Christmas was… Okay.

We didn’t really DO anything, but it seemed to consume a vast amount of my time.  (Also, on Christmas Eve Day, I went to the ATM.  I got distracted by my brother and it ate my card.  Merry Fucking Christmas to me!)

I spent time at my father’s and at my mother’s.  Both of them knew I NEED a new computer.  (This one is… Well.  Yeah.  It’s horrific.)  I haven’t had a new one in five years.  I’ve literally spent half a decade freaking out over computer issues. I had fifteen service dispatches on the piece of shit Dell laptop I bought in college until finally they sent me a “complete system replacement” (aka, a new computer) and that?  Well, the screen FELL THE FUCK OFF and it wasn’t under warranty.  My mom gave me her extra laptop (a Dell she hated, and she has since gone to a Mac because of how fucked up Dell is) and it has decided it will not work when the battery is in it.  At all.

I will never, ever, EVER buy another Dell.  Those things are disgusting, their service techs are incomprehensible, and their on-site serve people have lost screws inside my computer (it rattled cheerily when I moved it), broken the casing on my computer, and one of them spent the whole  time talking about his ex-girlfriend and how she won’t leave him alone because he’s so awesome.

For the record, he was not awesome.

ANYWAY.  They gave me money enough to get a new laptop.  Sweeeeeeeeet.

(I talked to The Man about this.  He asked where I was going to get it.  I said I’d go to the website, customize a computer, and beg the nice people to make me a magical machine of merriment and pay them whatever they want.  He said I actually needed to do research, not just buy direct from the first manufacturer’s website that catches my eye.  He’s nuts I tell you, absolutely insane.)

Also, I’m going to Mexico for a week at the end of February.  My mother, who has more money than she knows what to do with, has gotten herself a beautiful casita there complete with a rooftop garden, beautiful interior, and a maid/cook for six weeks.  She hates winter, so she’s decided to leave it for a while. And she’s taking my brother and me with her for a week!

I’ll finally get to use some of my Spanish.

Also… Something I considered to be a VERY nice Christmas present… Praise!  In his words:

I must commend you on your patience and your general state of “adultness”. I’m impressed and glad as hell. I was reorganizing the hard drive on my desktop, actually the back up drive, and I ran into one of your old schedules (from around Oct 2008).

Reading that, I have to say the improvement; in your attitude, demeanor, maturity, and general tone, is amazing.

You haven’t gotten all whiny or angry or petulant or demanding like the Chloe of a year or two ago. I’m impressed. You’ve grown. That’s good.

It’s nice when hard work pays off.  I’ve been SO goddamn Zen!  My tongue is sorer for the biting, but it’s getting easier to be mature without chomping down on my tongue.  I’m also more at peace. And, it would seem, so is he.

So… I’m doing very well.  We’re talking and working through our “issues” or whatever you want to call them.  It makes me really happy that I’m not all PANICKY.  Panicky is something I do really, really well.  And… As hard as it is to compliment myself, I think Antonio is right.  I’m being much more adult about things and it’s made life SO much easier.  And… Damn, I realize this will spawn its own post, so I’ll have to make it its own post later!  

I have to get baking.  I’ve got work tonight and a staff meeting tomorrow and it’s the only time all the staff is together near the holiday – so I gotta make some sort of Christmas effort.  Bleh.

I was thinking the other day (read: rambling in email) about my thoughts on fear and common sense.  I thought to myself, hey, self, you know what the cool thing to do would  be?  Force people to read about it!

So here you go.

I’ve never owned a key to my own home.  Never.  Not once. 

Hell, I don’t even know if we HAVE keys. 

Why?  My part of this world is a safe place.  Kids can play outside by themselves, cars don’t get locked in parking lots, and people don’t hurt each other.  (In fact, years back some crazy guy went off his medication and killed his mother and it was the first murder in 25 years.  It was OMG time.)

So we don’t lock our doors. Not even if we go on vacation.  Seriously.

