I'm particularly fond of the lump in the leg.
31 October 2005
A New One
Just a quick one to save this place where disturbing dolls come from.
I'm particularly fond of the lump in the leg.
I'm particularly fond of the lump in the leg.
Egoiste
Do blogs ever disappear? When people stop writing do they just live on and on in cyber space if not deleted? Will our era be remembered as one of huge self indulgence and egotism? Probably.
I keep a blog and I keep a handwritten journal. To be fair, the blog has been a thing of this year and the journal I have kept for ages. The earliest entry I have is from when I think I was six. There have been years with no writing. Or a year with very little writing. This year for example, has been particularly sexual, though to be fair I've not had sex more this year than last year so far (though I have messed about a good deal more), but still, it's not a true reflection of actual events, more like a distorted snapshot.
I like having my journals because I can read back over them and realize how far I've come from a past point. Sometimes it amazes me the vehemence and passion with which I wrote about something that I could care less about now. But even though thoughts and opinions and circumstance change, I would never delete, alter, edit, or throw away something that I'd written before. Because whatever it was it was, even if it's no longer relevant.
Why am I writing about such things? Because Mr.Ball has finally found this blog (with some minor help after begging for a clue *smirk*). And because it occurred to me last night, when I knew he would look, and likely find the blog, and this morning, when I had time to kill, if I should go back and change or edit any posts. But I decided to leave everything as it was.
My blog is personal and indulgent to my thoughts and feelings. I'm sure if one of the other people I have talked about were to describe an event or moment that I have described, they would do so very differently. Because we all view reality from a singular perspective, our own. In this sense, one could get quite philosophical and argue that there is no such thing as 'reality' because the way that each individual perceives it is colored by their own thoughts and experiences. My writings are my view at any given time. I could be wrong or misguided or misinformed, but still it's simply what I thought or felt at a given moment. Even though it could change, why would I change the record of what it was?
I suppose the unfortunate part is that with Mr.Ball reading I will be less likely to discuss things like how he looked slightly different from how I remember him from last time, or how we had that strange moment of goodbye and the not-naughty but not-chaste kissing thing. Or maybe I will. It is MY blog after all.
I keep a blog and I keep a handwritten journal. To be fair, the blog has been a thing of this year and the journal I have kept for ages. The earliest entry I have is from when I think I was six. There have been years with no writing. Or a year with very little writing. This year for example, has been particularly sexual, though to be fair I've not had sex more this year than last year so far (though I have messed about a good deal more), but still, it's not a true reflection of actual events, more like a distorted snapshot.
I like having my journals because I can read back over them and realize how far I've come from a past point. Sometimes it amazes me the vehemence and passion with which I wrote about something that I could care less about now. But even though thoughts and opinions and circumstance change, I would never delete, alter, edit, or throw away something that I'd written before. Because whatever it was it was, even if it's no longer relevant.
Why am I writing about such things? Because Mr.Ball has finally found this blog (with some minor help after begging for a clue *smirk*). And because it occurred to me last night, when I knew he would look, and likely find the blog, and this morning, when I had time to kill, if I should go back and change or edit any posts. But I decided to leave everything as it was.
My blog is personal and indulgent to my thoughts and feelings. I'm sure if one of the other people I have talked about were to describe an event or moment that I have described, they would do so very differently. Because we all view reality from a singular perspective, our own. In this sense, one could get quite philosophical and argue that there is no such thing as 'reality' because the way that each individual perceives it is colored by their own thoughts and experiences. My writings are my view at any given time. I could be wrong or misguided or misinformed, but still it's simply what I thought or felt at a given moment. Even though it could change, why would I change the record of what it was?
I suppose the unfortunate part is that with Mr.Ball reading I will be less likely to discuss things like how he looked slightly different from how I remember him from last time, or how we had that strange moment of goodbye and the not-naughty but not-chaste kissing thing. Or maybe I will. It is MY blog after all.
Sweet N Low
I believe I am suffering from the sensation of 'almost perfect but not quite'. Or perhaps it is everything is just falling short of the mark. I wish I could know if my period was on the way or not, because I would be more than happy to attribute my overall malaise to hormonal fluctuations, but of course, I have no idea when that ever arrives, and so my mood is simply a mystery.
S is very mad at me right now and this upsets me. She's angry because she wants to come visit which I think is great, but the one weekend she picked to want to come, is one of two that I plan to be in New York to take my exams. I've always said 'early December' and so when she said 'first weekend in December', I thought, well, perhaps I can go the week before or after. But having looked at the calendar, I really can't. So I emailed her as soon as I figured it out and she sent me back a clipped one line and I know she's mad, but really, it's not my fault. But I feel upset about it nonetheless. It's particularly bad because this is the second time this has happened, as at the beginning of the year she wanted to schedule a trip and decided that my scheduling of my trip to the states was the only time she could go on a trip. If I didn't know any better, I'd suggest she was exhibiting similar symptoms to my mother- an actual desire to be miserable and feel put upon, but I'm not sure that's the case.
Mr.Aloof is missing. This annoys me. He'll reappear and it will all be well, but two weeks on I have the sensation of missing him. And I'm not liking that at all, not one bit.
And surprisingly enough I met Mr.Ball out for drinks last night. Mr.Ball who is intent on finding this weblog, so perhaps the less I say about him the better. No, that was cool. We'd not met face to face since the first time we met ever, though we've talked copious amounts in between sporadically. However, that was still seven months ago, so, it was interesting to see him again. And a fun evening that I would have otherwise spent studying.
Oh I'm so in the shit for not studying. I need to book my exams this week and my flight. I think I've let it go a bit late, what else is new in my sad life?
And now it's Monday and it's back to work, a place that is giving me minor headaches on a regular basis now that things are unsettled and strange. I hate that feeling. I want it to be the weekend again.
And a new flatmate moves in this week, D. D is another American, and will be my first male flatmate. He seems cool so far though, so we'll see how it goes. I'm sure I'll have stories to tell.
Happy Monday all.
S is very mad at me right now and this upsets me. She's angry because she wants to come visit which I think is great, but the one weekend she picked to want to come, is one of two that I plan to be in New York to take my exams. I've always said 'early December' and so when she said 'first weekend in December', I thought, well, perhaps I can go the week before or after. But having looked at the calendar, I really can't. So I emailed her as soon as I figured it out and she sent me back a clipped one line and I know she's mad, but really, it's not my fault. But I feel upset about it nonetheless. It's particularly bad because this is the second time this has happened, as at the beginning of the year she wanted to schedule a trip and decided that my scheduling of my trip to the states was the only time she could go on a trip. If I didn't know any better, I'd suggest she was exhibiting similar symptoms to my mother- an actual desire to be miserable and feel put upon, but I'm not sure that's the case.
Mr.Aloof is missing. This annoys me. He'll reappear and it will all be well, but two weeks on I have the sensation of missing him. And I'm not liking that at all, not one bit.
And surprisingly enough I met Mr.Ball out for drinks last night. Mr.Ball who is intent on finding this weblog, so perhaps the less I say about him the better. No, that was cool. We'd not met face to face since the first time we met ever, though we've talked copious amounts in between sporadically. However, that was still seven months ago, so, it was interesting to see him again. And a fun evening that I would have otherwise spent studying.
Oh I'm so in the shit for not studying. I need to book my exams this week and my flight. I think I've let it go a bit late, what else is new in my sad life?
And now it's Monday and it's back to work, a place that is giving me minor headaches on a regular basis now that things are unsettled and strange. I hate that feeling. I want it to be the weekend again.
And a new flatmate moves in this week, D. D is another American, and will be my first male flatmate. He seems cool so far though, so we'll see how it goes. I'm sure I'll have stories to tell.
Happy Monday all.
29 October 2005
Bus Rant
Seeing as how my job in life is all about the revitalization and overall design of cities and urban places, it is important to start this blog with the correct reference points. I love cities and urban living. A key element to any successful and sustainable urban environment is absolutely a well established means of public transportation.
London has a very good system of public transportation generally. The tube is pretty good, though overpriced. And it doesn't run twenty-four hours a day which is a bit annoying, especially if you pair that with the overpriced aspect. But the bus service is excellent, and the night buses work alright. The overland trains aren't great, but they get the job done eventually. And then there are things like the DLR which because it generally serves upper and middle class business folk, is always running smoothly.
Where I live in Hackney, there is no tube. A fact I found daunting when I first moved here, but have since grown to not only not care about, but actually appreciate. Because I have eight bus lines that all stop just around the corner from my house. One of the most popular buses that goes past my house is the 38. The 38 was, up until yesterday, one of the routes that still used the old routemaster buses. But alas, it is no more, and has been replaced instead with the infamous bendy-bus.
Now I do understand some of the complaints about the routemaster bus, the main one being that they just aren't safe. And a close second being that they are not handicap or pram accessible. And I can agree with both of these points.
However, London's decision to use bendy-buses is ludicrous. They are simply too large for the small scale city that London is. The fact that there are no wires or overhead projections that prohibit things like the double-decker buses is a benefit to the city. And the fact of the matter is, they simply take up a smaller footprint than a massive double car bus.
The only cities I've seen successfully use the double long bus were American cities with long straight streets with multiple lanes. The traffic on the main road around the corner from me has been unbelievable all day and I know why that is, it's because of the stupid new buses.
Now some people say, 'Yes, but with three doors, you can fit all these prams and things on now where you couldn't before." And while that's true, the fact is you couldn't fit ANY on the old bus, so even a double decker would be a clear improvement over the routemaster, and a bendy-bus is not the only solution.
The real fact of the matter is that the bendy-buses are cheaper to run and the decision is really just a financial one. But it's a shame for the city. I know that the city will adapt around the new buses, and in time, it will ease up on the current congestion as the drivers get used to handling them and the other vehicles on the road get used to them as well. But is it really worth it? A bendy-bus does not represent the character of London. It's really a shame.
Becomes
London has a very good system of public transportation generally. The tube is pretty good, though overpriced. And it doesn't run twenty-four hours a day which is a bit annoying, especially if you pair that with the overpriced aspect. But the bus service is excellent, and the night buses work alright. The overland trains aren't great, but they get the job done eventually. And then there are things like the DLR which because it generally serves upper and middle class business folk, is always running smoothly.
Where I live in Hackney, there is no tube. A fact I found daunting when I first moved here, but have since grown to not only not care about, but actually appreciate. Because I have eight bus lines that all stop just around the corner from my house. One of the most popular buses that goes past my house is the 38. The 38 was, up until yesterday, one of the routes that still used the old routemaster buses. But alas, it is no more, and has been replaced instead with the infamous bendy-bus.
Now I do understand some of the complaints about the routemaster bus, the main one being that they just aren't safe. And a close second being that they are not handicap or pram accessible. And I can agree with both of these points.
However, London's decision to use bendy-buses is ludicrous. They are simply too large for the small scale city that London is. The fact that there are no wires or overhead projections that prohibit things like the double-decker buses is a benefit to the city. And the fact of the matter is, they simply take up a smaller footprint than a massive double car bus.
The only cities I've seen successfully use the double long bus were American cities with long straight streets with multiple lanes. The traffic on the main road around the corner from me has been unbelievable all day and I know why that is, it's because of the stupid new buses.
Now some people say, 'Yes, but with three doors, you can fit all these prams and things on now where you couldn't before." And while that's true, the fact is you couldn't fit ANY on the old bus, so even a double decker would be a clear improvement over the routemaster, and a bendy-bus is not the only solution.
The real fact of the matter is that the bendy-buses are cheaper to run and the decision is really just a financial one. But it's a shame for the city. I know that the city will adapt around the new buses, and in time, it will ease up on the current congestion as the drivers get used to handling them and the other vehicles on the road get used to them as well. But is it really worth it? A bendy-bus does not represent the character of London. It's really a shame.
Becomes
28 October 2005
Roll On Weekend!
Not quite 2pm but I'm leaving work early today to finally go see my GP about this stupid cough. The weekend is almost upon us.
No flatmate replacement yet. I placed a new advertisement yesterday though, so hopefully something will come from that, I've had two calls this morning and they should be coming by tomorrow, so we'll see.
No word from Mr.Aloof who I presume is still in Japan or in transit. I only knew the day he left and he said 'back in a week'. So soon, I hope. I find I'm missing him a bit. Dangerous, I know.
Studying for my exams is going alright, though I'm supposed to switch exams to study for this weekend. I'm not quite finished with the first exam, so this will mean double studying. I've changed my mind about which exam to take with the one I've studied for so far, but now that I've made up my mind, I need to book them, and then book my flights to New York. How tedious.
