 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
gggaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrghhhhhrrllllkkkkkck!!!
Okay, that felt a bit better.
It's odd that since I "disconnected" back in February I really don't have a place to vent and rant. I have my paper journal, but somehow that doesn't seem right for ranting; just observations and thoughts and whatnot. At least happier or deeper thoughts.
Things have been both more and less stressful lately. Kind of an odd statement I know, but that's how it feels. Some things are more, some are less.
Work, obviously, is more stressful. Since we’ve cut back overtime my paychecks have been lighter than I would prefer, and since a co-worker basically talked himself out of a job a lot of new duties have fallen to me to do. There’s also this kind of feeling of “We need to show them how much we’re worth… so get cracking on making every single thing better. NOW!” So I end up running around like a headless chicken trying to do four things at once. Until the inevitable lag sets in at the end of the day; where of course I’m observed just sitting there trying to regain my wits. So it looks like a lot of stuff has gotten done, but my office-bound overlords don’t see me actually DOING it. I think they think I’m some kinda magic shoe-elf or something. I understand the motto “You never get caught doing something good”, but it can be a little nerve-wracking at time.
I truly like my job, and love being good at my job. I know it’s “wrong” to base one’s self-image on their employment, but feel competent is something that was ingrained in me, and something I’m not sure I want to ditch. Oftentimes I just wish that I wasn’t the only person who felt this way. I feel like I’m working my tail off and everyone else is just along for the ride.
Relationship wise it’s kind of the same. A lot of good has been happening on the relationship front; a couple of good girls who I am very much in love with, some new friends to have fun and adventure with, reconnecting with some old friends, even one or two playmates. There are still some old wounds from past relationships, but their sting seems to be lessening over time… until some memory or thing dredges it all back up, and sometimes the wounds hurt all over again. I’ve been trying to walk a line between being cold and armored, and trying to open my heart and mind. The problem with being armored is that you spend so much time feeling alone and you miss out on some really good stuff in life. The problem with being open is that it lets things slip through your defenses and you get stung all over again.
As for the kinky stuff, that is also coming along I guess. Working with sara I am really getting back into the swing of things, pardon the pun. I am learning and growing more as a “Dom”. We’ve been going out to some play parties lately and I’m even working on my public shtick which is nice. I’ve even learned some new tricks like rope work, fire play, and flogging. Caning is next on the list. I’ve even made some, very careful, forays into re-connecting with my sub side. There are still very few people I trust fully enough for that, but every once in awhile it’s nice to throw off the yolk of being in charge all the time. One thing I’ve learned is that anyone who tells you they are “Constantly Dominant” or “Totally 24/7” is either a liar or an idiot on the road to Burnoutville. Been there, done that, got the ulcer.
I really wish I could write more (ironic huh?). I’ve just felt really blocked up for some reason. Except for a few throw-away little erotica pieces I really haven’t accomplished much with my art. For me, writing longer stories is very cathartic, kinda like hanging out with my imaginary friends, like I always say. I guess lately they just haven’t wanted to come out and play. Getting my Writing Laptop back (even if the Internet on it won’t work right now) is helping a bit, and I hope that will continue. So many good stories in my head, they just don’t have the desire to spill out onto the page.
I’d like to be more productive and “crafty” in general. I have a few projects that I want to work on, but can just never seem to get the desire and the time at the same point. I always want to work on them, and am the most creative about them, when I’m not in a position to actually do anything about it. I’m starting to wonder if it’s some kind of self-demolition mechanism at work.
On that note, I’ve had a better grasp lately. I’m not having the memory lapses and the panic-attacks near as often now. I think I actually work better when I’m under stress. Prayer and meditation is helping (Dan’quot Kien-Tag!) greatly. I can’t seem to walk away from myself, but I can choose, with enough effort and will, to decide which parts to listen to.
Wow, I think that’s enough for now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hello there to all my imaginary friends, and adoring spammbotts,
It's that happy time again, the celebration of Cael'Kien'Dor'a... or however you spell it. A time known to those kids in the know as the "Day of Remembrance". For us, it is a time of reflection where we pick someone or something that has passed and give respect to it's memory and sometimes mourn it's passing.
So this year, what am I going to Mourn? Will it be someone; a friend who has fallen or past from my life? Will it be a thing; a beloved trinket that I have lost or has been destroyed? Perhaps a concept; like Human Achievement, or respect for a time long past?
These things are always tricky for me. I know I should have posted this a week ago, but it's been giving me some trouble. I would really like for this year's Remembrance to be something special. I dunno why, but lately I have felt both more distant and closer to my spiritual self than I have in awhile. While my observance of strict ritual has fallen somewhat to the wayside, I believe that as I have begun to Seek that I am adhering closer to the tenants that our Spiritual Fathers have left for us.