I figured out it was not “normal” when I first heard the term “latchkey kid” as a child.  I asked my mother what it meant and had my itty bitty mind blown when I realized kids might need keys to their own houses.  OH, THE HUMANITY!

So I asked why we didn’t lock OUR doors.  My mother explained it to me like this: “I’d rather risk having a stupid TV stolen than live in fear.  Living in peace and calm every single day of my life is worth the infinitesimal chance my material possessions get stolen.  And besides?  If someone REALLY wants that TV?  My locked doors sure as hell aren’t going to prevent them from taking it. My fear will not save me, or it.”

That’s true around here.  If someone wants to steal something from you, they are on a friggin’ MISSION.  There just isn’t random crime. 

Now.  When I lived in New York City?  You can bet your ass I locked my door.  When my mother rents apartments in the city here?  She locks her doors too. 

That’s the “common sense” part.  Common sense tells you there is a GOOD chance of a break-in, or at least a random attempt that might be stymied by a locked door.  Common sense tells you the fear you have to inject into your daily life might ACTUALLY prevent something.

But when you live in a low-crime area, you’ve lived there for decades with no issues and you know it’s a very safe place?  Common sense would tell you that you don’t need to lock the doors.  Only FEAR would make you do it. 

And in the 26 years that I’ve been alive, my houses here have never been broken into, my car has never had anything stolen from it, I’ve never dropped a wallet and had it returned with a penny less than it had when I lost it, and I haven’t known a SINGLE person who has had these things happen either!  Not around my hometown.  So every ounce of logic, common sense, and rational thinking lets me know there is no reason to spend even 5 seconds every day being fearful and locking doors except, you got it, fear.  Five seconds for 25 years means I’d have spent almost two solid weeks in fear.

No thanks!

Sure, this is a society based on scaring people into doing things.  Turn on the news and even on a slow night there is SOME headline along the lines of “OMFG, Your refrigerator is trying to KILL you in your sleep!” or “The hidden, lethal dangers of walking your dog!!!”  So, yeah, people are conditioned to think that fear is useful and fabulous and saves their asses and it’s oh-so-smart to be fearful all the time.  To the point where they don’t even recognize that they are cloaked in it anymore.  Its so sad.  And it’s just bullshit in some cases.  So, for me, here in safe-world?  Convention be damned, I choose not to live in fear.

(Now, I realize most people would say, ‘I lock my doors but it doesn’t cause fear!” And I get that.  It actually reminds me of turning vegan.  I had NO idea how much guilt I carried until it vanished.  Not a CLUE.  And with the locking doors thing, I had NO idea how much fear was missing from my life until I moved to the city and had to lock doors.  Sure, it became habit… But it still occupied habitual checklists in my head… I had to remember to lock, remember my keys, ask myself if I remembered to lock the door and… Holy hell, I could not believe that sort of crap had to occupy ANY of my mental time never mind occupying it on a daily basis!  What a waste.  In the city, though?  Common sense dictates it is necessary.)

Anyway, that’s the difference between common sense and fear, in my world…

And it’s like that in my relationship.  I trust Antonio, because I’ve known him for years and because we’ve been through some shitty, shitty times.  Because he’s been proved to be a good man, because he’s proven himself to be a good man. 

In the VERY beginning?  Fuck yes, common sense told me to keep my guard up, to watch more closely, to second guess things he said and to second guess myself. 

Now?  Common sense tells me he’s a man who has weathered storms with me, who is loyal and amazing and who loves me and wants the best for us, and ONLY FEAR would make me challenge his every word or motive or intention.

And for better or worse, I refuse to live in fear. 

My common sense is still perfectly intact and pretty damn good – I’m no genius, but I’m smarter than the average person. And if someone happened that seemed truly wrong?  I’d be on it.  But, while things are not perfect at the moment, they certainly aren’t alarming or reason to live in fear.

I got a comment from twisted the other day asking if I was all right.

I am, for the most part. Won’t stop me from complaining here, though.

