall through the cracks of this craziness we call life.
There's an itch under my skin. An itch for the wind in the trees, a moment where all I know, see, feel, and breath, is life on my knees. But my mind won't let me rest, won't let go of the continuous test of daily operations.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, my mind became my master. And somehow, somewhere inside, that is my disaster.
April 24th, 2014.
April 24th, 2014 was the date of my last post labeled "M/s".
April 24th, 2014 was the date of my last post labeled "M/s".
Sometimes I feel like a part of me died when we started this new life. Most times I just don't have the time to notice that it's gone. Then I'll catch a glimpse of a picture...Trees on a mountain or a woman on her knees. And I remember...That I once was something, and now I am something else.
The outside world seems to appreciate this woman, this something else. The woman who opens the doors in the morning and manages things day in and day out. The woman who never submits, never needs, is not made of the wind in the trees. The woman who writes reviews, chases employees with paperwork, and tells corporate presidents what she does and does not like about their products, all the while knowing that her yes or no determines the sale.
I don't mind her really, this person I have become.
I look at my husband, and I remember when he once was something else. When the world didn't weigh him down so very much, when there was energy and time for dominance and something else.
Our position here is precarious. It is based upon the whims of fortune, our ability to manage the improbable, our drive to get up and put out more each and every day.
We lived in one place for a very long time. Our place. And now we live in someone elses place, in what seems to be in an entirely different world.
Our lease is up next month, and if we cannot renew, we have to find another house and move. I'd be lying if I said this didn't freak me out. It's one thing to search for housing from the comfort and safety of what is yours, it's another thing completely to search from the place of nothing to fall back on. I've been looking...And I can't find anything.
April 24th, 2014 was the date of my last post labeled "M/s".
He reminded me yesterday that I am his and always have been. I was so busy telling him that part of me died when we left everything we knew, everything I was, behind...I almost missed that little flutter...That sense of magic and mystery, the sensation which comes only with the feeling of being owned...
The truth is, I have become M/s lazy. Relationship lazy even. We both have. While it inevitably lives on under the skin, like a whisper in the wind, D/s, M/s, power exchange, relationships, they take time and effort to sustain. They require feeding and regular maintenance. And the rest of the truth is, anything we have leftover at the end of the day is desperately given to our kids in an attempt to not let them fall through the cracks of this craziness we call life.
There's an itch under my skin. An itch for the wind in the trees, a moment where all I know, see, feel, and breath, is life on my knees. But my mind won't let me rest, won't let go of the continuous test of daily operations.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, my mind became my master. And somehow, somewhere inside, that is my disaster.
April 24th, 2014.
April 24th, 2014 was the date of my last post labeled "M/s".
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Alive
I love dreaming.
In my dreams, is where I find myself feeling truly alive.
I dreamed last night.
Awful and sad
beautiful and mysterious
angry and afraid.
Alive.
I dreamed that my home was gone
nowhere to run back to
no going home
it was terrible and sad
I slipped momentarily into this conciousness we call waking life
feeling tears sliding down my cheeks.
Lost.
Alive.
I dreamed about libraries and beautiful mysterious creatures
a world of wonderful and strange things
it was magic and imagination
stories of tales rising from the ages
and walking off the pages.
Alive.
I dreamed about someone else
he found someone else
blonde and beautiful,
she was who he chose because I was not there
it hurt
wanting him back
to be mine once again.
I was angry and alone.
Alive.
I dreamed last night.
Of feeling.
Of being.
Alive.
In my dreams, is where I find myself feeling truly alive.
I dreamed last night.
Awful and sad
beautiful and mysterious
angry and afraid.
Alive.
I dreamed that my home was gone
nowhere to run back to
no going home
it was terrible and sad
I slipped momentarily into this conciousness we call waking life
feeling tears sliding down my cheeks.
Lost.
Alive.
I dreamed about libraries and beautiful mysterious creatures
a world of wonderful and strange things
it was magic and imagination
stories of tales rising from the ages
and walking off the pages.
Alive.
I dreamed about someone else
he found someone else
blonde and beautiful,
she was who he chose because I was not there
it hurt
wanting him back
to be mine once again.
I was angry and alone.
Alive.
I dreamed last night.
Of feeling.
Of being.
Alive.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Stranger in My Own Skin
I come here to flip through the pages of my past
like a stranger in a strange world
a stranger in my own skin
a stranger to my own words.
I come here to gaze at the memories of who I was
to scratch the itch of remembering where I came from
like a stranger in my own pages
reading the words of someone else
living a life of fantasy
like a dream where you look in and say
"I wish that was me".
Stretched far too thin
I have become a stranger in my own skin
looking in
reading through the pages of my own story
some former kind of glory.
