Land of light and shadow.

There’s a lot I could be doing right now. In fact, there's I lot I NEED to be doing and yet I'm sitting here typing. It happens like that sometimes. I can start the day full of promise, hope and energy, only to have it drain suddenly, almost inexplicably away. My mood crashes, leaving me cranky, unfocused, devoid of drive or enthusiasm, or sometimes, practically immobilized.

By the same token. The opposite happens as well. I can start the day glowering at the world through desolate and exhausted eyes, only to have a mid-day turn around, with a rush of enthusiasm and energy, and finish the day in high spirits.

Depending on the environment, my moods can change in a chameleon-like manner, ebbing and flowing like an emotional tide while I try to maintain an outer appearance of equilibrium. Most of the time, it works.

Fortunately, I have the day off so I don't even have to bother about keeping up appearances for customers and co-workers. Of course, at one point today, I know that I have to go to the dentist, and then pick up a new shower faucet, (That is, if I want to take a shower later on) but aside from that, I think I'll just stay here, pace back and forth, type a sentence or so, and go back to pacing.

The shades are drawn, and I am here, in the shadows, where I will wait until my inner lights switches back on.

(Un)Settling in

For me, the year 2014 ended the same way it began; With a quick, unplanned move, to a new location, that gave very little time in which to acquire housing, and even less for the logistics of the thing. It was almost serendipitous that I was able to stumble across this quiet quiet little 55 and older, mobile home park and the small, cheap place that I eventually moved into. I jumped on it, as soon as I saw it, and within just a few days of sighting it, I was packed up and moved in. I found the place on December 26th and completely ensconced by January 1st, 2015.

This sort of thing has happened before. In fact, I have moved five times In the past ten years, and in spite of the work, expense and inconvenience involved with it, I have always managed to settle into the new routine very quickly and pick up where I left off in my new environment. That is, until this time.

This last move has left me feeling rather unsettled, even after being here for almost five months. This feeling was, at first, very difficult for me to quantify. If I had to call it anything, I think that transient comes closest. It's almost like living in a house of cards, that is trembling in the stuff breeze of reality, ready collapse at any moment. I mentioned it in an email to a friend, and she suggested that as I put work, and effort into my new place, making it it my own, that I would feel better about it. She is right, of course, and yet there is more to it than that.

After thinking on it for awhile, the thing has begun to crystallize in my mind. It is finally hitting home that I have more of my life behind me, than in front of me. Perhaps this is, in part, related to my new environment, because being surrounded by so many retirees, (I hate to think of them as old) I have become acutely aware of the onward press of time. I used to think of the future in stretches of 20 years, and it all seemed to be so far away. Now, I can easily remember things from 20 or more years ago as fairly recent events, and have discovered that the space two decades is really a frightfully short period of time. I am no longer looking to the future. This *IS* the future, and It feels to me like time is growing short.

In addition, whereas other moves have always seemed like I was on my to some new adventure, (even when circumstances spoke to the contrary) this one feels like a move of retrenchment... A reduction in living standards in order to help someone, who is in real need of assistance. After all the years of hard work, this is the position that I find myself in; With retirement age looming and working just as hard as I ever have, there is so little to show for the effort, all the while, staring into the black chasm of an uncertain future. It has become a time of lowered expectations and increasingly limited options.

It was even suggested to me, by one friend, that the best thing to get me "over the hump" would be to "drop everything, party, find a young girl, and fuck like a bunny... ". However, I somehow managed to find that to be a bit of completely worthless "advice". This has nothing to do with recapturing my youth, proving that I "still have it", (not that I ever thought I did) or any other such thing. If anything, just the opposite is happening. I am turning inward and feeling a lot less inclined to want to socialize.

My friends, in the kink community, know me as being a submissive, but the way things sit at the moment even the thought of starting any type of relationship is just not on the table right now.

I fully intend to keep working, planning, and looking at how to best move forward into the future. I'll keep on making the best of what I've got, while grabbing for those little jewels of happiness that I find along the path. As always, I will adapt and try to think of this as yet another new beginning, rather than a last stand.

