Saturday night at home with the cats

Feeling good tonight. Feeling happy. Peaceful. Pretty. Light. Busy and focused but just mildly floaty.

I had my bangs trimmed today. That's enough right there to make me feel a bit lighter. There was just too much hair up there. Although it did feel weird to be calling up for an appointment to get my bangs trimmed without first getting permission from the philosopher. Unsettling. But I'm ok.

It was his birthday yesterday. We're in that short stretch of time when you could say he is only 21 years younger than me. Why, we're practically the same age!

Such a silly, meaningless thing to say.

We had a long post-debate phone conversation last night, divided into two parts: before and after my debate-party guests left. It was good. It felt really really good. It was all that other part of our relationship that was so wonderful when he would visit. A closeness, a comfortable closeness, an intimacy that comes from some intangible comfortable connection that has nothing necessarily to do with sex or submission. And yet, it can't be totally separate from it, as our swimming in BDSM meant revealing all our vulnerabilities and that sort of nakedness is bound to create an intense intimacy unless you are putting up steel-lined walls against it.

So we had that part. The warm friendly comfortable part. And it was good.

But I'm learning not to fool myself each time we have one of these comfortable interactions where I don't go off and cry or regret afterwards. I'm starting to accept that it is naive of me to trumpet "I am cured! I can see! I can walk!" after each one. It doesn't happen that fast. It just doesn't. But eventually I'll be ok. And I did feel good today.

So here I sit, on the couch, in the company of Marko and Hot Jazz Saturday Night, working on a volunteer project for next weekend, thinking about how I wish someone would make me independently wealthy so I didn't have to worry about work getting in the way of life and poetry and music and submission. And smiling.

I sent my first text message today, in response to one from the collector. A tedious project, sending a little text message, but I suppose I could get better at it eventually. Except that now I pay for each one, so I'm in no hurry to do a lot more - or wouldn't be if it didn't feel so wonderful. It made me feel very owned. On standby waiting for word of the needs or commands of my manipulative mentor. It's so curious how such a small thing can be so arousing with just a slight shift in context.

The feeling of being tethered made me shiver and glow. And although what my demon muse is creating with and through me is a completely separate issue from what is or is not going on with the philosopher, it does help, again and again, to know that I am a valued property and that my sadistic Svengali has enticing plans for me which I don't yet fully know or understand.

So I'm happy on the couch with Marko and my laptop, even with too much to do and not enough time to do it.

Besides, the new year begins Monday night as Jews celebrate the birth day of the world.

I am gestating. I am growing into something new and glorious. My tutor is sitting on me, Horton hatching his egg of many colors, and when I emerge he will spank me hard and I will cry and then burst into song.

And the world will look new.