First I was sick.  *thumbs up*

Then my brother went away, which left me with my work and the dog-duties he usually does. (Which, in my doggie’s old age, are getting to be more and more.  She’ll be 17 in two months!  SEVENTEEN!  Her breed’s life expectancy is 12 years…) Plus, he took his camera, so I said, “Ah, fuck it” to finishing VFFF pictures. 

Then… Work.  

I spent a large portion of yesterday filling out, faxing, emailing, re-faxing, etc. all kinds of paperwork for insurance, life insurance, accidental death and dismemberment insurance, dental insurance (declining THAT shit.  Thirty bucks a week for BAD coverage?  Hell no!), disability benefits options and other benefits I didn’t really even bother looking at.  (I’m STILL not even sure what the “cafeteria plan” is.  Something about health insurance?  It has nothing to do with cafeterias, that’s for sure.)

BUT.  The seriously crappy part about work?  This weekend, between the hours of about 10:00pm Friday to about 10:00 Monday (a period of 60 hours), I was home for 15 of them.  Asleep for about 12 of those because I was DYING of exhaustion. 

So all weekend, Friday night until Monday morning, I was home and conscious a total of three fucking hours.

But, wait!  That’s not even the crappy part.  The CRAPPY part is that because I got stuck at work so long (I got frozen one morning when a girl called in sick to her shift and they couldn’t (or didn’t bother to) find relief), I missed a wedding. Not a random wedding, either.  The wedding of the girl who was my best friend starting when we were 7 years old.  We were best friends though ALL of school from second grade right through graduation.  We were roommates in college as well – the whole deal.

And I missed her fucking wedding because I was stuck at work.  I am not pleased about this.  I want to murder the company I work for.  Slowly.  With butter knives or toothpicks or something.

Grrrrrr….

Yesterday, when I got home from Weekend Of Work, that’s when I got to KEEP working and deal with paperwork bullshit (that should have been completed while I was on the clock at work, but my genius company decided not to put up paperwork (DUE ON THE 15TH!) on the company web until, get this, the late morning of the 14th.)

They are outstandingly stupid.  I shall be looking for another job.  (I sort of danced around this, but The Man said I had to do it “immediately” because even if it’s only for a few months, it would be worth it.)

Oh, then I went and worked at my mother’s house for a while yesterday.  Which is where I have to go today.  Quite soon, actually. Until, of course, I head back to real-work tonight.

I’m tired already, and I haven’t even been awake that long…

I haven’t been able to sit down while I eat for days and days and days.  So sitting down to post hasn’t happened either. I’ve got a lot of crap to do this week, too, including a trip into the city to deal with paperwork.  Joy.  But I’m hoping by the weekend, things will have calmed down and I can actually write.

And now I bid you adieu, because I’ve got to clean the kitchen and shower and get over to Mom’s for work in an amount of time that doesn’t allow me to actually physically DO all of those things.

Bleh.

I can’t sleep! Joy! And I poked my phone and saw I had a comment. So, after reading it, I figured I’d come ramble a bit more… In knowing I’d continue this line of thinking, I didn’t fully flesh out my thoughts in the last post.

This might not be the end of this line of thinking either… I might get tired and have to cap it!

I think I wasn’t entirely clear in the beginning of my comment to dk, either. I said I’d be deliriously happy to HEAR those things. But that’s not quite it… I’d be deliriously happy to BELIEVE those things.

Anyway, Amber posted a really great comment on the last post, which I hope you’ll all go read. Really, go read it. I’ll wait.

Are you being lazy and not reading? You suck. Fine then – it’s about uncompromisingly going after what you want to be fulfilled on a soul-deep level – and I completely agree with that sentiment.

It’s just… In this instance… I should be very clear: I CAN’T go after what I want.

I can’t believe in unconditional ownership… the same way I can’t believe in the Christian God. But, yes, I kinda want to believe in unconditional ownership… the same way I want to believe in Santa Claus.

It just… It doesn’t matter how far and wide I search – it ain’t gonna happen.