Submissive thinking – Part 1

I squirmed involuntarily as the flogger slammed down on my back. It wasn't the heavy impact, (I rather liked the weight of it... The way it almost reverberated in my lungs) but when the lashes would reach around and leave a stinging kiss on the soft flesh round my ribs and thighs, I would grunt and shudder a bit. Still, even though not a masochist, I can't say that it was an unpleasant experience.

Having never been to a play party before, I was invited to a one, by a very sweet and considerate Domme, in order to get a taste of what it was like. There were two Dommes and three subs, (including me) there. The company was grand! There was fun and lively conversation among us and a dinner, prepared, served, and cleaned up after by us subs. I couldn't have hoped for a better evening and even though I was given permission to skip out on any of the play that I didn't wish to participate in, I chose not to. I really liked the bondage part a lot but found the bound and blindfolded part a bit scary. A light touch provided more of a start than I thought it would, as I never knew where it was coming from. I won't go into detail here but suffice it to say that I had a good time.

It took a few days for me to really internalize the evening, and in spite of having a good time, and meeting some real nice people, in the end, I decided that what I'd just done was not submission.

In retrospect, the biggest missing element was the lack of any emotional involvement, or investment. The overall effect was as though I was simply playing a role in an elaborate parody of a femdom porn movie. The after dinner play went on for an hour or so and at no time did I feel anything more than interested detachment. It was a cool experiment but nothing more.

For me, submission is not defined be kink, or acts of service. Rather, it is a romantic relationship where the Domme is the one who leads. Quite a simple idea, yet probably much harder than I make it sound. My “job”, so to speak, would be to do those things that would make her happy. Taken to a higher level, it would be to get to know her well enough that I would be able to anticipate her needs in advance and fill them before being asked to do so. I was at a munch a few weeks after that play night and I overheard a very young Domme saying how much she liked to “order boys around”. I could hardly think of a more dismal existence than having a committed relationship with someone who would order me about because it's what she likes to do.

As a submissive, I want to be able to do things that make her smile, laugh, swoon, and feel loved, safe and secure. I want be a reliable a partner who will do her bidding and be the wind beneath her wings. I want to celebrate with her when she's happy, encourage her dreams and aspirations, and comfort her when she is in need. If she has an interest in kink, or desires certain types of service, so be it, and while I do have hard limits, (blood, needles, feces, and such) I would be willing to discuss various types of play and try to push outside of my comfort zone.I can't say that I even have any particular kink list due to having very limited experience with it.

I know that kink plays an important role in many in D/s relationships, but for me it is not essential... Fun perhaps, but nothing to base a relationship on. For me, random play just doesn't do it. Kink, and/or service, of and by themselves, do not mean submission to me. They are tools to be employed as needed, in order to make someone that I am deeply committed to, happy.

In a moment

February 1974: It happened so fast. Looking back on it now, I suppose I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. That's what happens when you don't know your own mind as well as you should and it only took a moment to make a bad decision.

It was late on a frigid winter night when I dropped my girlfriend off and started the drive back home. I was driving down a long, wide, tree lined boulevard and it was during one of those times when I was in the depths of a deep and dark depression. I couldn't really point to an exact reason why. It's just something that happens from time to time, and it was on that street, at that very moment, that I was moved to act.

I punched the accelerator to the floor, and spun the steering wheel to the left, taking aim at a clump of oak trees that were just down the road a bit. The car lunged forward as the rear wheels dug in for traction. However, just before impact, the car hit a patch of ice and began to slide sideways. The loss of both traction and control scrubbed off speed and made me miss my intended target. Instead, I slid past, just missing it, hit a glancing blow off a snow bank, and slammed into a tree just beyond where I had been aiming.

I just sat there for a while, bleeding from the nose and forehead, staring through the shattered windshield, at the smashed frond end of my car, with the steam billowing out and curling up into the night sky. It took a little while to come to the realization of what had just happened and I remembered my shock at how I could have done such an impulsive thing on a whim. Naturally, I made up a bullshit excuse of how I “lost control” of the car because I didn't want anyone to know that I had tried to do myself in and even worse, failed miserably in the attempt. In time, my private humiliation passed and I put the thing behind me, rarely thinking about it anymore.

It was the tragic and untimely death of Robin Williams that got me to thinking about it again. While no one will ever know what was going through his mind in those last few moments of life, I can understand how such a thing can happen.

