It all starts with a story

“You are not a monster. The world is monstrous at times, and there are those who would have you believe that you are terrible by association.

You are are not Worse for your association with the world, but it is better for its association with You.”
Paraphrase from Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson

This made me cry. Made me howl in pain. Because, is this not what people who really know me have been saying. And I’ve been saying sure, yes, you’re right. But I didn’t see it. Couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see that I was not, in fact, a monster. Until I read this. Until it broke me.

I can see how I may have been wrong now. That I may not be a monster. Or not the bad kind of monster anyway.

We are all thin veneers of lies and pain and truths we’ve woven into who we think we are. And if we crack the surface, the darkness can spill out or in depending on our internal equilibrium. But the darkness is not evil, just as the light is not good. Rather a balance of forces. And choices. We can choose to be honorable. We can choose to take care of ourselves and our friends and family. To show kindness to strangers. To see those who are unseen. We can choose to hide. We can choose.

But only if we accept that our impact on the world is tangible. And if it is tangible, would we not prefer it to be a thing of beauty?

It’s odd, really. My family sees the boy I was. And, rightfully, they see the darkness that consumed him.
But I am not that boy any longer. And still they cannot see the man. But I know… I know others do. And now, I think I see him a bit too.

Innerspace soldiers (gross, illness)

I do this thing where I anthropomorphise my immune system. It started a few of years ago and I’ll need to explain the circumstances.

So 2 years ago, at about this time, I was dying. I didn’t know that I was dying. I thought I had the flu. And to be fair, I did have the flu. And because of my weakened immune system sometime in the midst of the flu, I think on Sunday, so about 2 days into hardcore symptoms. In that time frame, a old wound that my body had sealed with a hard lump, probably around a object, grew swollen and popped. It was oozing a mix of pus and blood. It was whatever, I have a number of wounds on my legs that will do the same thing from time to time. I wash the wound site and it scabs over, no big deal.

Not this time. I’m so deep in fever that I just wipe the site clear then stumble to my bed and collapse. I feel I should point out that I rarely get sick and when I do it is rarely for more than a couple of days. And it will be something that is harvesting people at work like wheat in a field. They’ll be sick for weeks. Me a handful of days with only 2 or so being rough.

So I have the flu and this wound on my leg. The fever from the flu gets worse. And I start getting fluid buildup in my leg. I call out sick on Monday. It gets worse. While I can walk the 10 feet to the bathroom, I don’t want to. It hurts and takes time because I’m lying down. And when I go vertical I can feel the fluid sloshing down my leg internally and it is about a 7 on my pain scale. Note: I can completely ignore a 4-5 and a 6 I can push down to 2. And if the pain is persistent instead of sharp, I can convince my mind it’s pleasure.

So a 7 on my scale is rough. I once broke my ankle in a fall. I got up, walked into work, worked my shift and went home, using it to drive. I walked on that ankle(I thought it was a sprain) and 6 weeks later rebroke it. I continued to walk on it and it healed and I have the ability to bend my right ankle so that it touches the ground. So, I have a weird scale.

So I’m at a 7. And I don’t want to walk to the bathroom because it will be blinding pain for several minutes cause of my leg and the flu. Now clearly I’m not thinking straight cause who associates fluid in the leg with the flu but I had a high fever so problems. I piss in my trash can. Cause it’s big and right there and fuck it. And now it hurts to pee

Then Tuesday and my flu is better but I still have this fever and leg thing and I think, one more day and I’ll be fine. I stay home. I feel like shit. Repeat of the last night, it still hurts to pee, leg is even harder to stand on and is swollen enough and hot enough that I have trouble putting on pants. Which I do because shorts are for children and the gym.

Wednesday rolls around. I’m not better.
My work has a new policy that if you are sick for a third day, you need a doctor’s note. I call my mom and ask if she’ll take me to urgent care because they can sign off on this. She says OK and after taking 10 minutes to walk from my front door to the curb, we’re off. Yes I can walk on it, yes it hurts but remember pain is something I’m good at. Waiting in urgent care, 2 hours. People who are clearly less sick than I keep going back. They finally see me. Take one look at my leg which is about 2 times it’s normal size, muscular about 20 inches in diameter. So it’s ballooned to 40 inches and sloshing. They take one look and say uh uh, you need the emergency room. So away we go to the emergency room with their initial prognosis.

I choose a hospital based on the emergency room reviews. Because, duh. And we end up at Thunderbird Hospital. I check in and things start to go quickly. They look at the diagnosis and put me in the little area next to doors going back while they set up my area. They weigh me and do the rigamarole and then I walk back to my partition. The doctor takes a look, draws blood and I’m polite and smiling and joking. I point a couple of the nurses to my blog cause I do that all the time. They send me off to pee in a cup and it sucks and takes forever and is really far to the bathroom, it has to be 20 feet.
I take off my clothes and have put on the gown and tied it, and I find I’m not self conscious and I’m joking with the nurses, half hinting at my private life. Nothing crude. Just very comfortable.