But it will be good to go back to New York. I need new clothes and shopping is so much cheaper there. Though I'd like to set up a UK credit card before I travel, otherwise I have the annoyance of needing to send money home to my American account to cover my US credit cards. Still, a minor irritation. You'd think that since I own a flat here and have a bank account and am even a professional that I should be able to get a credit card in this country, however, you'd be wrong so far.
T and I went to see Corpse Bride this week which was cool. And we ate at Yo! Sushi which was excellent as well. I had sushi last weekend with S and his friends. Twice in one week, I feel spoiled! Though once upon a time, seven times a week was more normal for me. *sigh*
This weekend I need to clean my flat which I've put off the past couple weekends and study. And maybe purchase an umbrella. I kind of want to go here just because it seems cool, though it's probably more than I want to spend on an umbrella. Still, I've yet to get a new umbrella and though I've not gotten soaked yet, I do know that I'm tempting fate and it needs to be sorted immediately.
Anyway, that's all the news that's fit to print. Not too much exciting going on. It's okay to have calm periods sometimes.
No flatmate replacement yet. I placed a new advertisement yesterday though, so hopefully something will come from that, I've had two calls this morning and they should be coming by tomorrow, so we'll see.
No word from Mr.Aloof who I presume is still in Japan or in transit. I only knew the day he left and he said 'back in a week'. So soon, I hope. I find I'm missing him a bit. Dangerous, I know.
Studying for my exams is going alright, though I'm supposed to switch exams to study for this weekend. I'm not quite finished with the first exam, so this will mean double studying. I've changed my mind about which exam to take with the one I've studied for so far, but now that I've made up my mind, I need to book them, and then book my flights to New York. How tedious.
But it will be good to go back to New York. I need new clothes and shopping is so much cheaper there. Though I'd like to set up a UK credit card before I travel, otherwise I have the annoyance of needing to send money home to my American account to cover my US credit cards. Still, a minor irritation. You'd think that since I own a flat here and have a bank account and am even a professional that I should be able to get a credit card in this country, however, you'd be wrong so far.
T and I went to see Corpse Bride this week which was cool. And we ate at Yo! Sushi which was excellent as well. I had sushi last weekend with S and his friends. Twice in one week, I feel spoiled! Though once upon a time, seven times a week was more normal for me. *sigh*
This weekend I need to clean my flat which I've put off the past couple weekends and study. And maybe purchase an umbrella. I kind of want to go here just because it seems cool, though it's probably more than I want to spend on an umbrella. Still, I've yet to get a new umbrella and though I've not gotten soaked yet, I do know that I'm tempting fate and it needs to be sorted immediately.
Anyway, that's all the news that's fit to print. Not too much exciting going on. It's okay to have calm periods sometimes.
26 October 2005
Your Cheating Heart
Once again a post on another blog has led me to my own thoughts on the matter that I think are better put here.
When I was maybe fourteen or fifteen, my father, who was always full of such therapist-inducing words of wisdom, sat me down and said, "You should never get married because men cannot be faithful to one woman. Marriage as a concept will never work and you should just save yourself the trouble by understanding this now."
They say that we emulate the behavior of our parents. If this is the case, then I have a poor future ahead of me- my mother was another man's mistress for seven years and otherwise didn't date and my father has always had multiple girlfriends at the same time. He has a wife now, and one main girlfriend- at whose home he stays on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and some of the other women still call him sometimes.
For that matter, my step-mother also has other boyfriends, though I'm somewhat of the opinion that if my father wasn't screwing around, she'd cut it out as well. But who knows. That's really just speculation.
I haven't been in enough relationships to cheat on anyone. Though I think I tend to fall into the monogamous category, I'm not sure either. I've now been casually seeing Mr.Aloof for eight months. But we've never had a discussion about monogamy. I'm not seeing anyone else, though I did toy with screwing an ex when Mr.Aloof was on one of his many week disappearing acts once. But it's since occurred to me that I didn't really want to screw my ex, I was just frustrated by Mr.Aloof's absence.
My old flatmate C kept asking if Mr.Aloof was my boyfriend to which I resoundingly answered "No."
"But you aren't seeing anyone else", she would say, "and you aren't actively looking for anyone else." and I would agree with her. "So what if he was seeing someone else? Wouldn't you be upset?"
And I have given that some thought. In general, the answer is no. We have never said we are exclusive to one another, and there is a lot of time in between when we see each other, normally. If he was seeing someone else, well, it doesn't seem to impact or change the relationship we have. I suppose I would be upset if I thought that by spreading himself too thin this was part of the reason I didn't see him that often, but I don't believe that's the case. If pressed, I'd have to say that I don't actually think he's seeing anyone else, but I suppose I could be wrong, and the fact is, if I am wrong, I don't actually think it bothers me that much.
My first ever boyfriend cheated on me. But we had a long distance relationship, and it was my first love. It doesn't even blip on the radar now except that I was just about to type 'and no one has cheated on me' when I realized that wasn't actually true.
Many of my close friends have cheated on their partners, both male and female alike, both hetero and homo sexual. Sometimes they have been found out and other times not. Sometimes it was a one-off occurrence, and sometimes it was habitual. Unfortunately, it hasn't done much to change my overall assumptions about human nature introduced so long ago by my father, except my father was being rather sexist by restricting his comments to men.
I don't actually believe that all people cheat, and often I think people who cheat are expressing some other emotion or feeling that they are not dealing with otherwise. But for those who just do it because they want to, not meaning to harm their partner, but not willing to pass up the thrill of the unknown or an opportunity, I suppose what it comes down to, is 'is your partner on board with what you're doing'. And in this respect, I perhaps am more lenient and open minded about such things. Polyamory, polyfidelity, and swinging are all fine by me, as long as one is honest with one's partners.
I guess it can be hard for other people to understand, but when it works well, it really does seem to work. And you don't get all the problems associated with cheating which inherently implies dishonesty by it's definition.
Of course, it takes people a while to figure all these things out for themselves. To understand their motivations, to figure out what it is they really want- and then have the integrity and motivation to act on those realizations. To be honest, a lot of people never determine either, and even those that do often don't find the energy to act on it. Though I think society would be a lot better off if everyone did.
When I was maybe fourteen or fifteen, my father, who was always full of such therapist-inducing words of wisdom, sat me down and said, "You should never get married because men cannot be faithful to one woman. Marriage as a concept will never work and you should just save yourself the trouble by understanding this now."
They say that we emulate the behavior of our parents. If this is the case, then I have a poor future ahead of me- my mother was another man's mistress for seven years and otherwise didn't date and my father has always had multiple girlfriends at the same time. He has a wife now, and one main girlfriend- at whose home he stays on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and some of the other women still call him sometimes.
For that matter, my step-mother also has other boyfriends, though I'm somewhat of the opinion that if my father wasn't screwing around, she'd cut it out as well. But who knows. That's really just speculation.
I haven't been in enough relationships to cheat on anyone. Though I think I tend to fall into the monogamous category, I'm not sure either. I've now been casually seeing Mr.Aloof for eight months. But we've never had a discussion about monogamy. I'm not seeing anyone else, though I did toy with screwing an ex when Mr.Aloof was on one of his many week disappearing acts once. But it's since occurred to me that I didn't really want to screw my ex, I was just frustrated by Mr.Aloof's absence.
My old flatmate C kept asking if Mr.Aloof was my boyfriend to which I resoundingly answered "No."
"But you aren't seeing anyone else", she would say, "and you aren't actively looking for anyone else." and I would agree with her. "So what if he was seeing someone else? Wouldn't you be upset?"
And I have given that some thought. In general, the answer is no. We have never said we are exclusive to one another, and there is a lot of time in between when we see each other, normally. If he was seeing someone else, well, it doesn't seem to impact or change the relationship we have. I suppose I would be upset if I thought that by spreading himself too thin this was part of the reason I didn't see him that often, but I don't believe that's the case. If pressed, I'd have to say that I don't actually think he's seeing anyone else, but I suppose I could be wrong, and the fact is, if I am wrong, I don't actually think it bothers me that much.
My first ever boyfriend cheated on me. But we had a long distance relationship, and it was my first love. It doesn't even blip on the radar now except that I was just about to type 'and no one has cheated on me' when I realized that wasn't actually true.
Many of my close friends have cheated on their partners, both male and female alike, both hetero and homo sexual. Sometimes they have been found out and other times not. Sometimes it was a one-off occurrence, and sometimes it was habitual. Unfortunately, it hasn't done much to change my overall assumptions about human nature introduced so long ago by my father, except my father was being rather sexist by restricting his comments to men.
I don't actually believe that all people cheat, and often I think people who cheat are expressing some other emotion or feeling that they are not dealing with otherwise. But for those who just do it because they want to, not meaning to harm their partner, but not willing to pass up the thrill of the unknown or an opportunity, I suppose what it comes down to, is 'is your partner on board with what you're doing'. And in this respect, I perhaps am more lenient and open minded about such things. Polyamory, polyfidelity, and swinging are all fine by me, as long as one is honest with one's partners.
I guess it can be hard for other people to understand, but when it works well, it really does seem to work. And you don't get all the problems associated with cheating which inherently implies dishonesty by it's definition.
Of course, it takes people a while to figure all these things out for themselves. To understand their motivations, to figure out what it is they really want- and then have the integrity and motivation to act on those realizations. To be honest, a lot of people never determine either, and even those that do often don't find the energy to act on it. Though I think society would be a lot better off if everyone did.
24 October 2005
Coughy McCoughington
I think the title says it all really.
Ever since my horrible flu, when I couldn't manage to get completely well, I was left with a cough. Although I have improved to the point of general wellness, the cough has continued to progress into a hacking, clacking nightmare.
The truth is, it is not new, this 'horrible cough that won't go away'. The first time I remember getting such a cough I lived in Baltimore. Maybe it was my last year there. And then I know I got it again, maybe twice in St. Louis. And I've gotten it at least two other times in London. I think it's my sinuses. And the cough is caused by some sort of drip irritation.
And it's irritating all right.
My plan is to go to my GP this week. But I'm reluctant to believe that they are going to be helpful in the slightest. I may have to suffer through, and cause suffering to everyone around me.
I hate this miserable cough. It makes me miserable to not be able to talk or laugh or breath with any degree of comfort. And it makes me self conscious which always makes me feel edgy and stressed. And in all honesty, I already have enough stress in my life at the moment. Stupid fucking cough.
Ever since my horrible flu, when I couldn't manage to get completely well, I was left with a cough. Although I have improved to the point of general wellness, the cough has continued to progress into a hacking, clacking nightmare.
The truth is, it is not new, this 'horrible cough that won't go away'. The first time I remember getting such a cough I lived in Baltimore. Maybe it was my last year there. And then I know I got it again, maybe twice in St. Louis. And I've gotten it at least two other times in London. I think it's my sinuses. And the cough is caused by some sort of drip irritation.
And it's irritating all right.
My plan is to go to my GP this week. But I'm reluctant to believe that they are going to be helpful in the slightest. I may have to suffer through, and cause suffering to everyone around me.
I hate this miserable cough. It makes me miserable to not be able to talk or laugh or breath with any degree of comfort. And it makes me self conscious which always makes me feel edgy and stressed. And in all honesty, I already have enough stress in my life at the moment. Stupid fucking cough.
22 October 2005
Tomato Face
T came over tonight so we could watch some Alias and then this show Afterlife. I made a nice dinner of some rainbow trout and some zucchinis and onion and some rice. I was happy about how the fish came out, seeing as how I wasn't entirely sure if I was cooking it correctly. And of course, I made some crepes for dessert. I have crepe batter left, I see crepes in my future. Yum.
When T came over, she asked me what the splooge was on my door. A couple of days ago, some stupid kids I'm sure took some cherry tomatoes that had been growing very nicely in a pot outside my neighbors door and smashed two of them on my door, creating a line of seeds and tomato innards that dripped down onto my mail slot.
I explained this to T, but she was freaking out about it for some reason and I didn't get it. "Come outside and look at it from this angle!", she exclaimed staring at the door. So I came out. And it was completely freaky, man. Of course I had to grab my camera and document the anomaly. I'm sure I'm going to have trouble sleeping now.
Can you see it? Well? Can you?!?
When T came over, she asked me what the splooge was on my door. A couple of days ago, some stupid kids I'm sure took some cherry tomatoes that had been growing very nicely in a pot outside my neighbors door and smashed two of them on my door, creating a line of seeds and tomato innards that dripped down onto my mail slot.