Depression is about feeling isolated and hopeless, but it does not necessarily mean that you feel unloved, alone, or unwanted. You can be in a room full of loving friends and family yet, when the fog of depression falls like an impenetrable shroud, you can no longer see them. Depression is a deceptive thing that has you believing things that simply are not so. It also brings into sharp focus all of the hurts and failures of the past and catastrophizes the future, while leaving the present as just another long day that must be plodded through on the road to nowhere. Depression can feed on itself, resulting in a downward spiral that will leave life dangling by the delicate thread known as the human survival instinct.

That's when it happens. Something (and it could be anything from a bad medical diagnosis to a relatively minor frustration) comes along and finally snaps that last thread. Everything that has happened in the past leads up to that final moment, when the cool quiet of oblivion seems preferable to being alive. It's that moment when isolation and hopelessness have overcome the will to survive and the rope is stretched, the wheel is turned, the trigger is pulled. It could be a completely spontaneous act, done in the heat of the moment, because the consequences no longer matter. It brings to mind the words of a Lyle Lovett song:

"You can make just one mistake,
And it can take you to your grave, honey
One bad move can turn your world upside down
It's such a shame 'cause you've been so good up to now"

I *HAVE* been good since that one time so long ago, but still have to fight the impulse more than I'd like to admit to myself. Fortunately, I know my mind a lot better than I did back then but still, when I read about the suicide of one so prominent, I am reminded of how vulnerable I am and that I need to carefully guard my own mind. Someone reading this may read it and simply not be able to understand how such things can happen. That's OK because I really don't understand it myself.

Notes on a crush

I can hardly believe it's been almost five years. My crushes usually last only a few weeks or months at most, so you know this one is highly unusual, and at least to me, very special.

If she sees this, I'm fairly certain she will know that it's about her. She knows about how I feel so it's not a big thing and I'm pretty sure she's OK with it too. Of course, she also has a bad memory so may not remember that I told her.

What first attracted me was her words. Her ability to put her thoughts down with such clarity, cleverness, intelligence, and wisdom had me hooked right away and the better I got to know her the more impressed I have become. She is also as attractive physically as she is mentally.

She makes me feel smarter, younger, better looking, and sexier that I really am and I find myself not wanting to disappoint her. I enjoy even the most mundane communications from her. She has always been open, honest and encouraging. I love the attention.

She doesn't crush on me the way I do on her and that's just fine. If she did, it would be a relationship, as opposed to a mere crush and it would have most likely ended a long time ago. I am quite content the way things are right now.

Naturally, having never lived with her before, there are many things I don't know about her and so my imagination must fill in the blank spots. I choose to fill them in with good things, and so while it may not be entirely realistic, It's what I choose to do... Hey! It's MY crush!

I had a friend tell me that a long distance crush is a waste of time and that it could keep me from “finding someone”. I disagree. First of all, our interactions make me happy. She has been a very welcome addition to my life. Secondly, as far as not “finding someone” goes. Of course I keep looking, and if I ever do, meet that someone special, she will be one of the first I tell, and she'll be happy for me. Above all things, we've become friends.

I've blogged about the before, and I have no problem with being in the “Friend Zone”. Truth be told, think it's a wonderful thing for a crush to mellow into a long term and mutually beneficial friendship. That is just how I see this one going.

(Not) At her service

I was reading this blog post by Dumb Domme, in which she makes a very salient point on the difference between “domestic servitude”, and “housework”. I won't recapitulate the article here, as I think you would be better served by reading it yourself, (Really, you should do that... Go ahead, I'll wait) but it did give me pause to think of how, if at all it applies to my present circumstance. Here I am, a submissive man with a female room mate, and I do the vast majority of the housework. I do most of the cooking, cleaning, pay the bills and car maintenance on both vehicles in addition to working full time so at first glance, it might look as though I am trying to be a “good domestic servant”. The reality of the situation however, is far different

Back story

I used to live with the person who is now my room mate, in a very vanilla and quite conventional relationship. We both worked full time, so it was only natural that we split the mundane business of “housework” between us and it stayed that way for most of the 13 years we were together. Neither of us considered it to be a labor of service to each other. Love didn't mean having a clean toilet, nor did either of us do it in order to make each other happy. It was just shit that had to be done. Of course, that wasn't all we did together. In fact, when we weren't working, we spent practically every waking moment together. It was suggested by more than a couple of friends that were were co-dependent and perhaps it was so. We had completely build out lives around each other, but it wasn't until the relationship had entered it's terminal phase that I started learning about D/s and discovered my submissive side so it was never a factor.