Because in the case of unconditional ownership, it’s not that I’ve got the wrong man for the job; I don’t. I’ve got the wrong brain for the belief!

However, there ARE people who believe, wholeheartedly, in these things I cannot believe in. Devoutly religious people believe in an afterlife… Many little children believe in Santa… And some people believe in unconditional ownership.

I’m not trying to undermine their beliefs by saying I’m incapable of sharing them. But I do realize it may sound bad, to the believers, to hear me talk about their faiths this way. I know that, and I’m sorry. I don’t like the idea that my personal feelings could feel that insulting to people… I don’t intend them that way! I just know they might be.

I know many Christians would look at me saying this, FULLY convinced my soul is heading toward eternal damnation unless I’m saved. They believe THEY are right, no matter what, and I’m the one missing out. I’m wrong. I’m not seeing the light. There is an afterlife.  There is a God.  My soul could be “saved” by finding Jesus… And I can’t convince them otherwise. I won’t try.

I’ve never been told to believe in unconditional ownership either – I’m not shrugging off an assurance I’ve been given by The Man.  He’s never claimed to believe in it.

For which I’m overwhelmingly glad, when it comes down to it. I don’t find peace in someone who has delusional thinking. To me, I have to admit, it’s just that; delusional.

In my short time here on Earth, I’ve come to realize I find no TRUE solace in pretty delusions. And believe me, I’ve tried! I prefer reality to fantasy. I may not prefer how it FEELS, and I may not prefer that it leaves me here, unable to think I’ve got anywhere to go after I die, unable to believe that “no matter what” exists in love and life, unable to believe someone in a sleigh is going to bring me presents on Christmas.

But I prefer this reality to a made-up one. Heck, I wouldn’t even need a single human being in my life if my choice is going to be fantasy. I could just close my eyes and invent.

As the brilliant Mr. Sagan said:

I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking. The world is so exquisite with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence. Far better it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.

THAT is so… Perfect.  That’s what I feel – about an afterlife, and about all other kinds of “wishful thinking.” I think that quote has wide-reaching applications, not just about the afterlife.

There is just something so much DEEPER and more pleasurable in traversing the sometimes torturous and always stunning emotional landscapes of REAL life rather than crafting false, pale imitations in Imagination-Land.

And to me… As much as I’d like to pretend otherwise for the sake of anyone who reads here and differs with me on any opinion… I can’t. It is pure imagination from my point of view. 

There are so many beautiful truths in this world, some I know and many I have yet to discover, that I see no need to invent false comfort objects.

Humans and their minds – something I’ve made a personal and formal study of – are fascinating. Specifically, they are fascinating for the level of control their inescapable biological imperatives have, fascinating too in their ability to convince themselves of things, to change, to cope, to learn, etc.

Pretending to know how a human mind and life will evolve, alone or in conjunction with the people around it, strikes me as… well… Insanity.

People don’t know the future in a “forever and for always” kind of way. Life is too complex, to malleable, too unforeseeable.

In fact, it’s the lack of knowing what the future holds that has me right here, typing. Because you better believe if I had a fucking CLUE, you can bet your ass I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be cleaning up in Vegas.

I think… I think it boils down to this, for me.  The humans currently experiencing the phenomenon that is “life” are simply not in as much control as they would like to pretend. And boy, do they like to pretend.

FOR THE RECORD… I’m not immune to this desire to pretend.  Hell no!  I live like I have a tomorrow and that my tomorrow will be much like today.  And I live in a way that assumes my next week and next month will be too.  I GET that it’s comforting because I DO it too!  It’s just… It doesn’t make it solid.  It doesn’t make it real. It doesn’t make it anything more than wishful thinking on my part.  I choose to recognize that. 

I think I could (and NEED to) do more to cherish what I have, by way of realizing that “forever” and “no matter what” simply do NOT exist.  In fact, the person who has made me want to work on that is the amazing M:e who has spoken, far more eloquently than I ever could, about how you never, ever, EVER know what tomorrow holds.