I explained this to T, but she was freaking out about it for some reason and I didn't get it. "Come outside and look at it from this angle!", she exclaimed staring at the door. So I came out. And it was completely freaky, man. Of course I had to grab my camera and document the anomaly. I'm sure I'm going to have trouble sleeping now.
Can you see it? Well? Can you?!?
21 October 2005
Getting Wet
I bet you thought this was going to be another dirty post. Haha, fooled you. It's not.
I am sitting in my flat waiting for the rain to let up so that I can go to work. Why? Because two days ago when it was raining like a motherfucker and I was out and about in it, I destroyed my umbrella.
I destroyed it so completely that I dropped it into the nearest trash receptacle I could find. Two days ago. Yesterday it was not a rainy day. I had time at lunch, I had time after work. I could have gone and bought a new umbrella. Did I? No, I did not.
Now it's raining again. Bucket-loads. And I, I am about to get wet.
Two and a half years in this country and I've clearly not learned my lesson. I suppose it serves me right.
I am sitting in my flat waiting for the rain to let up so that I can go to work. Why? Because two days ago when it was raining like a motherfucker and I was out and about in it, I destroyed my umbrella.
I destroyed it so completely that I dropped it into the nearest trash receptacle I could find. Two days ago. Yesterday it was not a rainy day. I had time at lunch, I had time after work. I could have gone and bought a new umbrella. Did I? No, I did not.
Now it's raining again. Bucket-loads. And I, I am about to get wet.
Two and a half years in this country and I've clearly not learned my lesson. I suppose it serves me right.
20 October 2005
Power Exchange
The concept has been on my mind these past couple days. Well, since my last visit south to see Mr.Aloof, really. He sent me an email today saying he was off to Japan tomorrow. He'll be back in a week I guess, so I'll see him then. Always aloof that one.
And I'm trying not to think about work too much because it just makes me too angry. I find I'm just getting downright moody at work, which isn't really going to help my case as things progress.
But back to the concept of power exchange which is really on my mind. I know that I say that my pornalong posts are naughty, and they are really, as each of my described evenings has been consistently punctuated by regular and continuous sexual content. But is power exchange necessarily sexual?
It's true that it provides a euphoric kick, and that I choose to use that generated energy in a sexual fashion, but it's not a requirement. Power exchange to me is similar to playing a board game or a video game or cooking a challenging meal. It's an activity that I enjoy. That it currently leads to sex or sexual situations is certainly a bonus, because sex is a hell of a lot of fun too. But power exchange can be separate from sex.
What has brought this all to mind is in particular the part of my past evening that involved the bowl of water and bowl of chilli. I was almost reluctant to write about it, because I knew that in it's description most people I know would wrinkle their noses and say, "I would not do that." with the implied suggestion that they didn't understand why the hell I would do it either.
And it's a difficult question to answer. It is certainly not as if while it was happening I was jumping up and down in my head thinking "Goody, goody.". It's also not like I was dripping wet thinking "Oh yeah, this makes me want you to fuck me." In fact I felt self-conscious, embarrassed, and reluctant. But in addition to those feelings, there was the delicious feeling of the power exchange. The knowledge that even if it was not something I wanted, it was something he wanted. And that I could choose to give to him what he wanted of me, which in all honesty was not going to hurt me in any way except perhaps in my pride, or I could have denied him and he would have taken it from me anyway, or punished me by putting me aside for a time until I was ready to comply.
To choose to submit to someone is a rather powerful position in itself. As described, I certainly pushed some limits and was not completely submissive or compliant, but then in a way that made it all the more powerful both to me, and I imagine to him, when I actively chose to submit. And I do have as much of a compulsion within me to 'give' to my partner at least as much if not more than I have the compulsion to fight that impulse and force them to take it from me. Either way I know I will submit eventually. And the rush that I get from that, the sort of release of responsibility, of worry, of control- is fantastic. And it's not necessarily sexual, though the addition of sexual energy into that mix is simply unspeakable.
Of course in saying all this, I should also point out that at any point during my interactions with Mr.Aloof there is always an available safety measure which would stop our interactions immediately if I were to ever truly feel that he was pushing me beyond something I felt I could do or wanted to do.
Without belittling those who I know take such activities far more seriously, it's like the best game ever. Full of intense emotion, highs and lows. Like an amusement park ride. It's thrilling and exhilarating and...I love it. Maybe not all of the individual details. Sometimes they confuse me and weird me out just as much as anyone else. But it works somehow. Power exchange. It's a trip.
And I'm trying not to think about work too much because it just makes me too angry. I find I'm just getting downright moody at work, which isn't really going to help my case as things progress.
But back to the concept of power exchange which is really on my mind. I know that I say that my pornalong posts are naughty, and they are really, as each of my described evenings has been consistently punctuated by regular and continuous sexual content. But is power exchange necessarily sexual?
It's true that it provides a euphoric kick, and that I choose to use that generated energy in a sexual fashion, but it's not a requirement. Power exchange to me is similar to playing a board game or a video game or cooking a challenging meal. It's an activity that I enjoy. That it currently leads to sex or sexual situations is certainly a bonus, because sex is a hell of a lot of fun too. But power exchange can be separate from sex.
What has brought this all to mind is in particular the part of my past evening that involved the bowl of water and bowl of chilli. I was almost reluctant to write about it, because I knew that in it's description most people I know would wrinkle their noses and say, "I would not do that." with the implied suggestion that they didn't understand why the hell I would do it either.
And it's a difficult question to answer. It is certainly not as if while it was happening I was jumping up and down in my head thinking "Goody, goody.". It's also not like I was dripping wet thinking "Oh yeah, this makes me want you to fuck me." In fact I felt self-conscious, embarrassed, and reluctant. But in addition to those feelings, there was the delicious feeling of the power exchange. The knowledge that even if it was not something I wanted, it was something he wanted. And that I could choose to give to him what he wanted of me, which in all honesty was not going to hurt me in any way except perhaps in my pride, or I could have denied him and he would have taken it from me anyway, or punished me by putting me aside for a time until I was ready to comply.
To choose to submit to someone is a rather powerful position in itself. As described, I certainly pushed some limits and was not completely submissive or compliant, but then in a way that made it all the more powerful both to me, and I imagine to him, when I actively chose to submit. And I do have as much of a compulsion within me to 'give' to my partner at least as much if not more than I have the compulsion to fight that impulse and force them to take it from me. Either way I know I will submit eventually. And the rush that I get from that, the sort of release of responsibility, of worry, of control- is fantastic. And it's not necessarily sexual, though the addition of sexual energy into that mix is simply unspeakable.
Of course in saying all this, I should also point out that at any point during my interactions with Mr.Aloof there is always an available safety measure which would stop our interactions immediately if I were to ever truly feel that he was pushing me beyond something I felt I could do or wanted to do.
Without belittling those who I know take such activities far more seriously, it's like the best game ever. Full of intense emotion, highs and lows. Like an amusement park ride. It's thrilling and exhilarating and...I love it. Maybe not all of the individual details. Sometimes they confuse me and weird me out just as much as anyone else. But it works somehow. Power exchange. It's a trip.
19 October 2005
Crepes
I keep forgetting to put up the picture of the great crepe experiment. I recently bought some bananas. I see more crepes in my future..... mmmmmm
18 October 2005
Indignities
I ended up staying later at work yesterday than I had wanted to. Knowing I was to go meet Mr.Aloof, I had wanted to be leaving as soon as possible to make the hour-long journey south. But I was still at the office at half past six, and needed to go home yet, shower, pack a bag, then turn around and head back.
I managed to get to his at twenty to nine.
I banged on the door but he didn't come down so I ended up texting him to come and let me in. Eventually he came down and opened the door. We went to the kitchen and chatted for a bit. He put the kettle on like a good British person and asked if I wanted some tea.
"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know!", I said coming behind him and hugging him and resting my head between his shoulder blades.
"Oh fuck," he said, "you're complex." resting his arms over mine.
So we ended up just chatting on the sofa in the kitchen, I didn't have tea. Then, after a bit he grabbed my hand and pulled me up and to the elevator. Though we stood close, there was minimal touching and every time I leaned up to kiss him he pulled back slightly. The doors opened and he pulled me out to the vestibule by the toilets then turned and left. There were no clothes to change into, so I made use of the toilet and then waited for a bit. He didn't appear to be coming back so I started poking around but the door to the main floor was locked. So I went back to the stairwell and listened. There was strange noise coming from the top floor, so I decided to go up. The loft was candle lit but Mr.Aloof was not in it. I kept thinking he was hiding and was going to scare me, but he truly wasn't there. The noise ended up coming from a dvd that was playing on a small portable player by the bed. It was a Japanese shibari dvd. I settled onto the floor/edge of the bed to watch it, seeing as how the sofa was too far away to look at the little screen.
Mr.Aloof returned, changed, and while I noted him, I decided to ignore him, instead, continuing to watch the dvd, which was, pretty interesting really. He paced about, walked over to me, stroked my hair for a bit, then left again. After some minutes he returned, still pacing, and I still ignored him, of course doing so was putting me in some jeopardy so I was also being fairly alert. He again came close to me, and then walked away, picking up a bundle of items that had been on the far sofa, he threw them at me as he left again. It was my green leather and the yukata.
Figuring I'd pushed the line a bit already I set about getting changed while still watching the dvd. I had fastened the ankle cuffs when he returned and sat on the chair by the couch. I still didn't look at him, though I was aware of him in the corner of my eye. I fastened the wrist cuffs and then I pulled my hair back, knotting it into a temporary bun so I could fasten the collar, which was again being a bit pushy since I said just a couple days before I couldn't do it on my own. When I was finished, he walked over, grabbed one of the metal rings set into the collar and pulled me up.
Pulling one of my hands behind me, he threaded rope around one of the cuff rings, then, pulling my other arm behind me, attached it as well. With my hands bound behind me, he walked around to face me.
"What are you doing here K?", he asked.
"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by." Dig, dig, dig the hole.
"I told you I was working and I didn't want to be disturbed.", he said after a pause.
"Don't care." I said. I probably would have liked to say something longer, but that was all I could manage. It's hard to dig holes sometimes.
"Well I care", he said, "and I have things to do, and you need to learn to do as your told. Why did you ignore the clothes left for you? Did you not see them? Too entranced by the video? Or were you ignoring them? It doesn't matter, you have not done what was expected of you, and you need to learn." While saying this he walked behind me again, taking the length of rope, passing it over my shoulder and then through one of the rings in the collar. Without saying much more he pulled me forward, towards the elevator. We went down to the ground floor and he brought me to the cage. It was in the same place as last time, though a bit darker, as it was only lit by three candles this time.
I pulled back a bit, I wasn't sure how long I'd be put there for. He pulled me forward more roughly and then grabbing me by the shoulders positioned me at the door, with him standing behind me. "Kneel.", he said.
It was hard with my hands behind me but I managed to get in and he firmly closed the door behind me. There had been no nudity, no touching, no kissing, no caresses and here I was locked in the cage for an indeterminate amount of time. "I'll be back when I've finished some things and you can think about learning to do what you're told.", he said, and with that, he walked off. Almost immediately I started picking at the rope linking my cuffs behind me. I managed to get them partially undone but then hit some rather tight knots. I knew I could have kept picking them until they were apart, but I had given myself enough slack and I thought perhaps I shouldn't. Using my feet, I tugged in the blanket that was next to the cage as last time, there was a chill in the air. I settled into a corner and zoned out while waiting.
I had no idea how much time had passed when he reappeared. He crouched at the side of the cage I was resting on and reached in. He pushed my knees apart and ran his hand along the inside of my thigh. Using his arm for leverage, I couldn't move. While touching me in the most intimate of fashions he proceeded to say an array of things. To be fair, I remember it all in bits and pieces, there were however, other things occupying my attentions. I do remember him asking if I was thirsty, but I chose to ignore it as will become later clear. But then as suddenly as he appeared and got me bothered, he abruptly stopped, stood up, blew out one of the three candles burning and left.
I squirmed around in the cage. Suddenly my arms behind me seemed far more frustrating than they had before he arrived. I changed my position around so I could rest my forehead on one of the bars to the cage. It was my equivalent of trying to give myself a cold shower. I passed the time by playing with the length of rope attached to my cuffs. I knotted it up like macrame behind me, and waited. Eventually he returned again.
