On Religion

I don’t remember if I’ve posted here about my views on religion with M/s. I talk so much that I forget where I’ve already babbled but it didn’t come up in a search so maybe I haven’t.

A(nother) thread on FL brought this up. The original question asked was, I think, wanting to know if a slave has religious practices that trump the Master’s wishes, then isn’t that person in fact a submissive and not a slave by sheer fact that she’s not surrending total authority to the Master. Or something like that.

For instance, if she cannot change worship times to suit the Master’s schedule or will not engage in some kinky practices due to her religious beliefs, is she then unable to be a fully committed slave?

Well. So. I have weird ideas about M/s and religion. And my reply was kind of off topic to the question on FL so Imma drag it over here.

For me, if religion were important to Master, and I had opposing religious beliefs – I don’t think I could belong to him.

Because if I believed something different than he did, then he would, necessarily, have to be wrong. And if I believed him to be wrong about something as important as the eternal damnation of my soul, I don’t think I could muster up the trust to believe in him about how he wants to be shaping my head and my thoughts.

As it stands, I’m a half-hearted agnostic leaning toward atheism and he’s a non-practicing baptist. Luckily for me, so far, he leans toward my side of the fence.

But if he chooses to become a devout practictioner of his religion, I’d have to believe that he knows what is true, and follow his faith accordingly. I would HAVE to find a way to believe what he believes. Not pretend to believe, not obediently go to church and mumble the words. I would have to accept what he accepts as truth.

And if HE truly believed in his religion, wouldn’t he also prefer that my soul rest with his for all of eternity and insist that I convert? If he believes in his faith and his choice of God, believes it to be the correct worship of God’s will, how would he justify sitting back quietly and allowing me to incorrectly worship – or not worship at all?

If he didn’t care about my soul, then I would logically conclude that he doesn’t care about my afterlife, therefore he also must not care about my current life.

I’m not seeing how people with two differing religions do M/s. Hell, I can’t see how they do vanilla for that matter. This isn’t just a difference of opinion. Religion is what you believe happens to your eternal soul, it’s not a debate on who’s the best man for president.

If I were the religious one and I truly believed that to NOT believe as I did meant that my loved ones were therefore condemned to an eternal life of hardship, I’d do everything in my power to convert them, to save them from that. Because I love them.

Doesn’t that necessarily mean that if someone doesn’t, they don’t care enough? And if they don’t care enough, how can you submit to them?

Or am I way out in left field?

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“Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…”

There are many of you who (who? whom? whatevs) I don’t know very well. So I ganked this from an LJ friend. Answer the questions in a comment so I can learn all your dirty secrets!

1. Can you cook?
2. What was your dream growing up?
3. What talent do you wish you had?
4. Favorite place?
5. Favorite vegetable?
6. What was the last book you read?
7. What zodiac sign are you ?
8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
9. Worst Habit?
10. Do we know each other outside of blogging?
11. What is your favorite sport?
12. Negative or Optimistic attitude?
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
15. Tell me one weird fact about you:
16. Do you have any pets?
17. Do you know how to do the macarena?
18. What time is it where you are now?
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
22. What color eyes do you have?
23. Ever been arrested?
24. Favorite fictional character of all time?
25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
26. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
27. What’s your favorite hangout?
28. Do you believe in ghosts?
29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
30. Do you swear a lot?
31. Biggest pet peeve?
32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
33. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?

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“There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction”

I swear somedays I don’t know what I’m doing here. I look back over the archives and I think to myself “who the fuck wrote that?”

I don’t recognize the thoughts and feelings of that person anymore. I’m not HER.

Life is fluid, we grow, we change, we evolve.

I feel like I’m saying good-bye to masochism. I don’t miss it. I don’t want it. I have none of that deep desire that I used to have for pain. No cravings, no longing, no buried greediness.

It slipped away as quietly and unnoticed as my craving for cigarettes did.

I could be wrong, but I think Master’s desire for sadism is somewhere in the graveyard with my desire for masochism. He mentions it more than I do, laments that it doesn’t happen, but it seems more of a perfunctory announcement than a heartfelt acknowledgment of something missing.

But maybe he really does miss it. Terribly.

I don’t feel like it’s missing. I feel like it’s gone. And I’m not sad about that. At all.

THAT’S where I get… scared. I’m not bothered that it’s gone; I’m bothered that it’s gone and I don’t care that it’s gone.

Seems like I should be, huh? Something that defined me for so long, something I jumped through hoops to have, made sacrifices to find, worked so goddamn hard to get, just up and vanishes and I … don’t care?

Adios, amigos. Nice knowing you. ~waves~

That’s it?

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not distressed or depressed or unhappy. I guess that’s why I’m baffled. I AM happy and content. I’m in love, deliriously so.

If I had a magic wand there isn’t anything I would change about MY life right now. I might change other people’s problems, but nothing in mine.

I’m just.. satisfied. I like our routine, I like the service, I like the quiet backdrop of D/s that colors everything we do.