(More later, I imagine. I shall try for bed again now, though.  Probably some emails are in order too!)

So the other day I commented (without thinking fully, imagine that) on dk’s disobedience post.

She was feeling quite low about being punished – and despite how my comment initially came across, I DO understand that. 

She relayed her Master’s words at one point in the post and said:

“You will never be dumped by me.  You will be fixed by me… corrected by me… purified by me…”

And because of that,  I said in comment this:

See, for me, I’d be deliriously happy to hear all that.

*shrug*

I don’t have the “unconditional ownership” thing. There are no promises of “You will never be dumped by me. You will be fixed by me… corrected by me… purified by me…”

For me, there ARE conditions. I don’t have the categorical certainty that I’m still always his no matter what I do. A lot of times I wish I had that safety net and I wish he’d say those things to me. A lot of other times I think it’s delusional to think that safety net can possibly exist, and I’m glad he doesn’t because they would feel like lies.

Additionally, but unrelated, I really have to go to the bank. Bleh.

Hang in there, kiddo. There hasn’t been an experience yet that’s managed to do anything but make you wiser and happier. Take comfort in that, if you can.

dk replied:

While at first I thought your comment was extremely insensitive and put me off a bit, I can see where you’re coming from. And I am of course thankful that I won’t be dumped for going astray. I will however be subjected to his corrective process which could theoretically be a life sentence of suckfulness if I don’t change my ways. The door swings both ways.

And it made me think…

Obviously (well, I hope it was obvious), I didn’t intend to be insensitive. I was just musing, and perhaps a little selfishly…  I mean… I just can’t help but think it must be nice to feel owned no matter what.

The concept of a slave/submissive having a “no matter what” clause blows my goddamn mind. When I read about it all I can think is omg, I wish I wish I WISH I had that. But I don’t.

You know what it’s like?

It’s like me and a deeply religious (Christian) person standing next to the casket of a loved one.  (A dead woman and a Christian male, for the sake of proper pronouns.)

If that religious person starts talking about his grief, I promise you I DO get it. I know he is hurting incredibly, and I’m NOT trying to downplay that when I say, “But… Take comfort, brother. For you, she’s somewhere safe and she’s watching over you. And one day, you will see her again.”

He believes all he has to do is try hard in life, and even if he messes up, he can just say he’s sorry and God will forgive him. And he lives with the comforting belief that one day, he will see this beloved woman again.

He stands before her body saying “Goodbye for now” while I stand there saying “Goodbye for always” and I simply cannot grasp what it must feel like to have that small comfort in grief.  And I am jealous.

I don’t have that element of peace and in a lot of ways, I wish I did.

And here’s the thing. For both the religious person who believes in God and an afterlife and the slave who believes in no matter what – the outcome truly doesn’t matter.

I’m not debating the reality of God, or the reality of “no matter what.” Both ideas are completely unimportant to this thought process.

The POINT is that for their lifetimes (in the case of the religious people), and for the duration of their relationships (for the slave), those people exist with a level of peace that I don’t have.

And even if it turns out that I’M right. If we all die and there is no afterlife… If that slave’s relationship ends in a disastrous break-up… Or, hell, if THEY’RE right and there is a God, or everyone who says “no matter what” truly means it –  it doesn’t matter, not to this discussion. Because either way, the fact remains that those people lived and experienced things in life with a peace that I never will.

So I’m a little jealous.

And I can’t force myself to believe in something I find inconceivable and irrational. So I know I’m STUCK being jealous.

And you know what?  It makes me pout.  It makes me amazed.  It makes me ask questions.  It makes me wonder.  It makes me see things a little differently than the people who DO believe.  Not that it’s a bad thing… It’s just… Different.