They say that they are going to need to get antibiotics into me. And I know that means I’m going to lose a bunch of my immune system because it’s going to kill the good bacteria too. And I set up in my mind shelters in my intestines for the bacteria to retreat to before this happens. I talk to them and appoint one of the ones who has been fighting the infection as leader and general.

They have me on 3 different bagged IV antibiotics. One of which they have to monitor because it is strong enough to potentially collapse my veins.

I’m diagnosed with cellulitis which has not reached the lymph nodes in my thigh, (my immune system rocks) flu, and a urinary track infection. Basically, it took 3 major infections all at once to sideline me.
They tell me once the cellulitis reached the lymph nodes it would have begun reproducing in my bones and that would have been it. Probably a day or two if they hadn’t caught it.

I spend a couple of nights in the hospital. I’m bored out of my skull. Nothing to read, phones dead that first night. Sucks. Plus they are checking on me every 3 hours or so and changing IV bags. They switch arms because after 2 changes with the major one its either switch veins or collapse.
I’m still on antibiotics the next day.

I have to say that my ER doctor was amazing. She was calm, cool, collected. She marshaled that place like a 3 star general. She got me a room in hours while I was waiting for tests. The nurses were in awe of that. She was great. And because I’m me and I like strong women, I noticed a wedding ring. Damn.

Anyway, I anthropomorphise my immune system and it seems to work. After the antibiotics I were done, I let the army and families out of the shelters and they were mostly OK. My immune system is led by the hand picked chosen of the initial General. All honors to him for fighting in the Great cellulitis war of 2015. And I view my immune system as honored soldiers and friends.

You can say it. That’s odd.

Answers to questions

Naughty Nora asked some questions on her blog so I decided to answer them. All congratulations to her on the award!

https://ourmarriageanddomesticdiscipline.wordpress.com/2017/12/09/and-the-liebster-award-goes-to/

My answers
What are the top five on your bucket list?
This isn’t something I really have. I don’t define by a place or an action. I guess I define by a situation.
So top five in the order I think of them
1. A woman, man, or combination in my arms night after night
2. Someone who reads something I write and tells me, thank you, I needed that.
3. I would like to look at the world and think “This is good. I think humanity has turned a corner. I think we have a chance.”
4. I’d like to sing my songs in front of a audience. And have the confidence to do so.
5. I’d like to read a story to someone I love. When I had someone to do that with, I wasn’t the same man I am now and I never thought would be something I would want.

What is your favorite sexual fantasy?
Watching my lover have sex with others. Encouraging them, watching them move to full abandon, to see them take more and more and at the end I make slow passionate love after the rough. And I hold them and comfort and tell them how proud and happy I am. That they are mine and safe and respected.

What does blogging do for you?
Blogging gives me an outlet for my emotional outbursts. It gives me a place to voice my thoughts. It let’s me write poetry that I need to write. And it let’s me write fiction that I genuinely enjoy sharing.
It gives me connections to people who I would never meet. It makes me a part of a wider world.

Who has been the most influential person in your adulthood?
This is a hard question. I think it’s a group of people. It’s all the people I’ve loved who I entered into a relationship with and that relationship failed. I’ve learned so much from what worked and what didn’t. About what I’m willing to do and allow in my life and what I want. About what I need. And who I am.

If you could choose one movie star to sleep with, who would it be?
I wouldn’t. I need a strong personal relationship with someone if I’m going to fuck them. Otherwise, it’s empty and since I’d carry the memory forever, I’d just not.

What is your favorite non-sexual activity?
Listening to people tell me about their lives. That’s my favorite thing. I like reading for the same reason but it’s also that connection. That connection is paramount.

What is your favorite body part?
Tongue. To talk, to kiss. To explore.

What is one dream that you have made come true?
I am a better writer today than I was yesterday.

What is your favorite song and why?
Impossible question. I don’t have a favorite song. I have entire playlists for different reasons.

What is the funniest or grossest thing that has ever happened to you during sexual activity?
I was standing at the edge of a bed and I’m tall so I had to bend over and she was at the edge. I’m fucking her and I start to feel my feet sliding on the carpet I try to maintain my footing but I just can’t. The floor was so slippery. And slip and I fall down. And she looks at me like what happened.

You just have to laugh

Love doesn’t stop

The problem with love is that it really doesn’t give a shit if the person you love is tied to another. Maybe this is a my brain thing or maybe it’s something we societaly suppress. In the latter case, it’s still a my brain thing since I’ve cast aside most societal norms, or at least the reasoning behind those norms.

