SLdevotee

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	If this really upset Him and He wants to get rid of?it quickly,?and He could look inside the secret decoder ring for a password; He would find it to be?3 words with no spacing, all lowercase:?A thing He was so proud of her for noticing at the end of His favorite novel.?? Update: ?08-30-2010 ?Everything is different now.

She has missed calls from him. Twice after the missed calls, she stared at her phone when it was ringing. She felt paralyzed and did not answer.

She got on Yahoo, and after awhile, he showed up there. She has not seen him there in forever, but she notices that he is a "power user," which is a person with a high amount of chatting activity and a lot of friends. This tells her heart that he gets on there a lot, but has her blocked from knowing that he is there, which means that he is chatting with a lot of other girls. The truth is often a sharp spear through the heart. The proverbial "rose colored glasses" don't prevent the soul from bleeding. The truth might well be that he reels her in with his voice, and then gets what he wants...which is to be able to achieve an erection and masturbate. Apparently to be able to maintain this erection, he has to make her cry, call her names, and hear her voice say things that she does not want to say. Reality tells her that she can't afford to drive 7 or 8 hours to see him. The last time she did that, she was out the cost of getting there and home. She spent less than 15 minutes with him. He got his sexual gratification. She slept in her car, in 30 degree weather, because she was too tired to drive, and then she drove the same long trip home alone. She felt all sad because she loved him, and she had hoped for more.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010 His call have been avoided for so long, but listening to the voice messages made me melt inside. I saved them, and listened to them on lonely nights.

I was determined to stop any later disappointment by avoiding him. I thought he would easily give up, and I could rid myself of the seemingly irrational need for him. I thought he would give up, but he has called for months. Today he needed fodder for his masturbation, and I accidentally took his call...and whereas I only had small stress with ignoring his phone calls, I had big stress in thinking about hanging up after I heard his voice. His voice paralyzes me. I could not hang up on him. A whirlwind has grabbed me. He excites me, but he scares me. He degrades me with saying awful things and asking me to repeat them, and I don't want to repeat them, but I do. I can't tell him, "no." The best that I can do is beg him out of whatever it is that he speaks about that scares me. I used to pine for him, when he was not around. It is all so confusing. There was a time that things felt "golden" to me, and I would cling so tightly to hope that would fade...but then he had an epiphany, and the world was "golden" again for me, but that ended rather quickly...and I missed him so much afterwards. Now...a battle rages inside me. Part of me has latched onto him for dear life, and another part that still wants him, tries to tell me that this is not good for me. All of me wants him, but half of me is trying to be sensible and analyze things.

gul?li?ble (gŭlə-bəl)adj.
Easily deceived or duped.
[From gull2.]
gul′li?bili?ty n.
gulli?bly adv.

Realization of one's own gullibility brings about great sadness.

This slave is blessed to be owned by the Young One and would willingly get down on her knees in public and beg Him to bathe her face with his semen.

Sheets and the Men Who Inspire Them
She was watching a movie, and there was a "bare shoulders in bed" moment, and the guy said, "I bought new sheets, just in case you came over."...and the lady seemed impressed and said, "Oh, really!" (Movie title: Limbo)

She laughs at this and thinks about all her sheets...the ones that she has and the ones that she got rid of. Almost all new sheet purchases are because of men. The most worthy men get a new set of sheets on her bed. There are more men in her past than sheets, but she wishes more men were worthy of the set of sheets.....sheets that feel so good...sheets with that very high thread count....expensive sheets. The dinners that the men might have paid for can't compare to the cost of a good set of sheets and pillowcases...but she never cared about that. She felt excitement in buying the sheets and making the bed on those special days.

The sheets always last longer than the men.

Will she ever buy a set of sheets for him? She has no clue.