"I am going to let you out of this cage," he began, "but you may very well find yourself back in it. There will be signs presented to you and you will either comply and follow them, or, should you miss them, or choose to ignore them, you will end up back here, possibly for the night. Do you understand?"
I was ready to get out of the cage. I nodded. He released the door and opened it and stood back, making no move to help me out. With my hands behind me it wasn't quite so simple but I managed. He went to grab the length of rope and found my macrame which I knew startled him. "Interesting." he said, "Follow me.". He walked me back towards the lobby. All the lights were off. By the door to the kitchen we stopped on carpeted floor. "Kneel.", he said simply, and so I did.
He went into the kitchen and I heard liquid being poured. I knew, from previous conversations, what was likely to come and I wasn't necessarily looking forward to it. He appeared with a bowl. He moved a small cardboard box in front of me that I'd not noticed in the dark and placed the bowl in front of me on top of it. "Remember, the cage is just around the corner."
It was very hard to see in the dim light, I'm sure on purpose. But since it was a white bowl and I could see into it, I knew it was water. And I was thirsty. I approached the bowl cautiously, trying to determine the best way to drink. I suppose I could have tried tipping it from the edge, but I feared that could also have disastrous consequences. I tried lapping but it didn't work well, so I ended up almost kissing the water with just the tip of my nose and chin also in it, and sipping it into my mouth. I tried very hard not to think too much about what I was doing. I was after all, thirsty.
When the water was basically gone I sat back on my heels. Mr.Aloof picked up the bowl and looked at it to see that I had finished. He had been watching me the entire time, but I kept myself from looking at him. He got up, took the bowl in to the kitchen, came back out, moved the box and stood directly in front of me. Then ever so slowly, began to undo his buckle.
Me and oral sex have a long and unsatisfactory history. It is in fact, something I have a hang-up about. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that I completely freak out that I'm doing something wrong. And so paralytic fear and a not so steady stream of boyfriends has kept me relatively free of having to deal with it much in life. In our time together so far, this had only come up once, and it was handled alright, and so I was about to experience the second. Which was also, handled alright.
He pulled away from me, tucking himself back into his pants and doing his buckle and disappeared into the kitchen where I heard more noises. My ordeal was clearly not yet over. He returned with the bowl again, positioned the box back in front of me, and set the bowl down. In the dim light I swear it looked like dog food in the bowl. Which I'm sure he picked on purpose. I was also sure, he would not feed me dog food. I leaned in towards the bowl and sniffed. Seemed like chilli. Chilli is not my most favorite food, but it didn't seem a good time to bring it up. And I'd also not eaten dinner and my stomach had been grumbling, but still... it was chilli in a bowl and I was on my knees with my hands behind my back. I darted out my tongue to taste it. Definitely chilli. I kept this up for a while, as there didn't seem a good way to scoop it and I did not want to stick my nose and chin in chilli. By licking around the edge I finally managed to get a piece of meat up and out without any mess at all. I chewed it slowly, aware that Mr.Aloof sat watching me intently.
My progress was slow. Mr.Aloof switched from sitting and watching to standing over me and watching. I was about halfway through the bowl and had gotten a small spot of chilli on my chin. I wasn't sure I had the stamina to continue, but I also knew I was likely running his patience down. I was getting slower. I looked down into the bowl and then I craned my neck to look up at him. Another half-hearted attempt and I repeated the look. He crouched down and examined the bowl. Then, slowly and deliberately he put his hand right into what was left, scooping some up with his fingers and brought it to my mouth, getting it on my nose, chin, and cheeks.. So much for avoiding a mess. He wasn't brutal but he was effective. When I had eaten what was there, he took another scoop and the exercise was repeated. It took three scoops of his hand for the bowl to be emptied. He took it all into the kitchen and washed his hands. Holding a washcloth in his hand, but making no move to clean my face, he told me to stand.
We moved back to the elevator and when the doors opened I refused to look at the mirrored wall, turning my head away. I could feel chilli on my face and I burned with a sort of humiliation. Mr.Aloof had his back to me and I strongly toyed with the idea of wiping my face on his shirt but thought that probably wouldn't go over very well and so I gritted my teeth and endured it. We came out at the loft level and I followed him in. In all this time I had the yukata firmly tied around me, now, standing before him, he untied my hands, and then removed it. There was a chair on the far wall draped in fabric and he pushed me to sitting. Taking my arms over the back, he tied them to the chair. Then, pulling my legs to the outside edge of the chair, he tied my ankles to the chair. I was now firmly attached and I still had chilli on my face. I think there may have been some touching and adjusting, but finally, he wiped my face.
Though I was still attached, exposed, to the chair. What followed was a long period of him toying with me. Leaving me while he did other things in the loft, that I could see him but he ignored me. Or coming over to give me his full attention with his hands or his whip. Again he would say things as he touched me. It's all a bit of a blur. I do remember him saying something about eating all what is offered to and prepared for me in the future or I will like the consequence even less. I do think I stayed attached to the chair for a long while. I had a bit gag on for a while. And while attached to the chair, I managed to make it through oral experience number three with no problems. Eventually though he let me out of the chair and brought me to the bed. My legs were weak after what I had endured and when I got to the other side of the room I collapsed on the bed. But he was not finished, not even close.
He continued his attentions for a while. And then eventually stripped down and lay back on the mattress. In all this time we had barely kissed. What I like about the moment he relaxes in bed is that I can touch him however I want and of course what I hate about the moment he relaxes in bed is that I can touch him however I want and I worry about what he expects. I saw that he was not hard, though he was rather idly touching himself. I began where I felt safe, kissing him. Staying above nipple level, I glanced down to see that he was no longer soft at all and decided to be brave and kept traveling on down to initiate oral experience number four all on my own.
Some time passed and then he pulled me off and rolled over to reach for a condom.
I always forget how much I like sex. Hard sex. Controlling sex. Dominant sex. And I do like it. A lot.
I really can't believe that's two times in less than seven days. Not that I'm in any way complaining.
Of course, based on some of the things whispered to me in the quiet moments of the evening... I shiver to think of the indignities ahead.
I managed to get to his at twenty to nine.
I banged on the door but he didn't come down so I ended up texting him to come and let me in. Eventually he came down and opened the door. We went to the kitchen and chatted for a bit. He put the kettle on like a good British person and asked if I wanted some tea.
"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know!", I said coming behind him and hugging him and resting my head between his shoulder blades.
"Oh fuck," he said, "you're complex." resting his arms over mine.
So we ended up just chatting on the sofa in the kitchen, I didn't have tea. Then, after a bit he grabbed my hand and pulled me up and to the elevator. Though we stood close, there was minimal touching and every time I leaned up to kiss him he pulled back slightly. The doors opened and he pulled me out to the vestibule by the toilets then turned and left. There were no clothes to change into, so I made use of the toilet and then waited for a bit. He didn't appear to be coming back so I started poking around but the door to the main floor was locked. So I went back to the stairwell and listened. There was strange noise coming from the top floor, so I decided to go up. The loft was candle lit but Mr.Aloof was not in it. I kept thinking he was hiding and was going to scare me, but he truly wasn't there. The noise ended up coming from a dvd that was playing on a small portable player by the bed. It was a Japanese shibari dvd. I settled onto the floor/edge of the bed to watch it, seeing as how the sofa was too far away to look at the little screen.
Mr.Aloof returned, changed, and while I noted him, I decided to ignore him, instead, continuing to watch the dvd, which was, pretty interesting really. He paced about, walked over to me, stroked my hair for a bit, then left again. After some minutes he returned, still pacing, and I still ignored him, of course doing so was putting me in some jeopardy so I was also being fairly alert. He again came close to me, and then walked away, picking up a bundle of items that had been on the far sofa, he threw them at me as he left again. It was my green leather and the yukata.
Figuring I'd pushed the line a bit already I set about getting changed while still watching the dvd. I had fastened the ankle cuffs when he returned and sat on the chair by the couch. I still didn't look at him, though I was aware of him in the corner of my eye. I fastened the wrist cuffs and then I pulled my hair back, knotting it into a temporary bun so I could fasten the collar, which was again being a bit pushy since I said just a couple days before I couldn't do it on my own. When I was finished, he walked over, grabbed one of the metal rings set into the collar and pulled me up.
Pulling one of my hands behind me, he threaded rope around one of the cuff rings, then, pulling my other arm behind me, attached it as well. With my hands bound behind me, he walked around to face me.
"What are you doing here K?", he asked.
"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by." Dig, dig, dig the hole.
"I told you I was working and I didn't want to be disturbed.", he said after a pause.
"Don't care." I said. I probably would have liked to say something longer, but that was all I could manage. It's hard to dig holes sometimes.
"Well I care", he said, "and I have things to do, and you need to learn to do as your told. Why did you ignore the clothes left for you? Did you not see them? Too entranced by the video? Or were you ignoring them? It doesn't matter, you have not done what was expected of you, and you need to learn." While saying this he walked behind me again, taking the length of rope, passing it over my shoulder and then through one of the rings in the collar. Without saying much more he pulled me forward, towards the elevator. We went down to the ground floor and he brought me to the cage. It was in the same place as last time, though a bit darker, as it was only lit by three candles this time.
I pulled back a bit, I wasn't sure how long I'd be put there for. He pulled me forward more roughly and then grabbing me by the shoulders positioned me at the door, with him standing behind me. "Kneel.", he said.
It was hard with my hands behind me but I managed to get in and he firmly closed the door behind me. There had been no nudity, no touching, no kissing, no caresses and here I was locked in the cage for an indeterminate amount of time. "I'll be back when I've finished some things and you can think about learning to do what you're told.", he said, and with that, he walked off. Almost immediately I started picking at the rope linking my cuffs behind me. I managed to get them partially undone but then hit some rather tight knots. I knew I could have kept picking them until they were apart, but I had given myself enough slack and I thought perhaps I shouldn't. Using my feet, I tugged in the blanket that was next to the cage as last time, there was a chill in the air. I settled into a corner and zoned out while waiting.
I had no idea how much time had passed when he reappeared. He crouched at the side of the cage I was resting on and reached in. He pushed my knees apart and ran his hand along the inside of my thigh. Using his arm for leverage, I couldn't move. While touching me in the most intimate of fashions he proceeded to say an array of things. To be fair, I remember it all in bits and pieces, there were however, other things occupying my attentions. I do remember him asking if I was thirsty, but I chose to ignore it as will become later clear. But then as suddenly as he appeared and got me bothered, he abruptly stopped, stood up, blew out one of the three candles burning and left.
I squirmed around in the cage. Suddenly my arms behind me seemed far more frustrating than they had before he arrived. I changed my position around so I could rest my forehead on one of the bars to the cage. It was my equivalent of trying to give myself a cold shower. I passed the time by playing with the length of rope attached to my cuffs. I knotted it up like macrame behind me, and waited. Eventually he returned again.
"I am going to let you out of this cage," he began, "but you may very well find yourself back in it. There will be signs presented to you and you will either comply and follow them, or, should you miss them, or choose to ignore them, you will end up back here, possibly for the night. Do you understand?"
I was ready to get out of the cage. I nodded. He released the door and opened it and stood back, making no move to help me out. With my hands behind me it wasn't quite so simple but I managed. He went to grab the length of rope and found my macrame which I knew startled him. "Interesting." he said, "Follow me.". He walked me back towards the lobby. All the lights were off. By the door to the kitchen we stopped on carpeted floor. "Kneel.", he said simply, and so I did.
He went into the kitchen and I heard liquid being poured. I knew, from previous conversations, what was likely to come and I wasn't necessarily looking forward to it. He appeared with a bowl. He moved a small cardboard box in front of me that I'd not noticed in the dark and placed the bowl in front of me on top of it. "Remember, the cage is just around the corner."
It was very hard to see in the dim light, I'm sure on purpose. But since it was a white bowl and I could see into it, I knew it was water. And I was thirsty. I approached the bowl cautiously, trying to determine the best way to drink. I suppose I could have tried tipping it from the edge, but I feared that could also have disastrous consequences. I tried lapping but it didn't work well, so I ended up almost kissing the water with just the tip of my nose and chin also in it, and sipping it into my mouth. I tried very hard not to think too much about what I was doing. I was after all, thirsty.
When the water was basically gone I sat back on my heels. Mr.Aloof picked up the bowl and looked at it to see that I had finished. He had been watching me the entire time, but I kept myself from looking at him. He got up, took the bowl in to the kitchen, came back out, moved the box and stood directly in front of me. Then ever so slowly, began to undo his buckle.
