Waves

"Damn that is cold" - Me, circa 1985, stepping in to Grand Traverse bay on Lake Michigan.

What's funny about that statement, is that I've repeated it so many times when stepping in to Michigan or Huron. (Lord knows you don't swim in Lake Superior) And yet, I always continue walking into the water of the Great Lakes, feeling the waves crash into me, eventually standing with my back to them, letting them catch me and carry me to where they will. Hopefully, and most often to the shore. Where I stand for a moments shivering before turning, and wading back into the waters of my childhood, and more than likely my future.

I got to sea the ocean last year. It was the first time I stood in salt water. And it was beautiful. And I could imagine myself lying on those waves the same as the waves of my childhood. So similar and yet different. (and damn if it wasn't just as cold)

Yes, I do have a point, I'm just being verbose and full of imagery ... sue me, its my blog.

There is this deep need in me. I can go days, sometimes weeks without feeling its force. Not that it isn't always there. It is. I'm even aware of it. In those times it is subtle. Lying in wait just underneath my skin. Ready to surface at any time, rising through of the layers of everyday life.

When it hits, though, it is not unlike stepping into those cold waters. You love it, fear it, hate it, relish it, feel it resonate in all of your bones. It is in a word definitive. It propels you to jump in regardless of the waves.

and just like waves, the more you fight them the harder it is. Swimming against them is impossible, it takes your breath away. But riding them, :sigh: you are swept in a magnicent journey that can be scary and wonderful all at once.

Here is the rub though .... riding the waves is a delirious, joyous, fearful thing. You give control over to something wild and wonderful. The wave can carry you laughing or crying back to shore depending on the day, or the pull of the moon. It may decide to lull you to sleep, or to send you crashing in to shore. But lets be clear, stepping in to the waters is not a decision. Its already been made for me. It was carefully contstructed in to my psyche to crave those waters as part of my life ... my existence. I gave myself over to that long ago. It is a built in ache that can crash through the surface of my existence at any time.

The scary part is when you realize that while you need the wave .... the ride, the thrill, the abandon of control, the fear, ... the unknown ..........


The wave doesn't need you.

Courage vs Cowardice

“Courage is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.” - Winston Churchill

If that is truly the definition, then I'm a terribly courageous person.


Have you ever faced a situation where you truly didn't know if how you reacted / acted was courageous or cowardice?

I've been away from blogging for several months. I've in fact strayed from writing anything, and that is more than likely cowardice. Writing forces me to face things I don't like about myself. Or rather, forces me to push away the things that keep me from writing in the first place. I've never been confident that the words that trickle out of my head are really worth anything, let alone be good enough to share. Is it now courage that brings me back to blog land? Nah, not really. I still don't think anything that I write here will be all that great. But, it will be a place that's mine again. Where the words and ideas that float around my gray matter will find another home.

So if that's cowardice, is there anything in my life that I could count as courageous? I used to believe that sticking by my loved ones was, if not courageous, at least admirable. Loyal and faithful friend to the end, that's me. So despite being used and hurt, I used to think that it took some amount of courage to stick by someone.

Then I realized that to let myself be in that position. Where a friend or loved one continuously hurt me is not courageous. It isn't even admirable. Its cowardice. Its me believing that my own feelings are not equal to that of the other persons, and even more so, its me being afraid that I'm not worth being treated better. And sometimes, its even being afraid that the other person will leave me.

But that's another post.

Another Letter to You

Dear Master -

How does it feel to know you hold my heart in your hand? To know that with a small word or phrase you can shatter me in to so many pieces? What does it feel like? What does it mean to have that kind of power over someone? And does it mean more than your power is over an intelligent, strong woman? Does it mean that much more?

You see, I sit and blog and contemplate my feelings and the things I get out of being your pet, your whore ...

But often, like today, I ponder what is in it for you. I am neurotic, over sensitive, and generally a pain in the ass a lot of the time. And quite frankly, I wonder why you even bother. You have so much more in your life.