The New Normal

Now, after having been pushed back into the same living space by circumstances, I can say without equivocation that there is nothing whatsoever submissive about my doing of the “invisible labor”. I'm not doing it to make her happy, nor am I hoping to get any favors, sexual or otherwise from her. I have no need to win favor or earn rewards, nor do I consider her to be in any way to be in a superior position.

Rather, it is my way of establishing my own independence and maintaining a measure of distance between us. We are no longer the co-dependent team we once were and I have no desire to go back to the time when we were. In the years since I've been on my own, I have developed my own way of doing things and see no reason to change them. This is not to say that there is no compromise, or that I don't welcome both suggestions or help, but it is my intention that she heal, regain her independence and eventually move on.

When I think of submissive service, I don't think about cooking, and cleaning, (Although I would happily do it if asked) but I think about doing sweet, unexpected, and romantic things. I would not expect to be praised or in any way rewarded to doing regular household maintenance. If I was no longer working and had a full time live-in agreement with a Domme, it would be fulfilling an agreed upon role.

For what it's worth, after being back on my own, again I'm not in any rush to live with anyone again. Not only that, but I am used to working and taking care of my own basic needs and it would take a great deal of trust for me to put my financial and personal security into the hands of someone else. Circumstances can always change and I am always open to new ideas, but at least for now, and for the foreseeable future, I will be doing all my own "invisible labor".

Confessions of a bad guy

I think it's only natural that most of us like to consider ourselves to be basically good people. Sure, we may make mistakes from time to time, but we are still on the side of the angels. Since breaking my ankle a couple of weeks ago, I've been stuck in my apartment, with nothing but time to think about stuff like that.

I was remembering all of those times when I'd been disabled or had to visit the emergency room for one reason or another and there have been quite a few. In trying to put them in the proper historical perspective, I also stared thinking about other life events that were happening at the same time as those things. After mulling it over for a while, I've come to the conclusion that I have not been nearly as close to the angels as I have always thought I was.

You see, I have this opportunistic streak and after getting into a tight spot, I've been known to use extra legal means to extricate myself from it. Not that I would prey on little old ladies or steal from family and friends, (or even strangers, for that matter) but I still would do whatever I had to do in order to get my needs met. Because I didn't hold a gun, and rob people, I didn't think it was so bad. It was just stuff that had come from big warehouses, or was grown in somebodies “garden” so I thought of it as a sort of victimless criminality where nobody got hurt. Don't get me wrong, I always felt terrible afterward and swore that “this would be the last time” but that last time never seemed to come.

It started while still in my late teens, and into my early 20s, after earning the trust of a few guys who lived outside the law, and I was able to earn extra cash, fuel, weed, or whatever in exchange for doing the occasional “favor” for them. It usually involved transporting goods that had “fallen off the truck” somewhere. On occasion, it was marijuana, although I was always real careful not to carry too much at any one time. Even during my years in the cult, I maintained a couple of contacts on the outside because hey, you never know.

After leaving the cult in 1995, (OK, they threw me out) I got arrested after getting into trouble while trying to earn some cash to help a friend save his business. (No, I don't want to share the details)There was not enough evidence so they had to let me go and ever since then, I've been trying my best to remain on the straight and narrow.

The thing is, I don't know that I entirely trust myself to stay that way. Although in my favor, when everything fell apart during the housing crisis in 2008 I worked lots of overtime, paid off who I could, before being forced into bankruptcy, and I didn't fall back on that old “anything goes” pattern. Still, the urge is there and when it gets strong, I need to remind myself that there is no such thing as a victimless crime. Even if I get clean away with stealing a million dollars from someone who will never even know it's gone, there will still be two victims: my character, and self respect. Perhaps, by maintaining that perspective, I'll be able to move a little closer to the angels.