Me and oral sex have a long and unsatisfactory history. It is in fact, something I have a hang-up about. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that I completely freak out that I'm doing something wrong. And so paralytic fear and a not so steady stream of boyfriends has kept me relatively free of having to deal with it much in life. In our time together so far, this had only come up once, and it was handled alright, and so I was about to experience the second. Which was also, handled alright.
He pulled away from me, tucking himself back into his pants and doing his buckle and disappeared into the kitchen where I heard more noises. My ordeal was clearly not yet over. He returned with the bowl again, positioned the box back in front of me, and set the bowl down. In the dim light I swear it looked like dog food in the bowl. Which I'm sure he picked on purpose. I was also sure, he would not feed me dog food. I leaned in towards the bowl and sniffed. Seemed like chilli. Chilli is not my most favorite food, but it didn't seem a good time to bring it up. And I'd also not eaten dinner and my stomach had been grumbling, but still... it was chilli in a bowl and I was on my knees with my hands behind my back. I darted out my tongue to taste it. Definitely chilli. I kept this up for a while, as there didn't seem a good way to scoop it and I did not want to stick my nose and chin in chilli. By licking around the edge I finally managed to get a piece of meat up and out without any mess at all. I chewed it slowly, aware that Mr.Aloof sat watching me intently.
My progress was slow. Mr.Aloof switched from sitting and watching to standing over me and watching. I was about halfway through the bowl and had gotten a small spot of chilli on my chin. I wasn't sure I had the stamina to continue, but I also knew I was likely running his patience down. I was getting slower. I looked down into the bowl and then I craned my neck to look up at him. Another half-hearted attempt and I repeated the look. He crouched down and examined the bowl. Then, slowly and deliberately he put his hand right into what was left, scooping some up with his fingers and brought it to my mouth, getting it on my nose, chin, and cheeks.. So much for avoiding a mess. He wasn't brutal but he was effective. When I had eaten what was there, he took another scoop and the exercise was repeated. It took three scoops of his hand for the bowl to be emptied. He took it all into the kitchen and washed his hands. Holding a washcloth in his hand, but making no move to clean my face, he told me to stand.
We moved back to the elevator and when the doors opened I refused to look at the mirrored wall, turning my head away. I could feel chilli on my face and I burned with a sort of humiliation. Mr.Aloof had his back to me and I strongly toyed with the idea of wiping my face on his shirt but thought that probably wouldn't go over very well and so I gritted my teeth and endured it. We came out at the loft level and I followed him in. In all this time I had the yukata firmly tied around me, now, standing before him, he untied my hands, and then removed it. There was a chair on the far wall draped in fabric and he pushed me to sitting. Taking my arms over the back, he tied them to the chair. Then, pulling my legs to the outside edge of the chair, he tied my ankles to the chair. I was now firmly attached and I still had chilli on my face. I think there may have been some touching and adjusting, but finally, he wiped my face.
Though I was still attached, exposed, to the chair. What followed was a long period of him toying with me. Leaving me while he did other things in the loft, that I could see him but he ignored me. Or coming over to give me his full attention with his hands or his whip. Again he would say things as he touched me. It's all a bit of a blur. I do remember him saying something about eating all what is offered to and prepared for me in the future or I will like the consequence even less. I do think I stayed attached to the chair for a long while. I had a bit gag on for a while. And while attached to the chair, I managed to make it through oral experience number three with no problems. Eventually though he let me out of the chair and brought me to the bed. My legs were weak after what I had endured and when I got to the other side of the room I collapsed on the bed. But he was not finished, not even close.
He continued his attentions for a while. And then eventually stripped down and lay back on the mattress. In all this time we had barely kissed. What I like about the moment he relaxes in bed is that I can touch him however I want and of course what I hate about the moment he relaxes in bed is that I can touch him however I want and I worry about what he expects. I saw that he was not hard, though he was rather idly touching himself. I began where I felt safe, kissing him. Staying above nipple level, I glanced down to see that he was no longer soft at all and decided to be brave and kept traveling on down to initiate oral experience number four all on my own.
Some time passed and then he pulled me off and rolled over to reach for a condom.
I always forget how much I like sex. Hard sex. Controlling sex. Dominant sex. And I do like it. A lot.
I really can't believe that's two times in less than seven days. Not that I'm in any way complaining.
Of course, based on some of the things whispered to me in the quiet moments of the evening... I shiver to think of the indignities ahead.
17 October 2005
Blind
Why oh why did I just look at the sun? It was shining into my eyes and for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to look up at the intrusion.
That was dumb.
Sort of like the work I'm doing today. A powerpoint for the presentation at the interview I will not be attending. I am doing all the work and won't get any of the credit. That's dumb.
I think I am heading south tonight to suffer indignities at the hands of Mr.Aloof... some might consider that dumb, but I don't. Hell, it hasn't even been one week since the last time, I consider it a huge bonus!
The sun burned off the morning mist. Which was really a shame. When I woke this morning, I could barely tear my eyes away form the window. And yes, that is actually the view from my window. I was so fucking impressed I ran downstairs to get my camera and capture the moment.
That was dumb.
Sort of like the work I'm doing today. A powerpoint for the presentation at the interview I will not be attending. I am doing all the work and won't get any of the credit. That's dumb.
I think I am heading south tonight to suffer indignities at the hands of Mr.Aloof... some might consider that dumb, but I don't. Hell, it hasn't even been one week since the last time, I consider it a huge bonus!
The sun burned off the morning mist. Which was really a shame. When I woke this morning, I could barely tear my eyes away form the window. And yes, that is actually the view from my window. I was so fucking impressed I ran downstairs to get my camera and capture the moment.
16 October 2005
All Alone
So flatmate C left yesterday. And no one is yet interested in the room. And so I am alone in my flat, and it's actually pretty nice.
My intention today had initially been to clean, seeing as how C did not clean when she left, and as noted previously, she wasn't the neatest of people to begin with. However, after sleeping in, and studying, I decided that what I really wanted to do was get out of my flat and go do something. So I decided to go see a movie.
Which I did, and it was really good. Of course, when it finished, everything was closed, seeing as how this country is still a bit stupid when it comes to weekends and shop hours. So I came home and am now just being lazy.
I have to admit it's nice to know that I am going to be undisturbed, that my space is my own, that I can do whatever I want. Of course, this will be even better, when it's all clean.
What, me procrastinate?
My intention today had initially been to clean, seeing as how C did not clean when she left, and as noted previously, she wasn't the neatest of people to begin with. However, after sleeping in, and studying, I decided that what I really wanted to do was get out of my flat and go do something. So I decided to go see a movie.
Which I did, and it was really good. Of course, when it finished, everything was closed, seeing as how this country is still a bit stupid when it comes to weekends and shop hours. So I came home and am now just being lazy.
I have to admit it's nice to know that I am going to be undisturbed, that my space is my own, that I can do whatever I want. Of course, this will be even better, when it's all clean.
What, me procrastinate?
14 October 2005
Monkey War
Did you know the last post was my 200th? Well, did ya'? I kept meaning to make note of it when it came and went, and there I went and used it up without realizing... On the other hand, seeing as it's one of the few special porn posts I hold near and dear to my heart, I'm not that upset about how it went.
But funny how life can just shift from good to bad, from fun to not fun, from sex to work.
I was basking in afterglow most of the day yesterday when I was suddenly and abruptly crashed back to my senses by some rather annoying unpleasantness at work. To refresh for my existing readers, and to explain to you, who just stumbled by, though I work in a large office, I generally work in a smaller group that consists of five people. At the top, is P or 'number one'. Below P there is T, number two, then, (I thought) there was me, K, holding firm and centered at three, then there was H at four and C at five. If you asked anyone else in the office, this is likely the structure they would have suggested based on who has been in the office the longest, and just general assumption.
So.
Two weeks ago, when I was horribly fucking sick, I dragged my sorry sick ass into work because I had been given a tender to work on. No one else was working on it aside from P, and there have been various discussions about me moving up the responsibility chain, particularly since number two is leaving. So I came in, got the work done, and suffered for it for an entire other week because I was that much sicker for coming in.
I found out late last week that we had been shortlisted to interview for the project, which I thought was great. Responsibility moving right along. All this week I've been checking with P if I would be going to the interview or if it was just him. There was a minor conflict with a meeting with my other main project, so I wasn't sure.
Yesterday, after the dentist (just a cleaning, my teeth were great, yay me!), I came back to the office and P came by and said, "I just wanted to let you know we decided that H would go to the interview."
Excuse me?
I sat there and stewed. And ranted on IM to C and other friend TD. I was supposed to sit down with P in the late afternoon about a report for my main project I'm doing (on my own) and so after we'd discussed it I said, "P, can I speak with you about something else? I'm just curious why I'm not going to the interview. Is it because there's a conflict with timing for my main project?"
"No.", he said, "It's just a matter of seniority."
Excuse me?!?
We had a small and unsatisfactory conversation about how H has more work in his portfolio. The fact is, we probably have equal years work experience, so while he is not necessarily less qualified than me, he is not necessarily more qualified than me either. So really, this was all bullshit. I also pointed out to P that there had been this big push to get me my own projects, than I had been trying to be more active, but if I wasn't given a project, then I obviously wasn't going to be able to say I had projects, and if I can't show projects, they won't give me projects, so therefore if I'm not given a project... you see how that went.
Anyway. Today is T's last day. And there will only be four of us. I have a review scheduled for December. I am willing to wait and see how things work without T around, if H can really handle the work, if he becomes a mini-despot or not, if I am really not given a project to work on. If I have literally hit the glass ceiling in my office, well I may very well be looking for another fucking job. Which really pisses me off. There is no reason I am not being given my own project. And I generally really like this office, and this job, and would be angry if I had to leave because the management was so fucking horrible. Seriously, I'm seething.
Don't fuck with the monkeys.
But funny how life can just shift from good to bad, from fun to not fun, from sex to work.
I was basking in afterglow most of the day yesterday when I was suddenly and abruptly crashed back to my senses by some rather annoying unpleasantness at work. To refresh for my existing readers, and to explain to you, who just stumbled by, though I work in a large office, I generally work in a smaller group that consists of five people. At the top, is P or 'number one'. Below P there is T, number two, then, (I thought) there was me, K, holding firm and centered at three, then there was H at four and C at five. If you asked anyone else in the office, this is likely the structure they would have suggested based on who has been in the office the longest, and just general assumption.
So.
Two weeks ago, when I was horribly fucking sick, I dragged my sorry sick ass into work because I had been given a tender to work on. No one else was working on it aside from P, and there have been various discussions about me moving up the responsibility chain, particularly since number two is leaving. So I came in, got the work done, and suffered for it for an entire other week because I was that much sicker for coming in.
I found out late last week that we had been shortlisted to interview for the project, which I thought was great. Responsibility moving right along. All this week I've been checking with P if I would be going to the interview or if it was just him. There was a minor conflict with a meeting with my other main project, so I wasn't sure.
Yesterday, after the dentist (just a cleaning, my teeth were great, yay me!), I came back to the office and P came by and said, "I just wanted to let you know we decided that H would go to the interview."
Excuse me?
I sat there and stewed. And ranted on IM to C and other friend TD. I was supposed to sit down with P in the late afternoon about a report for my main project I'm doing (on my own) and so after we'd discussed it I said, "P, can I speak with you about something else? I'm just curious why I'm not going to the interview. Is it because there's a conflict with timing for my main project?"
"No.", he said, "It's just a matter of seniority."
Excuse me?!?
We had a small and unsatisfactory conversation about how H has more work in his portfolio. The fact is, we probably have equal years work experience, so while he is not necessarily less qualified than me, he is not necessarily more qualified than me either. So really, this was all bullshit. I also pointed out to P that there had been this big push to get me my own projects, than I had been trying to be more active, but if I wasn't given a project, then I obviously wasn't going to be able to say I had projects, and if I can't show projects, they won't give me projects, so therefore if I'm not given a project... you see how that went.
Anyway. Today is T's last day. And there will only be four of us. I have a review scheduled for December. I am willing to wait and see how things work without T around, if H can really handle the work, if he becomes a mini-despot or not, if I am really not given a project to work on. If I have literally hit the glass ceiling in my office, well I may very well be looking for another fucking job. Which really pisses me off. There is no reason I am not being given my own project. And I generally really like this office, and this job, and would be angry if I had to leave because the management was so fucking horrible. Seriously, I'm seething.
Don't fuck with the monkeys.
13 October 2005
Dreams
What a long night.