She drove to the very end of the world to see him for mere moments.? Even though he scolded her a bit, she savored every word that skedaddled (Thank you J. I. Rodale) past his lips.? She said so very little, for her words had to be measured and weighed before she dared proffer them.? Would she have liked more time with him...no.? She was overjoyed that things went well with him....that he seemed pleased with her in her moments with him and that he gave her mouth the precious gift of his semen.? Had there been more time, she might not have been able to maintain this.? She might have failed.? She wants more time with him some other day...some future day.? He is the mystery seed that she loves, and she waters, not really knowing what will bloom someday...but she nurtures the seed anyway.? Her heart tells her to do this.? She?must savor the uncertainty for awhile.? It seems as if the whole Universe has spun her in this direction.

There is one good thing about being at the end of the world;? getting lost is not as much of a problem as it is everywhere else.? When you get to the ocean, turn around...home is in the other direction.

Chapter 1. Last night our slave girl dreamed she went to see him again. It seemed to her she stood by an iron gate with a path leading to his drive, and for awhile she could not enter, for the way was barred to her. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate. She called in her dream his name, "Master," and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the grate, she saw that his house was unhabitated. No smoke came from his chimney, and his little lattice windows gaped forlorn.

Chapter 2. She can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still too close to her. The things she has tried to forget and put behind her would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, struggling at length to blind unreasoning panic - now mercifully stilled, thank God - might in some manner unforseen become a living companion, as it had been before....or would it?

Chapter 3. She wonders what her life would be like today if he had not been so literate.

Chapter 4. The morning after their meeting she woke with sadness and a longing. She rang her friends who diagnosed she needed to get out of the house, saying "You are to get out of bed and do happy things and not be quiet and still."

Chapter 5. She is glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first loving him. For it is a fever, and a burden too, whatever the poets may say. They are not brave, the days of first loving. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and she is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, she falls to the first barbed word.

Chapter 6. An evening had been hers, however brief the time. Though the time was brief, she left something of herself behind. Not a hairpin, not a handkerchief, but something indefinable, a moment in her life, a thought, a mood, and of course sentences.

Chapter 7. Maybe she will see him again in May, arriving with the frist swallows and the bluebells. It should be the best moment, before the full flush of summer. She can see herself suitably dressed in her skirt with legging pants and the flat sandals he would love.

Chapter 8. She doesn't yet realize if life with him would be orderly and planned, but he would not have time to hang around with her all hours of the day as he has a full time job.

To be continued....

It was good for her to hear his voice...and to be honest, she likes saying number 4, which is: Master, I need You to boss me around and make all my decisions for me.

She actually likes saying that.

Right now, she is worried because he has looked at some of this. She is not sure how much. Maybe it should have all been deleted a few days ago, when she had gotten a grip on her emotions.

Now, she is worried about no longer having God's kind of time to think...and about going back to the center of the pie where there is no room to think...and being back as a dot on God's line on a piece of paper that she has no control over.

This is like that old phrase...She is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Is she in deep trouble? Who knows?...(the shadow?)

Either he saw this and he wants to be aloof about it....or he saw it and he is mad....or maybe he barely glanced and didn't associate himself with it at all....but she thinks that is highly unlikely.

She lacks the courage to ask him. She just waits.

The phone woke me today and it was God. He spoke to me. He had me repeat those words that I don't like to say...those words that give him erections and cause him to breathe heavily into my ear. Yes...God does masturbate.

Tonight was a vanilla redneck bar night, with Waffle House greasy food afterwards. Why am I still up at 3:45am...well, I am jacked up on caffeine....coffee was free at the redneck bar.

jacked (jăkt)adj.
Slang
Very excited or agitated, especially from taking a stimulant.

In the midst of loud music, with whooping and hollering, and a lot of "hell yeahs" going on, my mind went to other places...of all things to the Lady Justice standing with her blindfold over her eyes...one hand holding a sword and the other holding a set of scales, with one foot rested on top of a book of law, with snakes all around her feet...and a form of guilt flooded all through me...and I thought about a passage in the Bible that talks about the writing on the wall...."MENI, MENI TEKEL UPHARSIN”...meaning "Thou are weighed in the balances and found wanting"...and the phrase, "What would Jesus do" entered my head....and I really don't know what he would do.