There are potential downsides, I’d wager, to having either of those faiths. Mostly in the form of self-righteous judgment and scorn. That’s not to say they are foregone conclusions. I’ve met plenty of religious people who are not looking down on me and my filthy soul, and I’d bet there are plenty of slaves who believe in “no matter what” who are not thinking they have something better – or even something fundamentally different. (I say “I bet” for the slaves, because I have only ever heard dk talk about that no matter what faith. I’m sure there are others, I just don’t know who they are.  Are they any of you guys?  Share!  Anyway, I’m pretty sure that even though I don’t share that faith with dk, she’s in the camp of not looking down on me. Well, I HOPE she is, at least! *grins*)

The chance to muse on this was awesome.  I’ll continue tomorrow, because I have lots more to talk about.  But I’m sick sick SICK today, so no more tonight (and no VFF pictures taken today and only two from yesterday, taken before sickness set in, which I’m too lazy to post now.  If anyone complains, I WILL post pictures of puke, I swear on everything I hold dear. I will.)

Anyway… Thanks, dk. I’m sorry the discussion came about because I came off sounding a little insensitive in my comment. I didn’t mean to.

I can just be a little childlike and abrupt in my moments of wonder.

I wrote this in my very first blog post:

The only thing I can concentrate on at the moment is that my blog has been titled by my Master as “She Obeys” and I’m kinda thinking there should be some qualifier there like “…Most of the time.”  (Read: If you came here looking for a chronicling of my utter perfection in slavery, you have come to the wrooooong place.)

This holds true. It was true on day one and it’s true now. This is not a chronicling of my utter perfection in ANYTHING. The only thing I do perfectly is braid hair. That, I ROCK at. Everything else? Not so perfect.

And I still think the title needs a qualifier.

Three months later:

I don’t kid myself and pretend I write for myself. I don’t. I write this for an audience, and for the chance to be heard and to gain insight from those willing to engage and maybe to make someone else think, even a little bit. Not a guarantee of these things, of course, but a chance.

This was spurred from a post from M:e. People talk about how they write only for themselves, or for their Masters. And… The question was basically, “Okay. But why make it public then?”

That was my answer then, and it’s still why I’m here.

And this, about six months in:

Antonio is the most important thing in my life – past, present, and future.  He matters more than everyone, everything, and everywhere else – combined.

This is true. It’s what makes me soar, and it’s what makes me ache. I love him so much, and I miss him deeply right now. He is my happiness.

Around nine months in:

I can be safe with a man who hits me.

I can love a man who humiliates me.

I can trust a man who is dishonest with me.

 Ah… Remember the Truths, Trust, and Honesty discussions? I do. I liked them. It meant a lot to me to be able to come to these conclusions verbally. They are always in my head, they may occasionally need some tweaking or bolstering up, but just writing them down is invaluable to me.

 

And just the other day:


I choose happiness.

I was talking about Christmastime in that last one. But I think it’s something to apply to my daily life, hey?

As I’ve made clear, I’m playing the part of Patient Girl at the moment. Waiting for pieces of his time as he lives out of a crappy hotel for work. If all goes well, he’ll be home in about a week. I cannot wait!  BUT… I have to wait.  So, in the meantime, while I wait for him to be able to talk through a whole lot of junk with me, I am trying to choose happiness.

 

So.  Anyway.  The point of all this…

I’ve been blogging for a YEAR now.

I have no idea how it happened.

(I suspect sorcery.)

Thank you, to everyone who has spent any of their time on me and my words, either here or off-blog.  From the moment we’re born, time is the ONLY  thing we’re guaranteed.  Not money, not health, not a family, nothing.  Nothing except time.  And we have NO idea how much of it. 

So it means the world to me that any of you would spend any of yours on me.

First off, VFFF has been updated… And with some awesome food, I must say.  In case anyone is too lazy to click off their readers and get to my actual blog to see this stuff – feel free to check it out with a simple click, right from where you’re sitting:

Day 1 ~~~ Day 2 ~~~ Day 3 ~~~ Day 4 ~~~ Day 5 ~~~ Day 6 ~~~ Day 7

Day 8 ~~~ Day 9 ~~~ Day 10 ~~~ Day 11

And now, since I am in uber-limbo, unable to communicate in a timely fashion with The Man, and I’m unable to talk about any of the stuff I’m waiting to hear back about anyway…  And because something came to my attention that I’ll address tomorrow…

I present the best in recent search terms!