So I trucked on down to Mr.Aloof's and ended up arriving around 8:30. It had been three weeks since I'd seen him, and then two weeks before that. We had spoken earlier in the day about compliance. And I indicated that I was perhaps not in the most compliant of moods, to which he responded there were ways of coercing good behavior. What this amounted to was that by the time I was on my final leg of the trip to his, I was a bundle of nerves and energy.
He let me in the building and I found I could not stay still. He tried to kiss me hello and I shied away. I just kept moving around. He finally got hold of me and I just squirmed and laughed. "What's so funny? I'm just holding you." he said, "I've been looking forward to seeing you."
"I know, I just have all this nervous energy for some reason." I said, twisting away and out of reach.
We sat in the kitchen on the ground floor for a bit just chatting and catching up. He offered me juice and I asked for water instead. After a bit of shuffling about and talking and drinking water I calmed enough to allow myself to be held, and kissed.
"Finish your water, I'll be back down in a moment." he said, disappearing upstairs.
I plunked down and finished my water, still a bit fidgety.
In a few minutes I heard the elevator open and he reappeared, but not as he had left. He had changed into his dominant persona's clothes. Strode towards me purposefully and pulled me to my feet. He handled me, firmly, not quite roughly. He positioned my hands behind my back and I let them sneak back out. He grabbed them and placed them behind me again. I kept sneaking them out cautiously and he kept pushing them back, sometimes holding my wrists behind me. After some time he dragged me to the elevator and pushed me in. "You can fight me if you want.", he said.
And so I decided not to be compliant. To resist and struggle as the elevator spun through various floors as he kept hitting different buttons. I pulled my arms free and got them out only to find them pinned above my head, and by only one of his no less. I was actually surprised I could be so easily detained, because I am not that weak, but he was effective. The doors opened on the ground floor. "Do you want to go home?" he asked.
"No." I said, still struggling. The doors closed and then opened on the third floor and he tugged me out, and pulled me over to the toilets and some chairs upon which I could see a yukata. "You can go all the way back home or you can put these on and meet me upstairs. Do you want to go home?", he still held me tightly.
"No." I squeaked.
He let go of me abruptly and strode to the stairs, going up to the top floor, and leaving me alone. Well clearly I wasn't going to go home. I used the toilet and started to strip down. When I picked up the yukata I saw my green leather stacked beneath it. Now that it's gotten some use, it's not nearly as stiff as it was, and I got the wrist and ankle cuffs on myself. But the collar is another matter, as my hair gets in the way. I decided to make it a point of not quite compliance. With the collar in hand and yukata firmly fastened, I headed upstairs.
Mr.Aloof was sitting in a chair at the end of the candle lit loft with his feet propped up on the coffee table. I walked over to him standing tall, collar in hand. "I need help.", I said, "I can't do this on my own" holding the collar out slightly. He stared at me for a bit and I stood firm, then he sat forward and grabbed the front of the yukata in a fist and firmly pulled down. I resisted a moment but then kneeled, I'd made enough fuss. He took the collar from me and leaned over to fasten it as I held back my hair. He then sat back with a finger looped in the collar, keeping me to the ground. He relaxed listening to the music that was playing and then, when it was clear I wasn't going to be acting up, started stroking my hair which I adore.
After some time he led me to the center of the loft to where there was a small circle of rope on the ground and he moved me to stand inside it. There was more general messing about and the yukata was eventually removed and then another length of rope was produced and my cuffs were fastened together. The length was then tossed over a beam directly overhead. This was feeling familiar. A blindfold was produced and I was cut off from sight.
The whip was produced and was applied between touches and caresses and silence. This went on for some time. Then there was an extended silence and I squirmed in my bonds. Debating whether or not I should wiggle the blindfold off against my raised arms. Eventually I heard the elevator. I had not even known he had left, and then footsteps as he returned. He let me down and led me blindfolded to the bed, pushing me down to it. There was more attentive touching, and no whip, which was pleasant. The blindfold loosened and I removed it, my hands still bound together. He moved me to sitting and pulled me up to stand, then refastened the blindfold firmly. I mewled and he chuckled, leading me away.
Right before the threshold to the elevator I felt him drape the yukata around my shoulders. I grabbed it in my bound hands, so it would not fall, and we got into the elevator. Getting out, I knew we were at ground level when my bare feet hit cold concrete. I could hear the rain dripping and there was a slight chill. The more we walked, the more I resisted until he was pulling me firmly. Then we stopped. He undid the rope that bound my wrists. He moved me by my shoulders and I felt styrofoam at my toes. Which only meant one thing. The cage.
Holding me firmly, he had me kneel forward and my knees hit something soft. Taking my hand he put it on the metal of the cage and I could feel I was inside. He nudged me forward slightly and I felt and heard the door close behind me and him locking it. I removed the blindfold, tugging it up. I could see my position now, and I turned in the cage to look up at him. He reached through, stroking my hair, holding my hand, and then walked off.
It had been discussed in the afternoon, as I made my last minute plans to travel south, that Mr.Aloof had to go lock up the new building when the crew was done working. Around eleven. It had been suggested that it would be during this absence, a round-trip of about one hour, that I may be left in the cage. And so I knew, once I was inside, that he would be leaving and I would have about an hour, locked away.
He had left a blanket to the side of the cage, or perhaps it was what he covered it with when not in use, regardless, I could reach it and tugged it inside. I bunched it up to form a sort of pillow and managed to squeeze myself into a distorted ball at the bottom of the cage. It was about then that Mr.Aloof returned. I thought he had gone but maybe he had just been spying on me. It had taken me a short while to twist into a comfortable position and I wasn't going to move again, not if he was leaving. He came close to check on me one last time, and then he truly left. I saw a flash of the truck lights and heard the vehicle as he drove away.
And so time passed. Four candles illuminated my corner. The building was full of all sorts of creaks and groans and of course there was the rain. I was not going to fall asleep, and anyway, I wasn't completely comfortable. Luckily, I'm good at doing nothing and so was able to somehow zone out and entertain myself for the bulk of the time. I started to get restless and move around not so long before I saw the lights and heard the truck return. At which point I listened intently for Mr.Aloof to return and free me.
And he did. And had me follow him back to the elevator, back to the third floor. Where I was given the opportunity to use the toilet if I needed. "I'll meet you on my bed.", he said, going downstairs to take care of whatever he needed to. And so up the stairs I went, curled on the bed, looking back towards the door for when he returned, and stripped down, and got into bed with me.
And there was some good hard....
And then sleep.
It was so funny. I dreamed that we were in his bed and I could not sleep, and then I dreamed that I dreamed that dream, and then I woke up, thrice removed but still in the bed. How weird was that? Plus both dreams involved sex, when, hadn't I just had enough? Very weird.
So, not everything off the list, but well enough to make me happy. *grin*
So I trucked on down to Mr.Aloof's and ended up arriving around 8:30. It had been three weeks since I'd seen him, and then two weeks before that. We had spoken earlier in the day about compliance. And I indicated that I was perhaps not in the most compliant of moods, to which he responded there were ways of coercing good behavior. What this amounted to was that by the time I was on my final leg of the trip to his, I was a bundle of nerves and energy.
He let me in the building and I found I could not stay still. He tried to kiss me hello and I shied away. I just kept moving around. He finally got hold of me and I just squirmed and laughed. "What's so funny? I'm just holding you." he said, "I've been looking forward to seeing you."
"I know, I just have all this nervous energy for some reason." I said, twisting away and out of reach.
We sat in the kitchen on the ground floor for a bit just chatting and catching up. He offered me juice and I asked for water instead. After a bit of shuffling about and talking and drinking water I calmed enough to allow myself to be held, and kissed.
"Finish your water, I'll be back down in a moment." he said, disappearing upstairs.
I plunked down and finished my water, still a bit fidgety.
In a few minutes I heard the elevator open and he reappeared, but not as he had left. He had changed into his dominant persona's clothes. Strode towards me purposefully and pulled me to my feet. He handled me, firmly, not quite roughly. He positioned my hands behind my back and I let them sneak back out. He grabbed them and placed them behind me again. I kept sneaking them out cautiously and he kept pushing them back, sometimes holding my wrists behind me. After some time he dragged me to the elevator and pushed me in. "You can fight me if you want.", he said.
And so I decided not to be compliant. To resist and struggle as the elevator spun through various floors as he kept hitting different buttons. I pulled my arms free and got them out only to find them pinned above my head, and by only one of his no less. I was actually surprised I could be so easily detained, because I am not that weak, but he was effective. The doors opened on the ground floor. "Do you want to go home?" he asked.
"No." I said, still struggling. The doors closed and then opened on the third floor and he tugged me out, and pulled me over to the toilets and some chairs upon which I could see a yukata. "You can go all the way back home or you can put these on and meet me upstairs. Do you want to go home?", he still held me tightly.
"No." I squeaked.
He let go of me abruptly and strode to the stairs, going up to the top floor, and leaving me alone. Well clearly I wasn't going to go home. I used the toilet and started to strip down. When I picked up the yukata I saw my green leather stacked beneath it. Now that it's gotten some use, it's not nearly as stiff as it was, and I got the wrist and ankle cuffs on myself. But the collar is another matter, as my hair gets in the way. I decided to make it a point of not quite compliance. With the collar in hand and yukata firmly fastened, I headed upstairs.
Mr.Aloof was sitting in a chair at the end of the candle lit loft with his feet propped up on the coffee table. I walked over to him standing tall, collar in hand. "I need help.", I said, "I can't do this on my own" holding the collar out slightly. He stared at me for a bit and I stood firm, then he sat forward and grabbed the front of the yukata in a fist and firmly pulled down. I resisted a moment but then kneeled, I'd made enough fuss. He took the collar from me and leaned over to fasten it as I held back my hair. He then sat back with a finger looped in the collar, keeping me to the ground. He relaxed listening to the music that was playing and then, when it was clear I wasn't going to be acting up, started stroking my hair which I adore.
After some time he led me to the center of the loft to where there was a small circle of rope on the ground and he moved me to stand inside it. There was more general messing about and the yukata was eventually removed and then another length of rope was produced and my cuffs were fastened together. The length was then tossed over a beam directly overhead. This was feeling familiar. A blindfold was produced and I was cut off from sight.
The whip was produced and was applied between touches and caresses and silence. This went on for some time. Then there was an extended silence and I squirmed in my bonds. Debating whether or not I should wiggle the blindfold off against my raised arms. Eventually I heard the elevator. I had not even known he had left, and then footsteps as he returned. He let me down and led me blindfolded to the bed, pushing me down to it. There was more attentive touching, and no whip, which was pleasant. The blindfold loosened and I removed it, my hands still bound together. He moved me to sitting and pulled me up to stand, then refastened the blindfold firmly. I mewled and he chuckled, leading me away.
Right before the threshold to the elevator I felt him drape the yukata around my shoulders. I grabbed it in my bound hands, so it would not fall, and we got into the elevator. Getting out, I knew we were at ground level when my bare feet hit cold concrete. I could hear the rain dripping and there was a slight chill. The more we walked, the more I resisted until he was pulling me firmly. Then we stopped. He undid the rope that bound my wrists. He moved me by my shoulders and I felt styrofoam at my toes. Which only meant one thing. The cage.
Holding me firmly, he had me kneel forward and my knees hit something soft. Taking my hand he put it on the metal of the cage and I could feel I was inside. He nudged me forward slightly and I felt and heard the door close behind me and him locking it. I removed the blindfold, tugging it up. I could see my position now, and I turned in the cage to look up at him. He reached through, stroking my hair, holding my hand, and then walked off.
It had been discussed in the afternoon, as I made my last minute plans to travel south, that Mr.Aloof had to go lock up the new building when the crew was done working. Around eleven. It had been suggested that it would be during this absence, a round-trip of about one hour, that I may be left in the cage. And so I knew, once I was inside, that he would be leaving and I would have about an hour, locked away.
He had left a blanket to the side of the cage, or perhaps it was what he covered it with when not in use, regardless, I could reach it and tugged it inside. I bunched it up to form a sort of pillow and managed to squeeze myself into a distorted ball at the bottom of the cage. It was about then that Mr.Aloof returned. I thought he had gone but maybe he had just been spying on me. It had taken me a short while to twist into a comfortable position and I wasn't going to move again, not if he was leaving. He came close to check on me one last time, and then he truly left. I saw a flash of the truck lights and heard the vehicle as he drove away.