I come to scratch the itch of remembering
where I came from
recalling who I was
to scratch the itch under my skin
like reading a book that someone else wrote
trying to get lost in the fantasies of their mind
amazed that all of these words were once mine.
I have become
a stranger in my own skin
standing on the outside looking in
at what I was and what I have become
the words on these pages, familiar like a stranger's story
read time and time again until they become like a distant memory
of what should be
or what could have been.
My life has become a memory
and so I dip my fingers into the water and watch the ripples roll out
a moment in time
flipping through these pages wondering in amazement
that this was all mine.
Like staring through the mists into another land
I reach out for that feeling of just
being
and it slips through my fingers as I close my hands around it
a moment of forever in time
captured in words
a fantasy of what I was and what was mine
but I am a stranger here
a stranger to my mind
a stranger to the words on the pages I wrote.
A million tiny expressions of my soul
poured out through my fingertips over the years
like the soft rush of air from my lips
the firm grip of his hands on my hips
the feeling of chains stretching across my skin
the brutal kiss of the whip
the sensation of my soul drowning in his control.
Standing on the outside looking in
wondering at what is and what could have been.
I look into the mirror and I wonder at the woman looking back at me
eyes of a familiar color
no longer flashing the wild abandon of the lover
no longer reflecting the untamed wilderness of a soul
begging to be chained.
I am now
stretched too thin
standing on the outside looking in
I have become a stranger to the life I used to live
a stranger to the beauty of my own story.
I am
a stranger in my own skin.
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Ramblings of the Most Boring Kind
Has is really been more than two weeks since I last came here to ramble?? Since I cannot seem to keep track of the days, I will take Blogger's word for it. No wonder I woke up missing it here. Not even here really...I have nothing interesting to say or share, or even to vent. Sure, I could do lots of venting, but its not interesting. I miss you though. The people who come here. And I miss roaming around Blogland in my free time. Free time...Ha. 55-60 hour work weeks just don't seem to offer much of that!
I have been waking up with a case of the funks lately. Well, for the few minutes I have to think about those funks anyways.
I'm tempted to do my normal bit and run straight to the paperwork. My deadline got moved up...In no uncertain terms I was informed just how unhappy our general manager would be and how freely he would make sure that no one else was happy if I missed the deadline. I refrained from pointing out that, given the people he's talking about, very few of us would not return the favor...
My son asked if I'd get fired for taking a day off. I laughed--not this week kiddo, not this week. This week my job is the most secure it will ever be because 90% of the paperwork this company needs to get going lives only on my desktop at the moment. It's a terrible thing really. We'll see how well (or badly) I have done after the state audits them. I am going to audit them myself first. You know, with all that extra time I have to do so before someone has a hissy of epic proportions...Wish me luck.
Someone gave us a very nice bottle of champagne (I can't even spell that) for our anniversary, I'm saving it until after we see how all my paperwork pans out. My backup plan, should it go south, is Tequila. Sounds reasonable, right?
Did I mention that I miss you? I miss the interaction, the visitors, the knowledge that my words are never lonely because there's always someone there to read them, someone there who knows that they exist, someone who understands what they mean when they pour out of me.
He read here the other day, and he was not happy with what he saw. We both have good, if very stressful jobs. Somehow I fell into a position by default of starting to work for free because it had to be done, knowledge, drive, and brains, that I would never have gotten back home. He's got his dream job. The kids are healthy and mostly happy. I stick to my food budget, but I don't add the pennies. Life is not bad here.
There's this concept, well lots of them really, but one in particular that I doubt I'll ever adapt to. In fact, I hope that I do not, and I certainly wouldn't wish for my children to do so. It's about seeing people not as who they are, but how they exist as assets--it's not about valuing people for who they are, but only what they can do for you. And I don't like it. I think its a crappy approach to humanity.
Life is not bad here...
Yet...It's still not "my" life.
Odd feeling, that...
I actually took yesterday off, so I had better make up for it today.
I have been waking up with a case of the funks lately. Well, for the few minutes I have to think about those funks anyways.
I'm tempted to do my normal bit and run straight to the paperwork. My deadline got moved up...In no uncertain terms I was informed just how unhappy our general manager would be and how freely he would make sure that no one else was happy if I missed the deadline. I refrained from pointing out that, given the people he's talking about, very few of us would not return the favor...
My son asked if I'd get fired for taking a day off. I laughed--not this week kiddo, not this week. This week my job is the most secure it will ever be because 90% of the paperwork this company needs to get going lives only on my desktop at the moment. It's a terrible thing really. We'll see how well (or badly) I have done after the state audits them. I am going to audit them myself first. You know, with all that extra time I have to do so before someone has a hissy of epic proportions...Wish me luck.