“bestiality bitch meme”  Wait, where?  I wanna do it…

“i put my collar on her –poppin”   Ha.  Hahahahaha.  Except now “poppin” is in my blog.  Twice, actually. So that particular search will NEVER bring anyone here again.  *wipes single tear*

“humanely sourced leather”  If you find a way to slaughter an animal and rip off its skin in a way that is “marked or motivated by concern with the alleviation of suffering” you let me know.  In fact, go experiment on your favorite pet, and report back on how that act displayed “evidence of moral and intellectual advancement.”  Kthnx.

“andes mint parfait”  (as well as “cant find mint parfait andes”) I KNEW my Christmas cookie post last year would come back to haunt me unsuspecting homemakers around the holidays…  Wait.  Jesus Christ.  As of TOMORROW, I’ve been blogging for a year? WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN!?!

cpr short stories erotic resuscitation  Here you were, innocently trying to find a hot short story about erotic cpr [Editor’s Note:  Wait, seriously?], and you get one about a dead woman at my job, hey?  Sorry I killed your boner, man.

omg im bored at work  omg me too. 

“master slave fantasy piss breasts dog cunt -mistress –gay” Does anyone else get these ADD searches and want to forcibly shove Ritalin down the person’s throat?  Oh, that’s just me?  Whatever, you’re all mean anyway!

“bdsm conquered princess slave”  Mario. I thought instantly of Mario Bros. 

“f”  Yes.  That’s all.  The letter F.   Deep.

For the record, “breath play” is ALWAYS my number one search.  Always.  I don’t even do breath play.  Not that saying breath play a whole bunch here is going to help any, but… Still.

Do it yourself.

That’s the attitude I’ve adopted about Christmas recently.

(Incidentally, how hilarious is this t-shirt design?  I enjoy it immensely.)

Christmas used to be a hard time of year for me.  I’ve been very, very, VERY bad at accepting gifts because it makes me uncomfortable.  I’ve bought into the whole “omg, commercialism ruins the world” crap.  I’ve had crappy Christmases because my parents are divorced. Blah blah BLAHBLAHBLAH.

My mother once said she was going to cancel Christmas the following year because of what it did to me.

But… Fuck, I was being a selfish twat.

Christmas CAN BE every single bad thing you’ve every heard.  It can be a commercial nightmare, it can be corrupted and miserable, it can be stressful and even hurtful, it can cause arguments and family crisis.

Christmas can also be every good thing you’ve ever heard.  It can be magical and pure, delicious (for body and soul!) and soothing, it can be uplifting and fun, bright and renewing for you, your friends, and your family.

So… I CHOOSE to enjoy it.  I choose to take pleasure in giving and receiving.  I choose not to bitch and moan and get all emo about it.  I choose not to make it miserable for myself, or for anyone around me.  I choose to smile and be kind if someone says “Merry Christmas!” or if they choose to say “Happy Holidays!” instead, or even if they say nothing at all.

I choose to save a little money, and spend it on a child who would otherwise get nothing this year.  (My boss is sponsoring a child, and I’m going to buy a gift for him.  Ten years old and loves the Beatles, apparently!) 

I choose to be happy about Christmastime.

Because it IS my choice, and it will feel however wonderful or however awful I decide, because my attitude will chart the course for my feelings and my experience.  And frankly?  I’d rather have a good Christmas than a shitty one.   And since it’s my choice – I choose happiness.

So, yay.  Yay Christmas!

(Also, I swear I’ll update for yesterday’s VFFF in a moment.  This whole “uploading and posting pictures of food” thing EVERY day is… Well, hell.  My computer can barely handle it and the delays and crashes are doing my head in.  Today, it refused to turn on with the battery in.  So now I’m running it with no battery and it seems a little happier… Watch it crash as I go to upload pictures in a minute.  *sigh*)