And so time passed. Four candles illuminated my corner. The building was full of all sorts of creaks and groans and of course there was the rain. I was not going to fall asleep, and anyway, I wasn't completely comfortable. Luckily, I'm good at doing nothing and so was able to somehow zone out and entertain myself for the bulk of the time. I started to get restless and move around not so long before I saw the lights and heard the truck return. At which point I listened intently for Mr.Aloof to return and free me.
And he did. And had me follow him back to the elevator, back to the third floor. Where I was given the opportunity to use the toilet if I needed. "I'll meet you on my bed.", he said, going downstairs to take care of whatever he needed to. And so up the stairs I went, curled on the bed, looking back towards the door for when he returned, and stripped down, and got into bed with me.
And there was some good hard....
And then sleep.
It was so funny. I dreamed that we were in his bed and I could not sleep, and then I dreamed that I dreamed that dream, and then I woke up, thrice removed but still in the bed. How weird was that? Plus both dreams involved sex, when, hadn't I just had enough? Very weird.
So, not everything off the list, but well enough to make me happy. *grin*
12 October 2005
My Idea of Fun
I am traveling south tonight. A somewhat last minute decision. Well, not exactly. A week ago Mr.Aloof sent an email suggesting a Wednesday meeting and I was confused as to if he meant that evening Wednesday or one week Wednesday tonight. So there has been a week-long possibility of meeting up tonight, but it was not solidified until after lunch today which I consider last minute.
I wrote to him this morning "I need to go do something fun."
And he wrote me back:
"Force fed...
Punished...
Caged...
Removed...
Bound...
Wrapped...
Entered..."
Hm..... Sounds like fun to me! It may be time for another pornalong... fucking hell, has it been THAT long??? No, okay, there was a more normal night in there of no particular play (and oddly, messing about but no sex) that I did not blog about here. I did write it in my paper journal, but there just wasn't too much to tell about that one. That was three weeks ago. Still, long enough! Time for some fun!
I wrote to him this morning "I need to go do something fun."
And he wrote me back:
"Force fed...
Punished...
Caged...
Removed...
Bound...
Wrapped...
Entered..."
Hm..... Sounds like fun to me! It may be time for another pornalong... fucking hell, has it been THAT long??? No, okay, there was a more normal night in there of no particular play (and oddly, messing about but no sex) that I did not blog about here. I did write it in my paper journal, but there just wasn't too much to tell about that one. That was three weeks ago. Still, long enough! Time for some fun!
11 October 2005
Sloth
I am not being very productive today.
Or rather, I am not being very productive today about the things I should be productive about. This morning I was very productive because I decided to make the rest of the crepe batter into crepes and bring all the extra ones in for friends at work. That was successful, and productive.
I did manage to study last night. And that was productive. Maybe not study well, but I am just getting back into it. And I'm going to have to study a little bit every day from now on. When I'm studying it's okay, it's just getting myself to start that's the problem.
Sort of like going to the gym. Granted I've not been well when my gym interest reignited, but I could probably go now, and I've not been. Why? Because I can't find the motivation, even though I know that if I was at the gym it would be fine and I would be enjoying it. So gym attendance has not been very productive.
And then there's work. I am struggling through doing the most menial of tasks. Which in all honesty is perhaps part of the problem, but maybe not. Because when a task requires a lot of mental energy I am equally reluctant to get started. I'm working, but very slowly, and generally, not being very productive.
What I did manage to do today was send an email to Mr.Aloof that I vaguely wish I hadn't sent. Except something needed to be said. And now I've not heard back from him and so it is this small thing that is taking my mental energy and attention.
And I keep getting calls from total freaks about my room. You wouldn't think it was so difficult, to rent a room. But I just missed the school term starting and apparently, the general public are total and complete morons.
But you know, I knew that already.
Or rather, I am not being very productive today about the things I should be productive about. This morning I was very productive because I decided to make the rest of the crepe batter into crepes and bring all the extra ones in for friends at work. That was successful, and productive.
I did manage to study last night. And that was productive. Maybe not study well, but I am just getting back into it. And I'm going to have to study a little bit every day from now on. When I'm studying it's okay, it's just getting myself to start that's the problem.
Sort of like going to the gym. Granted I've not been well when my gym interest reignited, but I could probably go now, and I've not been. Why? Because I can't find the motivation, even though I know that if I was at the gym it would be fine and I would be enjoying it. So gym attendance has not been very productive.
And then there's work. I am struggling through doing the most menial of tasks. Which in all honesty is perhaps part of the problem, but maybe not. Because when a task requires a lot of mental energy I am equally reluctant to get started. I'm working, but very slowly, and generally, not being very productive.
What I did manage to do today was send an email to Mr.Aloof that I vaguely wish I hadn't sent. Except something needed to be said. And now I've not heard back from him and so it is this small thing that is taking my mental energy and attention.
And I keep getting calls from total freaks about my room. You wouldn't think it was so difficult, to rent a room. But I just missed the school term starting and apparently, the general public are total and complete morons.
But you know, I knew that already.
10 October 2005
Honesty
I have been thinking lately about the concept of honesty. It's something that I hold onto as one of the fundamental principles of how I live my life, even to a fault. I have been called 'brutally honest' by various people that know me. My friends know that I will not coddle them with things they want to hear, even if we end up in an argument about it. Which has also happened in the past, and probably will again in the future.
I don't know why honesty has become such a cornerstone to my life. And I don't just mean honesty in one's dealing with others, I also mean honesty in one's thoughts about themselves. Certainly a lack of honesty with oneself allows life to be smoother, and no doubt happier.
People always say there is such a thing as 'too honest' and that's true, the application of honesty involves tact. Which is very important to have side by side with honesty. Of course tact can be relative, what one person finds acceptable, another person may not, but hey, that's life.
I guess what I have never been able to understand is how people are dishonest with themselves. It's easy enough (though not necessarily correct) to lie to another person, because you know you are lying to them. But how does one lie to themselves? What process in the brain actually allows someone to believe something that is blatantly not true? Ultimately you must know the truth somewhere, and so it must make you really unhappy and miserable. But saying that, sometimes the truth is hard to face, and facing up to it can also make you really unhappy and miserable.
But I guess, to me, it's more important to be truthful, because at least if you're truthful, when it comes time to make a change, you are starting from a position of honesty and therefore much more likely to succeed. If you aren't being honest with yourself, then you aren't ever going to change or improve because you are not being realistic.
I don't know why honesty has become such a cornerstone to my life. And I don't just mean honesty in one's dealing with others, I also mean honesty in one's thoughts about themselves. Certainly a lack of honesty with oneself allows life to be smoother, and no doubt happier.
People always say there is such a thing as 'too honest' and that's true, the application of honesty involves tact. Which is very important to have side by side with honesty. Of course tact can be relative, what one person finds acceptable, another person may not, but hey, that's life.
I guess what I have never been able to understand is how people are dishonest with themselves. It's easy enough (though not necessarily correct) to lie to another person, because you know you are lying to them. But how does one lie to themselves? What process in the brain actually allows someone to believe something that is blatantly not true? Ultimately you must know the truth somewhere, and so it must make you really unhappy and miserable. But saying that, sometimes the truth is hard to face, and facing up to it can also make you really unhappy and miserable.
But I guess, to me, it's more important to be truthful, because at least if you're truthful, when it comes time to make a change, you are starting from a position of honesty and therefore much more likely to succeed. If you aren't being honest with yourself, then you aren't ever going to change or improve because you are not being realistic.
09 October 2005
Something New
I just successfully made my very first crepes. With nutella and bananas. They were so yummy. I didn't even have time for a picture! You'll just have to take my word on it....
Of course, I have enough batter left over, maybe I'll take a picture tomorrow when I make more!
Of course, I have enough batter left over, maybe I'll take a picture tomorrow when I make more!
Lazy Sunday
It's half one and I'm still in my pajamas. I don't think I'm going to get dressed today. I'm doing a bit of cleaning up around the flat. It had gotten away from me a bit, with being ill. And C has definitely not been pulling her weight either, though she has been contributing a good deal to the mess-making. She moves out on Saturday and I've yet to find a new flatmate. It may be time to start worrying soon.
What I'm trying to build up enough energy to do (or clear enough room to do) is to flip my mattress over. This will involve stripping my bed of all the bedding as well, and probably putting it straight into the wash. So it's not really quite so simple. Well, and also the mattress is really heavy and I'm likely to break something by attempting to flip it by myself, but I'm stubborn like that, and anyway, who is there to ask for help really?
I am also going to buckle down and do a good couple hours of studying today. Time to jump right back up on that horse and ride it hard. I want to fly to New York in early December to take these two exams, so October is all I have left to study for the one exam before switching over to the other. Fuck me, I'm so going to fail both of these exams, but I'll go through the performance regardless. It's the one thing I wish I was back home for. It's just really hard to find the motivation and resources to study here. But I'll keep trying. I have years before I give up entirely.
My friend S is all stressed out because her cat is having some kind of liver trouble and has been at the vets since Thursday night. So I've been calling and texting her to lend moral support. I know I would be a wreck if I had a pet who was sick. Yet another good reason not to have a pet I guess.
What I'm trying to build up enough energy to do (or clear enough room to do) is to flip my mattress over. This will involve stripping my bed of all the bedding as well, and probably putting it straight into the wash. So it's not really quite so simple. Well, and also the mattress is really heavy and I'm likely to break something by attempting to flip it by myself, but I'm stubborn like that, and anyway, who is there to ask for help really?
I am also going to buckle down and do a good couple hours of studying today. Time to jump right back up on that horse and ride it hard. I want to fly to New York in early December to take these two exams, so October is all I have left to study for the one exam before switching over to the other. Fuck me, I'm so going to fail both of these exams, but I'll go through the performance regardless. It's the one thing I wish I was back home for. It's just really hard to find the motivation and resources to study here. But I'll keep trying. I have years before I give up entirely.
My friend S is all stressed out because her cat is having some kind of liver trouble and has been at the vets since Thursday night. So I've been calling and texting her to lend moral support. I know I would be a wreck if I had a pet who was sick. Yet another good reason not to have a pet I guess.
07 October 2005
The Old Double Standard
Why hijack someone else's blog when you have your own? hehehe
I don't have enough patience to be a social historian. I only tend to read things that interest me. When I get bored I skim or just watch television. So like many women of my generation and younger, I think I know all about the feminist movement, 'Our Bodies Ourselves', equal rights, etc. etc. But only in the way that I also know about things like World War II, or even Vietnam for that matter. I understand the basic principles, but I didn't live through it and the nuance is a bit lost on me.
My experience with growing up in a liberated generation was basically that I was told I could be or do anything that I wanted to be or do (of course this should be cross-referenced with what I think it means to be an American, but that's not the point of this particular entry). When I got to college, this translated into everyone I knew experimenting with their sexuality before it was run of the mill for everyone you knew to be 'a little bit bisexual'.
A friend of mine and I were talking about 'our numbers' the other day. I mean, how many people does one expect the average 30 year old today to have slept with? Now I felt my number was a bit low personally. And why? Because I based my idea of an average number based on the numbers that I either knew flat out or could tell from deduction from my friends. And my number is definitely on the low end. But then this friend of mine suggested what he thought of as an average number. And it was 1/4 what I thought of as an average number. And please note the gender of each person in this conversation. Me, the female, assumed that my friends and myself (mostly female) should have slept with four times as many people as my male friend thinks he should have slept with.
How does that work? Are men becoming prudes as women take ownership of their sexuality?
You often hear words get thrown around, in particular the dreaded 'slut'. What does that mean? Who decides when a number is too high? Or is it the number that matters at all? Maybe what it means is the behavior. We all know 'when you're sleeping with someone you're having sex with every person they have ever had sex with before you', and while that's true, it's really only mostly true if they are fucking retarded about their sexual behavior. Responsible sexual adults take care of their reproductive health. They get regular check-ups and they use protection. I think sometimes that line is a bit of bullshit to keep horny-toads in line. And I can see how horny-toads can be sluts. Because they are indiscriminate. Because they are sloppy. And lets face it, the majority of the general population are probably horny-toads, okay fair enough.
But a man, or a woman, who has a healthy sexual appetite? Who takes care of themselves and is responsible? 'Slut' is just a slander used by those who are either jealous or afraid. And yes, I say man or woman because I don't think there's a difference between the two. In fact, I tend to have far more respect for a predatorial woman than I do for a predatorial man. I'd be much more likely to call the man a slut than the woman. And maybe that's my own bias shining through. I have more respect for what I think is more difficult. How hard is it really for a good looking man to bed a plethora of women? Men are notorious for being able to distance their emotions from sex. That story is as old as the hills. But a good looking woman who is interested in having sex? Who is able to not fall prey to the 'weakness of her gender' and keep her shit together? That takes cahones my friend.