But, if something that used to be so important to me can so quietly fade away….

What if everything else can, too?

There’s a popular question that floats around among the bdsm crowd, a sort of limit-tester, designed to force no-limit slaves into admitting they have some. What if Master ordered you to go vanilla?

It’s all “oh he would never!” or “I would do whatever he said”.

But what if the tables are turned? What if the slave, through no conscious or deliberate desire just… loses it. Loses the drive and the desire and it all just slips away?

Where does that leave him?

Where will that leave me?

I hate change.

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LOL-Jesus

These? Crack me the fuck UP.

My mother would not be amused.

*nort nort nort*

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My Bloody Valentine

(how many of us deviant characters titled our valentine posts with THAT title? :D )

Master took me out for an uber-romantic movie night.

We saw Friday the 13th.

Nothing like a little blood and gore and jumpy-outy moments to kindle romance.

He knows me so well.

*beams*

Hope all of your’s was as “thrilling” as mine was. ;-)

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“Then you turn your back and they are gone so fast”

B-man is going to a dance after school – with a girl! He has a *date*. He told me I have to buy him a new shirt! He’s worn nothing, literally, but black heavy metal band t-shirts for a year and now he must have a new shirt. For his *date*.

My baby. *sniffle*

I also think he smoked pot but I’m not sure and it’s just one of those nagging mom feelings and I have NO idea what to do about THAT. Of course he says he didn’t but a friend of his got busted by his parents for having some and I just know, I KNOW, if his friend had it while B-man was there – come on, I wasn’t born yesterday! So I told him if I ever catch him with any I’m gonna call the police. I don’t care how harmless everyone thinks it is or that “everyone does it!” (which isn’t true because Master and I don’t!) – it’s still illegal and I can’t just do nothing.. right?

Could/ would any of you turn in your own kid?

Gah! What the hell was I thinking when I had kids? SO much easier when they still wore diapers. Srsly.

I got one trying to be a hoodlum, one having to buck society and be a lesbian (the nerve! hee.) and one turning me into a grandma well before my time.

I honestly did not sign up for this part. I want a do-over.

~~*~~

Speaking of grandma-ism. Check this out:

Is that not the most adorable little belly you’ve ever seen?? That’d be my grandbaby in there, kicking the shit outta her ribs. *beams*

~~*~~

Tonight I’m taking Master and Am out for a birthday dinner since we really didn’t do much as a family to celebrate. I’m gonna do the whole ‘loud singing waiters with cake, embarrass ‘em to death in the restaraunt’ gig. So excited. B-man will be with us but I think Jes has other plans.

Tomorrow is Am’s party. We’re hauling them all to the movies to see Coraline(? I think) and then back here for cake and ice cream and presents. And then mucho hours of screaming, squealing girls playing DDR and Rock Band.

The joy. It overwhelms me.

~~*~~

I finally have all of the paperwork I need to get my driver’s license renewed. I think. So today I’ll be doing that – my 3rd attempt, and I swear to GOD if they tell me I’m missing something and send me home again, I’m gonna scream. I have never had this much trouble proving who I am. Somehow I find it hard to believe that the U.P. has such a huge problem with nefarious characters that they need to be *this* ridiculously anal about documentation. This does not appear to be a hotbed of criminal activity. Oy.

On the subject of Michigan, I’ve had the “Mmmbop” song stuck in my head on repeat since August. AUGUST. That’s 6 months of mmmbop. Wanna know why?

Too bad, Imma tell you anyway.

Because there are signs ALL OVER Michigan for the Michigan Dept. of Transportation. Shortened to its initials of course.

The M-DOT.

MMM-DOT.

MMM-BOP.

Listen to it. I dare ya.

:P

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“If I look confused it’s because I’m thinking”

So… if, directly after sex, your Man rolls over, gives you rock hands and says “Party on, Garth!” -

Would you assume it meant good sex or bad sex?

Or would you suspiciously sniff the “water” glass on the bedside table?

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“Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.”

When I woke up this morning, I was trying to recapture the last hazy remnants of a dream but I couldn’t. I only remember that it was an incredibly happy dream and that’s it.

So I was thinking about dreams.

I used to have two reoccuring dreams as an adult. Nightmares more than dreams, but always the same, several times a week, vividly terrifying.

One was that someone(s) was breaking into my house. Dark, scary, faceless men, creeping through windows and doors, slinking down the hallway. Always, those men would be inbetween me and my children. I would try and scream, try to warn the kids to hide, and could never do more than whisper, could only watch helplessly as these dark figures crept closer and closer to the kids’ room.

I would struggle to consciousness, and then lay awake in the dark, sweating, terrified, listening to noises and have to convince myself it was only a dream.

That dream went on for years and years and years.

The other dream was not quite as terrifying as it was sad and frustrating. One of the things that I struggled with as a single, poor, parent was housing. It seemed I was always on the verge of being homeless, living paycheck to paycheck, and even at that, some of the places we lived weren’t really big enough or safe enough.