So perhaps, I think that the choosing is as big a part as the Remembrance itself. Maybe it helps us to honor and respect that which we take into ourselves and hold dear. As we carry the things that have gone away, they will live on, in us and through us, and we will be enriched for it.
Hopefully this year will be the best one yet!
-Grinner Twomoons
Guardian Emeritus,
Family of the Valorous Shield,
The Scales that Balance,
Chooser and Decider of Ways,
House of the Wendingo Hunter
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hello there to all my imaginary friends,
One of the things that I really love doing is riding my bike. Either one, although lately I've been preferring the Sabre of the K1200, it just cruises better. Granted, the K1200 is far superior in the "Oh man, I'm going 140 miles per hour, ho-HAA!" department. Normally I enjoy just getting out on the road and traveling somewhere, don't really care where. As the Prophet once said, "To is not as important as from".
There really is nothing else like it, the open road; wind in your face, the sense of exhilaration, the feeling of power and freedom. I really like having someone snuggled up behind me, that's a really great and secure feeling. Oddly enough, I really don't like being a passenger on a bike. I guess I'm just too used to being the one in control.
I hope to be able to go on a longer trip very soon, either San Diego for the afternoon, or to Stateline for an overnight. Overall I'd like to do the longer Stateline run, but it's a lot more expensive and will take an entire weekend. Maybe I should do it on one of my long weekends.. hmmm...
When I'm on the back of a bike, I feel free. Like I can go anywhere or do anything. The world just seems to make more sense. Even on the short trip home seems too short. I like to ride without listening to music, it seems to take away from the experience somehow. Maybe I'll experiment with it on a longer trip.
Also, I hope to be putting some of the bling I got for the Sabre actually ON the bike this weekend. Gonna be all cool and biker looking. I also got about 80% of the parts I need to fix the K1200, so it should be back on the road this weekend too. Yea me!
Yeah, I really need to get out and ride more.
Myrtle Protects,
-Uncle Andy
Proud member of S.M.U.T.L.U.V.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hello there to all my imaginary friends,
Had a weird dream last night/this morning. It was a little different than my normal dreams, mostly because it didn't involve me getting cacked in some really terrible manner.
The dream started off with me walking down this kind of walkway through a tunnel kind of thing. I came out of the tunnel into this kind of bar. It was vaguely reminiscent of the Canteena scene in Star Wars. The place was dark and smokey, and filled with all manner of strange people/things. The walls were weird, one was made of ivy covered stone, one was shiny metal like the hull of a spaceship, and another was made of shifting blocks of color. There were too many walls and too many angles for a normal room to have. I twigged pretty quick that I was dreaming, and the first thing I did was to check to see if I had my Ring on. It was there, and it's warm comforting glow let me know that things were going to be at least okay.
After taking stock of myself I noticed that I also had a sabre and pistol belted around my waist, and a black cloth patch covered the whole in my head where my eye used to be. For some reason I felt it's loss more acutely than normal, like the implant wasn't even in there. There was metal in my face, like piercings, but I couldn't find a mirror to check. Apart from that I was dressed pretty normal in my boots, jeans, t-shirt and my favorite vest. I didn't have my glasses on, but don't think I was wearing my contact lense either because my remaining eye didn't feel dry and itchy like it normally does when I have it in.
I briefly considered turning back and going out the way I came to see if I would wake up, but the path behind me felt very cold, freezingly so. I decided to press on and see what this dream brought me. After my eye became accustomed to the gloom I noticed that a lot of the bar's patrons were familiar to me, if a little different. For those of you I've discussed my dreams with before, you'll note that my dreams are usually populated by strangers and phantoms. Even if, in the logic of the dream, the person is someone I've known for years or even is related to me; they'll still be someone my subsconsious has invented. Particullarly if they're trying to rip my heart out, or are slowly vivisecting the muscles in my arm.
The bar was crowded, but of the ones I recognized, nobody was quite as I recall them. Kelly was sitting with Jessica and Kasey playing poker with some dogs, like in that velvet painting; she winked at me when I came in and tipped her cowgirl hat. Stephanie was keeping well back from the card players, her kitty ears twitching but never approaching too closely David was hustling bottles too and from the rear of the bar, acting as a bar-back, his heels clicking on the tile. C was sitting with some fancy-girls watching people play pool; she was wearing an elaborate green dress and green feathers were woven into her hair while she idly scratched my sygil into the top of a table. Brian sat apart from everyone, watching from under the collar of his coat, his hair fanned out like the mane of a lion. Debbie sat under a parisol, sipping champagne and wearing a baret. I saw Michael sitting by himself at a table; at first I thought he was eating a meal, but apon closer inspection I saw that he was cutting up a still beating heart with a knife and fork while trying to cover a gaping wound in his chest. John was standing next to a broken jukebox that Seth was trying to sing along with, John was wearing an oversized coat and staring at nothing, sometimes he would giggle to himself. There were a few others, but those are the ones that stood out to me.