I am so grateful for all that you've done for me. You are an amazing person, and I'm lucky to call you friend, as well as Master. You have taught me how to feel the most amazing things ... even now, when I haven't even heard your voice today, just the thought of it, makes me tingle. Your laugh warms me, your intelligence lights my life, and your command sends me toward ecstacy.

With love beyond reason -

~your pet

On being a burden

It is one of the feelings I struggle with most. I often feel that if I express a need, or make a request of someone that I'm being a burden.

Funny how I don't feel the same in reverse. I don't think of my friends (except for 1) and loves as burdens.

But, I absolutely cannot ask for something for myself without feeling like 1.) I don't deserve it 2.) that I'm being burdensome 3.) that I don't deserve it ... oh wait, I said that twice.

Selp help books and guru's say that you should take time to express your desires, your wants, and needs. That everyone needs something that is there own in the world.

Why does it seem so impossible for me to do that? And yet, I can give others that for themselves.

Empathy & Pain

"You, my dear, cry for the pains of a thankless world. That makes your tears both all the more precious and all the more wasted." - The one I call Master & Friend

It has been said about the sign of Pisces that we have an innate ability to feel immense compassion, to the point of feeling another's pain, and being able to place ourselves into that person's shoes. To, me, this is certainly true. There is no real pride in that statement, or bragging. In my life, its just a fact. I can feel another's pain. I also take it on myself as if it were my own.

The idea of pain as a release has been clunking in my brain a lot lately, and I realized something ... a brief ephiphany, if you will.

I've always thought of pain given to me in a sexual situation, be it physical or emotional sense as something that let me release any pain I harbored inside. As the years have went on, it seems that I crave this more and more.

It occured to me that maybe my need for this type of release is not just to release my own pain ... but to release the pain that I take on for everyone else too. And, it made perfect sense to me.

You see, as much as I don't want them to, my tears all too often feel wasted. As if my compassion & empathy are used and then discarded. But it doesn't stop me from caring, and trying. I hurt for the people I love, and don't take time to feel my own hurt. Then when I do, I shut down completely.

This is turned into more of a ramble than I wanted it to. Maybe I need to think it through some more, but I do know that I'm tired of wasted tears. I wish for someone to find them precious.

Halloween

When I was a kid, I loved Halloween. Looking back, I know it is because it let me be anything other than what I was. I could be prettier, stronger, more glamorous, and as I got older sexier.

It let me be a fantasy. Escape into another world. One where I wasn't shy. Wasn't the kid with the out of control curls, and the hand me down clothes.

My list of costumes certainly reflects that ... Snow White, Princess Leia, Cleopatra, a Cat, and of course, being the 80s, a fabulous punk rocker.

I realized when I woke up today, that I still love Halloween. I wish that today I could shed myself and become something else. Something ... well, the same things I wished when I was a kid.

I suppose its sad really, wishing to be a fantasy. But somedays, its better than looking in the mirror. So tomorrow, maybe I'll try to wake up and accept who I am, maybe even appreciate who I've become. But today, I think I'll lose myself in a fantasy.

Letters to Mon Maitre

Dear Master,

Ah, but you did not know I would write directly to you ... surprise.

I wonder if you get tired of this, of me. Of how much I want you. Especially, these days when my cunt is throbbing for your voice. Your thick hard cock. When my day is interrupted by thoughts of being your utterly depraved whore.

Do you tire of that? Of hearing it? Should I keep it to myself?

But, it is so delicious and terrible. That feeling of being utterly devoted to waiting until you say so. That delicious twitch in my cunt that is begging to be scratched. That terrible feeling of wondering what you are doing, and who you are doing it with. Of hoping that you spare me a thought ... or a dream.

The longing to be anything you want me to be. Wanting to beg, and plead. Needing that pat on the head for being a good girl.

Yes. Delicious + Terrible = Bliss.

With my love,

votre putain