Someone gave us a very nice bottle of champagne (I can't even spell that) for our anniversary, I'm saving it until after we see how all my paperwork pans out. My backup plan, should it go south, is Tequila. Sounds reasonable, right?
Did I mention that I miss you? I miss the interaction, the visitors, the knowledge that my words are never lonely because there's always someone there to read them, someone there who knows that they exist, someone who understands what they mean when they pour out of me.
He read here the other day, and he was not happy with what he saw. We both have good, if very stressful jobs. Somehow I fell into a position by default of starting to work for free because it had to be done, knowledge, drive, and brains, that I would never have gotten back home. He's got his dream job. The kids are healthy and mostly happy. I stick to my food budget, but I don't add the pennies. Life is not bad here.
There's this concept, well lots of them really, but one in particular that I doubt I'll ever adapt to. In fact, I hope that I do not, and I certainly wouldn't wish for my children to do so. It's about seeing people not as who they are, but how they exist as assets--it's not about valuing people for who they are, but only what they can do for you. And I don't like it. I think its a crappy approach to humanity.
Life is not bad here...
Yet...It's still not "my" life.
Odd feeling, that...
I actually took yesterday off, so I had better make up for it today.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
In the Light of Day
I had dream last night...Honestly, I don't even remember it, but I remember the feeling. A feeling that I can't seem to feel anymore. There's a hollow place where it once took up so much of my being...
I woke up remembering the feeling, a glimpse in a dream, and I grabbed at it, tried to wrap it around me and pull it out of bed with me. I tried to hold it close to my chest, to sink into it and forget the rest..But in the light of day, slowly it fades away.
It was that feeling that only comes when there is no thought, no self, no control of self, just a sea of Dominance to drown in and surround me. That feeling of being owned wherein the world doesn't exist--just a million stars floating on a thousand waves in the deep end of an endless ocean of master and slave. The knowledge of predator and prey...That the prey will always willingly bleed a thousand seas to feed the beast, and that all is as it should be.
I woke up with a feeling, and I tried to grab it, to sink into it, to once again be it. Complete. yet slowly it fades away with the light of day.
I might be an up and down kind of person, with mood swings to rival an unpredictable storm, but I know things about myself. One of those things is that true happiness, for me, only exists when I can feel that feeling.
I know things about reality too, like we have to live in it, and if we don't make our current reality work, we are in for a world of hurt. He doesn't have the time or the energy to do what it takes to get me to that place, to fight me because I cannot seem to yield, to put me in our space, and keep me even remotely near. Because I'm a million miles away, in yesterday, tomorrow, and today. I'm on the other side of the world every time he reaches for me, and I can't even seem to dip my toes into the sea.
I'm not happy here, and I am aware that we are in the midst of what is (hopefully) a peak time of stress, so it's unfair to make a blanket statement about how much it all sucks.
Yes, we are a team. An apparently professional and competent duo who have been fortunate enough to find themselves on a team of consummate professionals with amazing minds and incredible drive.
Yet...I am becoming painfully aware that I am no longer me and we are no longer us.
I woke up remembering a feeling, a glimpse in a dream, and I grabbed
at it, tried to wrap it around me and pull it out of bed with me. I
tried to hold it close to my chest, to sink into it and forget the
rest..But in the light of day, slowly it fades away.
I woke up remembering the feeling, a glimpse in a dream, and I grabbed at it, tried to wrap it around me and pull it out of bed with me. I tried to hold it close to my chest, to sink into it and forget the rest..But in the light of day, slowly it fades away.
It was that feeling that only comes when there is no thought, no self, no control of self, just a sea of Dominance to drown in and surround me. That feeling of being owned wherein the world doesn't exist--just a million stars floating on a thousand waves in the deep end of an endless ocean of master and slave. The knowledge of predator and prey...That the prey will always willingly bleed a thousand seas to feed the beast, and that all is as it should be.
I woke up with a feeling, and I tried to grab it, to sink into it, to once again be it. Complete. yet slowly it fades away with the light of day.
I might be an up and down kind of person, with mood swings to rival an unpredictable storm, but I know things about myself. One of those things is that true happiness, for me, only exists when I can feel that feeling.
I know things about reality too, like we have to live in it, and if we don't make our current reality work, we are in for a world of hurt. He doesn't have the time or the energy to do what it takes to get me to that place, to fight me because I cannot seem to yield, to put me in our space, and keep me even remotely near. Because I'm a million miles away, in yesterday, tomorrow, and today. I'm on the other side of the world every time he reaches for me, and I can't even seem to dip my toes into the sea.