So I would have this dream that was always about housing. I’d have found some spectacular place to live, a place where everyone had a bedroom of their own and I’d be happily decorating it or arranging furniture – and then something would happen. I remember one in particular where the walls and floors disintegrated into swarms and swarms of roaches, falling on us and crawling on us and we had to run out of the house. Another house was slipping into the ocean, slowly sinking while we climbed out of windows, crying, not wanting to leave it but knowing we had to.

I know why I had those reoccuring dreams then. In the first one, I was well aware of the vulnerability of being a single woman with helpless kids under my care in a world where senseless violence happens on a daily basis. I had legitimate fears of break-ins and not being able to protect myself, much less my kids.

The second dream merely illustrated the difficulties of low-income, substandard housing and how every time it seemed I had my feet under me, some unforeseen circumstance would come along and knock me down.

I can remember being afraid to go to bed, staying up way later than I should when I had to be to work at 6 a.m. I remember piling weapons (knives, clubs – no guns) under and around my bed. Making sure the phone was in reach, the doors and windows were locked and barricaded.

Miserable nights. Miserable mornings. But I’m thankful for them now.

I’m glad I had those years of night terrors. I’m glad I had to claw my way out of sleep, tears on my face, heart pounding, stark terror preventing me from sleeping any longer that night.

Otherwise, I don’t think I’d fully appreciate the slow, easy waking, the half-hearted grab at wispy happiness from a cloudy dream, the ability to snuggle back down next to a warm and safe body, knowing my children are secure in their beds – and they each have one of their own that isn’t going to disappear from under their sleeping bodies.

I’d not understand the significance of looking forward to bedtime instead of dreading it, or how comforting it is to turn out the light and lie in the dark with nothing but his soft, even breathing for company rather than keeping my ears tuned and jumping at every squeak and thump.

Every life experience has been worth it. Everything that has shaped me, groomed me, or primed me for these moments today has been worth it.

Even those spooky little ol’ dreams.

And I don’t remember the last time I had a nightmare of any sort.

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TMI Tuesday

I’m jumping on the TMI bandwagon for lack of anything more exciting to blog about. :-)

1. What do you think is the un-sexiest part of the body?
Assholes. Really. They’re just not pretty no-how.

2. Toilet paper: over, under, or what the hell are you talking about?

Over! For the love of God! O-V-E-R! If I’m at your house and it’s under – I’m changing it. It is THAT important to me.

3. Have you ever called in sick to stay in bed with a sexual partner?

Hee. Yeah. Me and Master can be naughty and immature like that. :D

4. Did your parents have a “birds & bees” talk with you? If so, at what age?

No. I was indoctrined to the ways of the birds and the bees before I could tie my own shoes. Probably, I could teach them a thing or two by now. ;-)

5. What is one thing a someone could do to you to rock your world?
Blah. I don’t know. My world is rocked pretty frequently anyway.

Bonus (as in optional):What does sex mean to you?

Orgasms. Pain. Sweat. Shower. Nap.

Not necessarily in that order.

~~*~~

Today is Am’s 16th birthday. She’s having a party this weekend (oh fun).

I really wanted to post a picture of her because she’s so beautiful but I ain’t even in the mood for the “omg! you posted a picture of your kid on a sex site! Bad mom! wah-wah-wah-wah!” type comments. But you can email me if you wanna. :D

~~*~~

You know how when you think you’ve gotten away with slacking, like you’ve done just enough that *maybe* it looks like you’ve still done everything you’re supposed to do and since men are meh-iffy sometimes on noticing these domestic things and so you feel a *little* bit guilty, a little bit relieved and just a little bit sneaky, too?

And then, just out of the blue, a couple days later, you surprise him with an unasked-for bowl of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream and he grins and says “Now, THIS makes up for everything you didn’t do last week, cunt.” and you just kind of stand there with that deer-in-headlights look.

You know?

So, off of the internet I go and busy with the chores I am.

;-)

~cunt

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Fetlife – how I love thee.

I’ve spent way too much time on FL yesterday and this morning. Sometimes, it’s just too humorous to walk away from.

The latest buzzwords are abuse and red flag.

Your dom put you on a diet? Abuser!! He doesn’t like you as you are!

Your dom said you had to leave Fetlife? Red Flag!! He’s isolating you!

Someone slapped someone at a play party? Abuse! Call the cops!

If you haven’t joined yet, you simply must. You’re missing stimulating conversations like:

How do you distinguish a lie verses the truth?

Help I don’t know what I am???

You’re missing out on being able to reassure someone that burning the spaghetti sauce is really not a freak-out emergency and that clicking the wrong drop down menu shouldn’t be grounds for release.

Last but not least – if you don’t come to Fetlife, you cannot join the Fart Lovers group.

That right there should be enough to recruit *everybody*.

Seriously. I love the place. It is WAY fun.

Today.

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