Dawn and Nicole sat with a circle of friends at a corner table, they were wearing armor made from emerald green leather and furs. I approached their table and asked, "You looking to mess someone up?" Nicole responded, "Only you, if you mess something up, Poppabear." and laughed. I shrugged and headed for the bar. The bartender was a large man with six arms and the head of a walrus, he asked, "What're you drinking?"
"The weight of ages" I replied. He frowned as only a walrus can and placed a tall glass in front of me. It was filled with a murky brown liquid, with currents of orange in it. It seemed to swirl around, and had a little foam on the top. I smelled it, but it had no odor at all. I set it back down on the bar and looked around.
"Someone's been asking about you, cutter." A voice from the stool next to me said. It had been empty a moment before, but now she was there. For those I've discussed my dreams in depth with, you know who she is. I haven't seen her for a long time in my dreams, and haven't heard her speak in a really loooong time.
"What does he want?" I asked, turning to face her. I can't remember what she was wearing, but she was a blonde this time.
"Didn't say, said you'd know." She shrugged and sipped her drink from a purple bottle.
"Doesn't he always." I sighed and headed towards the back of the bar.
I found his table at the back of a small rise. There was a large badger sitting in front of him keeping an eye on the crowd and eating silver beetles from a large mug. The badger winked at me as I approached and shifted her bulk to let me by. I knew immediatly how this was going to go.
I found him sitting at a booth with his back to the wall. He smiled up at me and motioned for me to sit. Of course he had my face, but it was a younger face, smoother, with two bright eyes shining up at me. I hung my sabre and pistol on the edge of the booth and sat across from him.
"I bet you're wondering why I asked you here?" He said with a slight chuckle.
"A seeker never wonders, only discovers the Universe in all it's wonder." I replied. Words I had not spoken alound in almost fifteen years.
"Of course, of course." He said, "But I know you're still curious. You can't let any kind of question drop, can you?"
"Alright," I sighed, "Why did you call me here?"
"I asked you here," he corrected, "I never call anyone."
"Fine, why did you ask me here?" I was growing a little weary and frustrated with the game.
"I wanted to ask you a question. Parden me, two questions." His eyes were fixed on mine, but he was still smiling my lopsided grin.
"So ask." I shrugged.
"Do you know... or rather, do you know the answer to the Riddle of Steel?" He said, leaned back, and regarded me.
"Yes," I replied simply.
"Then why are you still troubled?"
I tried to speak, but couldn't. The words were caught in my throat like they refused to leave my mouth. He waved me away as if dismissing me. The room was growning very cold and dark. The warmpth and illumination from my ring were the only things I could see or feel. I got to my feet and stumbled away from the booth, trying to find an exit. I kept tripping over chairs and people who had become still as stautes, although I could still hear conversation and the general sussuration of a crowded room. I blindly groped for the exit but the bar and once again become a cold, dark tunnel and I felt like I was drowning in a freezing lake; trying to swim to the surface.
I awoke out of breath to find myself in my own bed, with kelly snoring next to me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hello there to all my imaginary friends,
Isn't it amazing how one little word... a phrase... some tiny little thing... even a trifle tossed out there probably unknowingly can completely wreck your whole day? How the balance of everything, whether good or ill can be shifted by the smallest thing?
I'm not referring to the proverbial straw, or the small pebble that begets an avalance. Nor to discovering some lost, buried, dusty gem of long forgotten betrayal or malice.
Just how one simple, small thing can affect an almost complete paradigm shift in your head or heart.
I guess it's safe to say that the opposite is true as well. A small favor... or a kind word... an unknowing present can brighten things up, can reveal the silver lining in even the darkest of clouds.
It just seems that negative feelings, or dark emotions tend to hold sway over the lighter, happier ones. There may be some weird cosmic truth to this, but right now, I'm just not in the mood to go digging in that sandbox.
Myrtle Protects,
-Uncle Andy
Proud member of S.M.U.T.L.U.V.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hello there to all my imaginary friends,
Just to keep the spammbots updated on what's going on with me:
So, apparantly, I'm bi-polar.
I was sitting at a bike event last night; enjoying a drink, a smoke, and watching a bunch of yobs 'school-of-sharks' the newest Titsovertalent that the new owners of my old shop have hired, when a friend who had invited himself along that evening because his girl had something else going on looked over at me and said:
"Dude, are you bi-polar or something?"