In any case, my brain doesn’t give 2 figs if someone is with someone else. If I see them, if they resonate with me, then I will fall in romantic love with them. Outside of family, I literally have 3 friends who I don’t romantically love. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have a positive desire to be with them in any kind of romantic context. But…I have more than three friends. And the rest, I do love in a romantic way. And I find myself slipping deeper into that mindset. It’s why, despite my desire, I must distance myself from some of them. Because, they don’t want to be loved romantically. They may value me and even love me, but not romantically. And I push. Anyone who knows me, knows that I push. Not in a bad way, but I will be more intimate, more caring, romantic than is comfortable. So, in accordance with their wishes and to safeguard my emotional state, I distance myself. I hate it, but I do it.

But, the point is that I don’t stop loving someone romantically because they are with another. I won’t try to split them up. I will, actually try to bolster their relationship if it makes the person I love happy. Because I do love them, and I want them happy. And if that isn’t going to be with me, then I’m going to help their relationship if I can. Maybe that seems like self sabotage. But, I can’t be honorable and harm someone I love for personal gain. That just doesn’t work. And maybe they would be happy with me, maybe happier. But that is their decision. I can’t compromise my values to bring them to my side.

Because, if I did that, I would not be the man they would love. I would be some kind of manipulator. And that is something I will not allow. Sometimes I see the cracks in a situation and it would be easy to widen those gaps. But to do so would be contrary to my code. It would be a fundamental betrayal. I’d rather die alone and unloved than to betray.

We all must live by the standards we set. Failure to do so is evil. It’s a manipulation of our own stated truths and it destroys the people who do it. One compromise leads to another until all that we are lays in ruins. We may have all that we wanted, but it’s ashes.

Master is a dirty word.

I have never been a master of anything. And even of the people who have called me master, I was not a master. To be a master is to say that I am at the pinnacle of my abilities.  There is no higher that I can go that is not simply a reimagining of the thing in which you claim mastership of. And it’s total bullshit. Because the reality is that you are not the best at what you do. Not only is there someone better than you, there is also someone better than them. 

Think about that. Not only are you not the best, you’re not even second best. You are at best, third best. And that’s good. Really. It is. Because as third best you know that there is a place to go. You can’t sit on your ass content in the knowledge that you can learn nothing more, strive for nothing more. Instead you have more to learn. More to grow. And that is the greatest gift you can give.

Because as long as you can grow, you can change. And as long as you can change, you can overcome that seemingly insurmountable goal. Because you are not the best. Because if you were the best and you couldn’t do it, well then, it simply can’t be done.

But you are not, and it can.

So how do you get past it? How do you overcome it? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not by sitting on your ass waiting for it to present itself. Waiting for it to be.

You need to work towards that goal. Because while it may be coming slowly, if you are sitting on your ass when it presents, you will be in no state neccesary to take advantage of it. And it will pass you by. And with you on your ass, it will be all you can do to waive at it, as it speeds by.

But if you had been working towards it, you would have matched speeds and climbed aboard. Because you had done the work to get there.

You have to get up every day and do something to further your goal. You have to try to be ready to jump when it comes. And you have to not lose heart. Because 3rd place is not second loser, it is the place from which winners launch.

Keep working. Not towards mastery. Not towards some impossible goal. Define a goal. Write it down and follow through. Start small but do a little more until you are screaming from how much it is. Then do that for awhile, until it becomes easy. Then do more. We are only as limited as we allow ourselves to be. More is always possible.

If you get off your ass.

What is creation?

Emotions don’t create change. They merely express it. They inform it. But they are the result of creation not creation itself.

Creation is the act of seeing the shape of things as they are. As they might be. Of describing what is seen. We feel an emotion but to write it, paint it, draw it, sing it, dance it, we must first observe it. We must embrace it and trace its lines like a lover. We must touch it and make it seen. Then through our own inadequate sight we describe it, transform it, connect it. And in the end, it is no longer emotion, but the thing of creation. And it moves out from us, inciting emotions in those who choose to perceive it.

Weird brain shit

If I’m confident in a situation then I’m utterly comfortable and I will be kind and playful. Loving and caring.
If I encounter something I don’t understand or something I hadn’t foreseen, I will go completely analytical. I will ask questions that will make me seem like I’m being oblivious. I will try to hash out my own feelings and fears because I don’t understand what is happening, not in the moment.

I think it’s probable that I don’t have a high EQ. Just that I’ve encountered many prior situations and I’ve already worked the scenarios and I have contingency behaviors for my contingency behaviors. Which may make me seem weird right? I see that. What I am is a INTJ that is sufficiently self aware that I know why and what I’m doing.
Not that it helps me much in the moment.