I'm not happy here, and I am aware that we are in the midst of what is (hopefully) a peak time of stress, so it's unfair to make a blanket statement about how much it all sucks.
Yes, we are a team. An apparently professional and competent duo who have been fortunate enough to find themselves on a team of consummate professionals with amazing minds and incredible drive.
Yet...I am becoming painfully aware that I am no longer me and we are no longer us.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Having a Moment
I had a moment this morning...Okay, in all fairness, I'm clearly still mid-moment.
I wonder(ed) if I'm making a terrible mistake. Suddenly, we both work.
All. The. Fucking. Time. In fact, we have meetings this morning and tomorrow, and I have a couple of weeks to finish something I thought was done but it isn't. Not even fucking close.
I finally let the big guy start using the stove when I'm not home 'cause, well, they gotta eat. And if I'm home three hours after dinner-time, it hardly seems right to make them live out of the microwave. And yes, I was cooking on a wood stove when I was younger than him, so mr. responsible can handle the electric oven.
I was a the park yesterday with the little guy, and yes, it was by default because I was working and had to wait for the printer, but...There was apparently a birthday party going on with lots of people. People like the people I tend to interact with these days are likely very uncomfortable around. The tattoos, the beards, the huge gruff guys squeezing onto tiny slides with their little kids whom they have too many of, and gods only know what they do to put food on the table, but everybody knows better than to ask because we know that kids need to be fed...And it reminded me of home. I miss it. Gods do I miss it.
They might be some unsavory fucked up people, but they know who they are, and they aren't afraid of the world knowing. Somehow that is so often more appealing to me than the suits and ties, the power plays, the hidden agendas where everybody want people to see what they project and nobody wants to be known for what they really are under all of the glitter...
Yes, there's the possibility of going back in one of two ways--wondering how on earth we'll feed our kids, or knowing that we won't have to worry about it at all. Either way, it's not going to be anytime soon.
I had a minor break related to my project the other night...Shared it with the whole team too. Yea...On the bright side, it prompted their realization that this is hard on our family, us both working these insane hours all the time...On the not-so-bright side, I much prefer to keep those moments private. Or at least somewhat anonymous. Lol.
I'm having a moment this morning. A long moment. I wonder if I'm making a terrible mistake and doing an awful disservice to my children. The little guys has been asking me to volunteer for his field day, and I can't...I can't commit knowing that by Monday my Friday might be full and there's a chance that I won't walk back in the door until 9:00 at night.
At the same time...If we don't make this work, we'll have done our children a terrible disservice and they will have to live through us starting from scratch, much as we did before they were born.
So yea...I'm having a moment...
I wonder(ed) if I'm making a terrible mistake. Suddenly, we both work.
All. The. Fucking. Time. In fact, we have meetings this morning and tomorrow, and I have a couple of weeks to finish something I thought was done but it isn't. Not even fucking close.
I finally let the big guy start using the stove when I'm not home 'cause, well, they gotta eat. And if I'm home three hours after dinner-time, it hardly seems right to make them live out of the microwave. And yes, I was cooking on a wood stove when I was younger than him, so mr. responsible can handle the electric oven.
I was a the park yesterday with the little guy, and yes, it was by default because I was working and had to wait for the printer, but...There was apparently a birthday party going on with lots of people. People like the people I tend to interact with these days are likely very uncomfortable around. The tattoos, the beards, the huge gruff guys squeezing onto tiny slides with their little kids whom they have too many of, and gods only know what they do to put food on the table, but everybody knows better than to ask because we know that kids need to be fed...And it reminded me of home. I miss it. Gods do I miss it.
They might be some unsavory fucked up people, but they know who they are, and they aren't afraid of the world knowing. Somehow that is so often more appealing to me than the suits and ties, the power plays, the hidden agendas where everybody want people to see what they project and nobody wants to be known for what they really are under all of the glitter...
Yes, there's the possibility of going back in one of two ways--wondering how on earth we'll feed our kids, or knowing that we won't have to worry about it at all. Either way, it's not going to be anytime soon.
I had a minor break related to my project the other night...Shared it with the whole team too. Yea...On the bright side, it prompted their realization that this is hard on our family, us both working these insane hours all the time...On the not-so-bright side, I much prefer to keep those moments private. Or at least somewhat anonymous. Lol.
I'm having a moment this morning. A long moment. I wonder if I'm making a terrible mistake and doing an awful disservice to my children. The little guys has been asking me to volunteer for his field day, and I can't...I can't commit knowing that by Monday my Friday might be full and there's a chance that I won't walk back in the door until 9:00 at night.
At the same time...If we don't make this work, we'll have done our children a terrible disservice and they will have to live through us starting from scratch, much as we did before they were born.
So yea...I'm having a moment...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)