"What are you talking about?" I replied, a little taken aback by this sudden philosophical turn of the evening.
"You just seem kind of withdrawn. Like you've been quiet lately." He gave me what I'm sure he thought was a knowing look, "That's not like you. You're usually a lot happier at these things."
"When was the last time you talked to me in the last six months that wasn't to ask for a favor or just to get some information?" I said about as evenly as I could, "And for that matter, when have you ever come out to one of these things with me?"
He stammered for a second so I decided to be a little sadistic; "Did I come to your birthday party last year?"
"Oh yeah! That was cool."
"Did you come to mine?" I asked, trying to meet his eyes that for some reason wouldn't meet mine.
"No"
Now it was his turn to be taken aback, "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not withdrawn and quiet, but surly and rude."
"You want to see surly and rude?"
"No"
>sigh<
In a way, I guess I have been surly and rude. And why not? At this point I'm coming to realize that I am way down on everyone's priority list. way down. I'm not sure if that's because I've been kind of abscent lately, or my deoderant, or what. But some of these people are friends who I've known for over a decade. People who would probably say they are close to me and love me. Increasingly, I am feeling alone. Like I've basically become the guy who you call for something out of habit, or because you want something, or because it's convienent. Whatev.
I guess the thing that galls me is that whenever one of my supposid acquaintences has some little boo-boo or upset that they blog inscessantly about, everybody comes out of the woodwork with well wishes and sympathy, and syncopanthy. I work hard on something that I really like and did good on; and it doesn't even get one response. No feedback whatsoever. Not a good, bad, or go to hell. Some idiot underkind throws a pity party that her cat just vomited a chunk of food the size of a dime and it seems like people are demanding a FEMA investigation. Most of these "friends" didn't even bother to let me know they weren't planning on coming to a party that they bitched and moaned that they wanted to have... again.
I watch people post all this rah-rah friendliness crap and effluve about how much they care about one another, how one little nice word made their whole day and made them warm and squishy all over. Y'know, nobody has ever written, or even said anything like that about me? Whatev.
Don't get me wrong, I don't really want to go all emo here, and I'm not fishing for compliments. Seeing as nobody will most likely ever read this but you, loyal spammbots, it doesn't really matter anyway. Praise and love that is coerced is at best pandering and at worst placation. I don't need that. I'm starting to think that I don't really need anybody.
I really used to care about what people thought, as evidenced above. But lately it's getting harder and harder. The betrayal, the lies, the drama, and the straight out antipathy have worn me down again. Just abrasised right through all the warm happy, caring nerves I've been trying to build over the years. Worn it right down to the hard, shiny core that I've been pushing down for so long. And why? To try to win the affection of people who seem to show and share it with everyone but me? Affection that is not shared freely is at best lust and at worst a diversion. Whatev.
An old boss of mine used to tell me, "You have to do what's right for Drew." I've been pondering that more and more. And the more I ponder, the more sense it makes. "Don't make people a priority to whom you're only an option." is something else that's been preying on my mind a lot recently. Two very good pieces of wisdom.
And I don't think that this is something that is native only to my circle of friends. Seeing as I have a pretty wide and diverse group of acquaintences most of who don't know or see the others, and because I like to read random blogs on random accounts, it appears that this problem is pretty widespread and I'm beginning to think is an epidemic common to the human condition. Like we're loosing our sense of community that we're born with needing. Friendship that is not true is at best dishonest and at worst betrayal. Whatev.
I was questioned a week or so back that it sounded like I was burning bridges. At the time, I wasn't. In fact at that point I was trying to reach out, make contact and try to feel something beyond seething resentment and low-level anger. Now I'm not so sure. I'm not even entirely sure there are any bridges to burn, or that anyone would notice them gone. I am as certain as a heart attack that everyone I know would simply shrug their shoulders, nary bat an eyelash, and go back to whatever they're doing. I tend to deal with people who don't look back, unless it's for some self-serving, introverted reason, and usually tunnel-visioned when it happens.
So what's my solution? Honestly I don't know right now. Do I withdraw even further, into myself and my world, leaving and forsaking everything else? Do I go out and make a whole new circle of friends just to watch the same things happening all over? Do I just flip everyone the bird, hop on my bike and ride out into the sunset? Don't worry my faithful little spammbotts, I still love you and will chuckle over your comical attempts to get me to start a home based busines, or sell me land in Costa Rica, or even make my penis up to 3" longer. Seeing as we're close friends here and you're my best fans, I would never turn my back on you. Seclusion and seperation that is not noticed is at best redundant and at worst harmful. Whatev.
Whatev.
Myrtle protects,
-Drew
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8){kind=small}
savagebadger's journal
Previous