We're way past the time for gender standards. If you want to critique our hedonistic society, then that's cool. But it's kind of well past the time when we can still hold men and women to different kinds of standards of behavior. Don't you think?
I don't have enough patience to be a social historian. I only tend to read things that interest me. When I get bored I skim or just watch television. So like many women of my generation and younger, I think I know all about the feminist movement, 'Our Bodies Ourselves', equal rights, etc. etc. But only in the way that I also know about things like World War II, or even Vietnam for that matter. I understand the basic principles, but I didn't live through it and the nuance is a bit lost on me.
My experience with growing up in a liberated generation was basically that I was told I could be or do anything that I wanted to be or do (of course this should be cross-referenced with what I think it means to be an American, but that's not the point of this particular entry). When I got to college, this translated into everyone I knew experimenting with their sexuality before it was run of the mill for everyone you knew to be 'a little bit bisexual'.
A friend of mine and I were talking about 'our numbers' the other day. I mean, how many people does one expect the average 30 year old today to have slept with? Now I felt my number was a bit low personally. And why? Because I based my idea of an average number based on the numbers that I either knew flat out or could tell from deduction from my friends. And my number is definitely on the low end. But then this friend of mine suggested what he thought of as an average number. And it was 1/4 what I thought of as an average number. And please note the gender of each person in this conversation. Me, the female, assumed that my friends and myself (mostly female) should have slept with four times as many people as my male friend thinks he should have slept with.
How does that work? Are men becoming prudes as women take ownership of their sexuality?
You often hear words get thrown around, in particular the dreaded 'slut'. What does that mean? Who decides when a number is too high? Or is it the number that matters at all? Maybe what it means is the behavior. We all know 'when you're sleeping with someone you're having sex with every person they have ever had sex with before you', and while that's true, it's really only mostly true if they are fucking retarded about their sexual behavior. Responsible sexual adults take care of their reproductive health. They get regular check-ups and they use protection. I think sometimes that line is a bit of bullshit to keep horny-toads in line. And I can see how horny-toads can be sluts. Because they are indiscriminate. Because they are sloppy. And lets face it, the majority of the general population are probably horny-toads, okay fair enough.
But a man, or a woman, who has a healthy sexual appetite? Who takes care of themselves and is responsible? 'Slut' is just a slander used by those who are either jealous or afraid. And yes, I say man or woman because I don't think there's a difference between the two. In fact, I tend to have far more respect for a predatorial woman than I do for a predatorial man. I'd be much more likely to call the man a slut than the woman. And maybe that's my own bias shining through. I have more respect for what I think is more difficult. How hard is it really for a good looking man to bed a plethora of women? Men are notorious for being able to distance their emotions from sex. That story is as old as the hills. But a good looking woman who is interested in having sex? Who is able to not fall prey to the 'weakness of her gender' and keep her shit together? That takes cahones my friend.
We're way past the time for gender standards. If you want to critique our hedonistic society, then that's cool. But it's kind of well past the time when we can still hold men and women to different kinds of standards of behavior. Don't you think?
Huge Tonsils
I went to the doctor this morning. Two weeks after I first fell ill. The reality is, most of my illness has passed, but when I called to get an appointment on Tuesday, the earliest they would see me was Friday, so I felt on principal, I should still use my visit.
And really, I'm still not operating at 100%.
The doctor seemed to think I was simply suffering from a general cold brought on by being weakened by the flu, that is, until he looked in my mouth. "Your tonsils are huge." he said, "I think you have some tonsilitis."
'Huge' must be a fancy medical term. So I managed to get myself prescribed some penicillin for ten days. Eight pills a day, two at a go. I need to go get myself some friendly bacteria because I'm about to strip my body down of any little organism in there, the good the bad and the ugly.
I'm so happy that it's Friday and it's the weekend again. This evening I'm showing my flat to a prospective flatmate which should be interesting. She's the first one to call and ask about it, since I put my ad in Loot. I suspect I'll get a lot of calls on the weekend though. I want to do a major airing out and cleaning in my flat. Get rid of all the sickness buildup that happens when you're feeling icky. Broadway Market of course, and I'm hoping to see this gallery exhibit maybe. Of course I was also hoping to entice Mr.Aloof to come north, but the bastard has gone into hiding again. Such a roller coaster that one.
There are so many things rattling around in my head....
And really, I'm still not operating at 100%.
The doctor seemed to think I was simply suffering from a general cold brought on by being weakened by the flu, that is, until he looked in my mouth. "Your tonsils are huge." he said, "I think you have some tonsilitis."
'Huge' must be a fancy medical term. So I managed to get myself prescribed some penicillin for ten days. Eight pills a day, two at a go. I need to go get myself some friendly bacteria because I'm about to strip my body down of any little organism in there, the good the bad and the ugly.
I'm so happy that it's Friday and it's the weekend again. This evening I'm showing my flat to a prospective flatmate which should be interesting. She's the first one to call and ask about it, since I put my ad in Loot. I suspect I'll get a lot of calls on the weekend though. I want to do a major airing out and cleaning in my flat. Get rid of all the sickness buildup that happens when you're feeling icky. Broadway Market of course, and I'm hoping to see this gallery exhibit maybe. Of course I was also hoping to entice Mr.Aloof to come north, but the bastard has gone into hiding again. Such a roller coaster that one.
There are so many things rattling around in my head....
05 October 2005
Dry Climate
London is a much drier climate than anything I have ever lived in before. Having left the States, I find that many people don't really grasp exactly how hot and how humid a major part of the States gets. It is very common in summer all along the east coast, through the south and the midwest to reach 100% humidity.
So it struck me a bit, when I moved to London that when the humidity reached 60%, people thought it was humid. Really, it just isn't. Which is only a bit funny I suppose, because it rains a lot more here than most of the previous places I mentioned.
Anyway, the weather is changing and I'm still getting over my plague, and the latest thing to strike me is an uncontrollable itching all over. Although it started on the soles of my feet, can't really say why. Well, I'm hypothesizing why. I think it's the change in the weather and the fact that it's just so dry here. I think my skin is just... dry. And while I suffer from chronic skin problems which seem like dry skin, having overall dry body skin has never been something I had much of a problem with. Though I must say in general, my hair is lot less frizzy here.
Tomorrow after my shower I'm slathering on the baby oil. And I'm going to sleep with my feet slathered in lotion in little socks. I really can't stand this itching anymore.
...
In other news, my last post was a bit premature. Mr.Aloof and I were sending each other some rather risque messages back and forth today. Okay, he's still being a bit withdrawn and aloof, but he's definitely interested, and the latest and greatest plans are afoot.
I need to be getting well quick quick quick.
So it struck me a bit, when I moved to London that when the humidity reached 60%, people thought it was humid. Really, it just isn't. Which is only a bit funny I suppose, because it rains a lot more here than most of the previous places I mentioned.
Anyway, the weather is changing and I'm still getting over my plague, and the latest thing to strike me is an uncontrollable itching all over. Although it started on the soles of my feet, can't really say why. Well, I'm hypothesizing why. I think it's the change in the weather and the fact that it's just so dry here. I think my skin is just... dry. And while I suffer from chronic skin problems which seem like dry skin, having overall dry body skin has never been something I had much of a problem with. Though I must say in general, my hair is lot less frizzy here.
Tomorrow after my shower I'm slathering on the baby oil. And I'm going to sleep with my feet slathered in lotion in little socks. I really can't stand this itching anymore.
...
In other news, my last post was a bit premature. Mr.Aloof and I were sending each other some rather risque messages back and forth today. Okay, he's still being a bit withdrawn and aloof, but he's definitely interested, and the latest and greatest plans are afoot.
I need to be getting well quick quick quick.
04 October 2005
Struggle
Premonition is a rather tricky thing. When you get it right, you think you have a gift, when you get something wrong, you chalk it up to fate.
Sickness never happens at a particularly good time. There is no ideal time to be prisoner to the whims of your body and it's struggle with some micro-organism or another. And it is during these times, that whatever you think your life is, is thrown out the window in exchange for a very base and biology 101 sort of existence.
I have not enjoyed being sick, as no one else would either. However, my illness has been additionally plagued by two premeditative truths. First, I have lost an entire week of studying and my situation for taking my exams is becoming more and more dire. I need to start studying again, at this rate, I will probably not pass either of the two exams I want to take. And this bothers me tremendously, but not enough apparently, to find the motivation to improve myself.
Second, and more important to me and more personal, is how the situation with Mr.Aloof has been affected by this past week and a half. It's not entirely correct to suggest that I got ill and therefore things went bad. It is perhaps slightly less tangible than that. Mr.Aloof has been in a mood of late. And in fact, the week before I got ill, I had to muster up my energy to storm south of the river to snap him out of it briefly to just kick back and hang out, and that was good. All things considered, it's a tactic I would have done well to keep up with, had I not been struck by the hideous plague. So unfortunately, it's really just bad timing. Without intervention, Mr.Aloof has sunk into a deeper depression, and, lacking the ability to count on me, through no fault of my own, has withdrawn.
I got a serious brush off today.
If I was well, I'd be freaking out about it.
But without the energy to freak out, I think I'm just feeling a bit sad and defeated. I hope this isn't the end of me and Mr.Aloof. That would really, really suck.
Sickness never happens at a particularly good time. There is no ideal time to be prisoner to the whims of your body and it's struggle with some micro-organism or another. And it is during these times, that whatever you think your life is, is thrown out the window in exchange for a very base and biology 101 sort of existence.
I have not enjoyed being sick, as no one else would either. However, my illness has been additionally plagued by two premeditative truths. First, I have lost an entire week of studying and my situation for taking my exams is becoming more and more dire. I need to start studying again, at this rate, I will probably not pass either of the two exams I want to take. And this bothers me tremendously, but not enough apparently, to find the motivation to improve myself.
Second, and more important to me and more personal, is how the situation with Mr.Aloof has been affected by this past week and a half. It's not entirely correct to suggest that I got ill and therefore things went bad. It is perhaps slightly less tangible than that. Mr.Aloof has been in a mood of late. And in fact, the week before I got ill, I had to muster up my energy to storm south of the river to snap him out of it briefly to just kick back and hang out, and that was good. All things considered, it's a tactic I would have done well to keep up with, had I not been struck by the hideous plague. So unfortunately, it's really just bad timing. Without intervention, Mr.Aloof has sunk into a deeper depression, and, lacking the ability to count on me, through no fault of my own, has withdrawn.
I got a serious brush off today.
If I was well, I'd be freaking out about it.
But without the energy to freak out, I think I'm just feeling a bit sad and defeated. I hope this isn't the end of me and Mr.Aloof. That would really, really suck.
03 October 2005
Halfway and Climbing
I have a small remembrance of who I actually am. I feel a good giant step back towards my normal snarky self. Though I'm not all there yet. The real reason for this post being I can't stomach seeing that image of soup flash up when I check on my blog. See, the night I ate the soup, I woke up at three in the morning and vomited air for a good five minutes, but my body kept thinking eventually there would be soup (there wasn't). *shudder*
In general, I feel better, except I feel weak. And of course the reason I feel weak, is that I'm not eating correctly. I'm still force feeding myself mild things three times a day and barely stomaching these encounters.
Still, it has all stayed down and I do feel a bit better, so all on the up and up I say.
I'm going to go to work tomorrow. Take it easy. See how it goes. Don't overdo it. Drink lots of fluids. Make sure I come home right after and get plenty of rest.
Oh. And remember to eat.
Blah.
In general, I feel better, except I feel weak. And of course the reason I feel weak, is that I'm not eating correctly. I'm still force feeding myself mild things three times a day and barely stomaching these encounters.
Still, it has all stayed down and I do feel a bit better, so all on the up and up I say.
I'm going to go to work tomorrow. Take it easy. See how it goes. Don't overdo it. Drink lots of fluids. Make sure I come home right after and get plenty of rest.
Oh. And remember to eat.
Blah.
01 October 2005
Relearning
I am really sick of being sick.
My latest mission?
Remembering how to eat.
I feel like my system is completely and totally out of fucking wack.
I'll have more to say when I'm better.
My latest mission?
Remembering how to eat.
I feel like my system is completely and totally out of fucking wack.
I'll have more to say when I'm better.
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