:: Bleu ::

"For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying." -Rilke
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:: Sunday, March 17, 2002 ::

The Scary Thing
For the last 4 months there has been something horrible stirring at the
corners of my consciousness...something that keeps making little scritchy
noises because it wants out, something that might devour me, something too
terrible to Name. It won't go away on it's own so I must do what I do with
every intense emotion--purge. Sometimes these things free themselves in the
music I write or in a journal. This one needs to come out in G and I's

It is a whole series of death...my death. I have images in sepia tones of
being in the forest, naked tied, with leaves stuck to my body and dirt and
cuts on my feet, rope around my neck. Sometimes there is a plastic bag over
my head instead. Sometimes it is black and white shots where I'm in a
snow field and the only contrast is my dark hair, bare trees, and blood.
Other times it's harsh lighting and you can only see the back of me, floating face down in a tub, a garrote around my neck, pink-tinged water.

It terrifies me. I terrify me. I don't have these kind of thoughts, visions. What is this violence? Why? I don't know where it's coming from or why--and why, out of all things, do I need to vomit this into manifestation? Why this compulsion to see myself--out of my mind's eye and pressed into a physical form? What is my consciousness trying to say? What needs to be heard?

I think the key is the bathtub. I think in the deep pit of me, I know exactly what this is about--but I'm not ready to touch it. It's black and sticky and I cannot love it. I cannot embrace it. I cannot call it mine.

:: 12:53 PM [+] ::

I really need to start my meditation practice up again. I'm stewing over work AGAIN this morning and dreading going there tomorrow. How stupid. Work's not thinking about me right now. WHY am I mulling over something that happened 2 days ago instead of donig my favorite activity of all: enjoying a lazy (and sunny!!) Sunday morning. I'll fix a bowl of rice, a bowl of miso, and a bowl of oranges for brunch and put things in perspective. I don't make enough money to care about this. I'm safe, sound, and fairly happy. I just need to learn that my job ISN'T my life. I do enough in my life to have an identity larger than just my job. I'm losing time I don't have thinking about it.

Listening to: Radio-80's flashback show
:: 11:08 AM [+] ::
:: Saturday, March 16, 2002 ::

Well, a bit of snow for just a bit. Now it's just crappy rain. Which also means that I don't have any more excuses not to plant the wildflower seeds on the side yard. Sir's been quizzing me this morning about when I think I'm going to start the vegetable garden--and that I still don't have a plan for the front yard. I still want an English garden in the front...it's just that I've never landscaped in my life and it kind of frightens me. How to achieve the "messy" look without having it look atrocious?

In other news, I received a very early birthday present. Extreme: Photo Anthology of Extreme Lifestyles Needless to say that I'm itching to get in front of the camera again, my mind full of ideas. I've been thinking about buying a camera of my very own. I am truly ignorant when it comes to photography and I'd like to learn. I'm hot over pin-up shots...and that might be easier if I was doing self-portraits. I think I'd be too tempted to mug if someone else was behind the camera. Sir has some thoughts about doing some fairly crude porn shots. While that's not really my style AT ALL, I am just happy is showing a mild interest in what I constantly obsess about. Not like I get a choice in whether I want to do it or not. :) I think the thought of giving me away excites him..but not to the extent that he'd really want to do it. Posting nasty shots of me on the web fulfills it. Heh...I'm just worried my family would see it.

Currently listening to: DJ Dara
:: 2:06 PM [+] ::
Ahhh...I'm now officially sex starved.

When I was in a vanilla relationship--I kept thinking about kinky sex. Now that I'm kinky again...I seem to crave vanilla sex. No, not vanilla...just what I was before this relationship. I hung out with the ex tonight and was told that I've changed. (no duh!) I just wasn't expecting him to say what he did. Unfortunately, this is the second man in my life who has noticed the shift since I've been with Sir. Basically, it's that I don't give off any sexual energy anymore--one of my most alluring qualities. Perhaps my only alluring quality. I am no longer a sensualist. I was told that I have been the female-equivalent of castrated.

Well, it's true.

I do remember myself as someone who loved my sex, my sexuality. I do remember myself as someone who loved to touch, taste, kiss, bite, lick, smell, feel. I remember being an active participant. I remember kissing and fondling and being able to touch my partner. I remember how desperate I wanted to memorize everything about my lover, explore him, experience him.

Sure, I'm still sexual occasionally--but it's a low priority. (that sounds so foreign). My sex has been twisted, morphed. I've done it to myself to be able to get some pleasure out of whatever is happening at the moment. So while I fantasize about the person I used to be--and ache to let that person come out...I think she's gone. I don't think I can get off like that anymore. I think I could be turned on for a few moments--but then needing that harshness, that feeling of being nothing more than a receptacle--a living doll. All that energy (so overwhelming) is now plugged into service. (Oh the irony--I always believed I could only be a pleasure slave.) Most of the time, I accept it as fact. Tonight, though, it leaves me sad.

Even if I would dare to see if I was the same sexually, I would have too much anxiety. What to do? How to do it? That angers me a bit. I've lost my confidence in the ability to please anyone but Sir. If there is anyone after him--what on earth am I going to do? I'll be a fumbling moron. The one thing I was always sure of, the one talent I have---gone.

I'm going to blame this pity party on lack of sleep. I've dealt with it for too long to have it be an issue again. That and the fact that I've not seen Sir much for the last 2 weeks due to family issues, work issues, etc. I seem to get out of sorts. I've chosen this life--and I've chosen him more than once--can't feel bad about it now.
:: 12:35 AM [+] ::
:: Wednesday, March 13, 2002 ::
Who am I?
A 20-something girl in the Pacific Northwest with 2 kitties, 80 goldfish (we'll see how many make it through the winter), and a very complicated Sir.

What am I into?
Anything that amuses me for the moment. I am an information whore and a new-experience slut who bores easily. My current interests include: shibari, fetish modeling, triathlons, reading Taoist and Sufi literature, geishas, service, yoga, gardening, weight lifting, attempting to understand quantum physics, sumi painting, etiquette, power dynamics in relationships, writing one half-decent haiku, antique medical equipment, ikebana, becoming the model 50's housewife (i'm unmarried), investing money, hiking local mountain ranges, scaring myself silly, learning to cook, red wines, being the occasional dj, managing Sir, and my ongoing internal debates on whether I should pursue a Masters degree.

Why am I doing this?
Hell if I know. Maybe someone out there will read this and will relate to me. Or, it's just that I'm narcissistic enough to want to see myself on the web.

What I'm reading
I tend to read a few books at a time, depending on my mood. Currently on my night stand is: The Slave by Laura Antoniou, Illusion's Game: The Life and Teaching of Naropa by Chogyam Trungpa, and Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas Hofstander

Currently listening to
Bach-- to wind me down

I have much to write, but it shall have to wait for another day....
:: 11:15 PM [+] ::

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