I have to have things explained to me. Once I know then I’ll start looking for the situations and try to have plans in place to handle things. And I’ll try to not make the same mistake. But I’ll make others.
Contingency planning only goes so far.

My nightmare, my hell

Just woke up from a nightmare, my kind of nightmare, no maniacs or feelings of dread or anything. I have tripwires are the best way to describe it that will wake me to lucid dreaming if those happen.
This was at a vast mansion party. It was filled with debauchery which I’m normally fine with but there was a pervasive understanding that the people were being forced to participate. There were women wearing heavy chain collars described as soul mates of the person they were with who were forced to perform sexual acts on people other than their desire at the urging of their so called mates and both had hollow eyes empty of desire and this element of silent pleading.

All around broken people perverted love to satisfy physical lust. There was no passion or desire just the physical moment of release without any emotional connection. Anyone in one of the heavy chain collars was meat for the feast. These were all the so-called soul mates of others who had enslaved them and destroyed their will to the point where this was accepted. But there was no joy in it.

This is what the general public views BDSM as. This breaking of the will and using of others for pure physical release. And it is a perversion of all that I’ve enjoyed in the lifestyle. Of everything that I am.

There was no love there. No joy. No pleasure. No consent. Just destruction of sacred bonds and me, a ghost at the feast.

I couldn’t act. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t twist the dream. I was awake enough to remember. Awake enough to be aware but not awake enough even to save those people.

It was a nightmare. To me, a living hell. A perversion of everything I’ve ever stood for or tried to convey. Sex disguised as love and rotting at the root of those involved. Destroying their ability to see and love. To see love as something other than this fear and destruction. And any that break free of this, few as there was the sense that the only freedom offered was death, there was only isolation and despair. The bedrock belief that none could love them after this experience.

It was a nightmare of epic proportion to me. I wish I could say that I woke of my own volition. But it felt like I was released.

Now, I want to find that dreamscape lucid and burn it down. Even as a dreamscape it is fundamentally wrong. And I can’t allow it to exist. Which may sound like madness. But I’m a dream walker. And it may be madness but, sadly, that doesn’t make it less real.

I have to confront the dream to make myself sane. To not allow the fear of that place win.

Freedom found

I worry. I worry that whatever I am. This creature, this person I have chosen to be. This person I have actively defined by my choices.
I worry that when you finally see me, all that structure and facade will fall away and you’ll be left with what I am.

And all of that is a lie. It’s a lie that my fear tells my heart because it needs to maintain its control. But it is a lie.

I have constructed myself but it was like chipping away at a hunk of marble. I didn’t build a structure on top of a structure. There is no facade. There is just this false feeling of being an imposter. Because if I’m all that I am and then I fail it will be because I was not enough. Or because what I am is not what is desired. And that is my fear. Not that something I’ve done or not done will be the cause of rejection but that despite it all. Despite who I am, I am somehow not what is wanted.

That’s the fear. It’s not that I am an imposter and will be found out. It’s that I’m NOT and despite it all will still be found wanting. And I can’t do anything about that. I can be me. I can show up and put all the tools and processes and everything I am and if it’s still not enough, then we’re just not meant to be. Not meant to click and choose each other.

And seeing that now, I wonder at what I was afraid of? Afraid that I’d be rejected by someone who won’t, who can’t see me? Can’t value me?

There might be pain because I will have invested emotionally but if you can’t love who I am, why should I allow that to hurt me. It should instead free me. And it does

Just…what…uh…no idea

I’m in a position now where I want so much to be holding in my arms the ones that I love. But I know that is either a distant future or a impossibility and I have to deal with that.

In a way it’s like a breakup but without the constant questioning and self recriminations. In this case I know the reasons. I just lament them.

Right now, I’m sad often and I don’t want to be but I also don’t know how to stop it my self.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to meet extraordinary people through my blog and though some hurt me, I still feel incredibly fortunate to have the chance to be with people who meet my mind first rather than the crucible of a dating site or a munch or something. Because, I’m not great at those.

Let’s be clear. I’m weird. I have odd notions and hobbies. I have strange views and see things differently. What the majority find interesting, I find mostly a nuisance. I point this out, not to set myself apart, but to demonstrate that I feel as if I’m a outsider.

When you add in BDSM and a preference for strong submissives, I find I’ve narrowed my interests perhaps too narrowly.

I’d love to say that such a narrow focus means that I find my way clear but really I’m all a muddle.

I scare people away because I’m intense and always seek clarity. Not because I am meek but because I can have a effect where I bowl someone over.
But then I just melt if someone says, “Yes, Sir,” and means it.

I don’t know where forward is. Or if I need to heal first. Or if I just need someone I love to look me in the eyes and say “Yes, I choose you” and mean it down to their bones.