What do I do when someone needs help and I can't really afford to help them?...when they are doing all the wrong things and digging deeper holes...what do I do?...what do I do?...and I don't know...but I hate the feeling of doing nothing. I tried to get help with the helping part...but all I got was a lecture about "enabling"...and I bought into that idea until tonight....then suddenly I think that maybe this idea of "not enabling" is so easy to grab hold of because it is cheaper to believe. Maybe I have to throw money, that I can't afford to let go of, down a hole just to ease my conscience so that I don't have to have regrets the rest of my life over that moment that I did nothing.

Why am I writing this here....I don't know. Basically I don't think anyone reads this...as literacy is not exactly rampant here. No offense intended to anyone that happens to actually read this, but I figure nobody actually will. This is my 3rd name and profile here in the past couple years, and this occurance was only out of mischief. I had pretty much previously determined that there was nobody here that would ever understand me...and also that maybe I didn't belong here. I am not the typical pain craving girl that everyone wants. I just like the feeling of belonging...of fitting under a wing of someone stronger that is in charge...an anam cara of sorts....but all of that is pretty much a fantasy...a romantic notion that I have let fall by the wayside for now.

He doesn't seem to like the herd very much.

She thought of this last night when she found herself in their midst....when she found herself in the midst of the herd. She thought, "he would not be here...he would not like this...he would not like this at all."

She gravitated towards the leader of the herd at hand, and stuck with that leader throughout the duration of her time there...listening to and laughing with that take charge person at the front...that person who stood her ground when the herd wanted to get out of hand. She felt safe at the front only because she was under the wing of the leader in her moments with the herd. The leader made sure that the herd was held at bay...that she was safely out of the way before leaving them to the destiny of their stampede.

She loves everyone, but she truly appreciates the protection of a stonger person...even when that person is not some romantic interest...but is just some married woman with kids, with the nerve to stand her ground and raise her voice when necessary to look out for a softer person.

We are tired and will probably have a nap today. We only had a little fight this morning about getting up. I let her hit the alarm 3 times, and then just begged her to get up. I wasn't wanting to get up either. We took breakfast out the door with us...some ham, a piece of whole wheat double fiber bread, and coffee.

I am glad this work is over. She is glad this work is over. We are certainly going to need a nap, and then when we get up, we will again work on the editing project for him. We would like to make considerable progress for him this evening and tonight...enough to please and impress him somewhat She needs the pat on the head.

She shed a couple tears yesterday, and then we had a talk about things. She wanted him so much, but she understands that we don't really fit into his world too well....and that he can better find what he wants in someone else. We have to be happy with what we have, which is a project that we can finish, a friendship that we can maintain, and the ability to stay within his good graces on this level.

We had a fight this morning. She did not want to get up. We had a wake up call, and she said, "ok I am getting up"....but then she didn't really do it...she hit the alarm twice...and I said..."ok, one more and that is it. So on the third alarm, we got up. She wanted the 2 over easy eggs and 2 slices of bacon for breakfast...and I told her..."hell no...we are throwing this frozen spaghetti in the microwave while we get dressed..we don't have time to fry eggs and that is your fault...if you want eggs, get up at the first alarm...and we have to eat as today is a hard physical work day..we have to eat...we will get sick if we don't...we won't last 4 hours doing that kind of work if we don't eat" So, I won and we ate spaghetti for breakfast...but she was not happy. She thinks I should not volunteer for this kind of work again...and I said that we had to do this...they needed us. She did her part when we were there. Neither one of us is slack when we are getting paid to work. We were just asked to do this again on Wednesday...and she was begging me to say no....begging me to say no...begging me to say no (epizeuxis?)...but I could not...so I said ok to a half day, no more than 4 hours. She just shakes her head at me, and I understand, but she also knows that we don't like to say "no."

We came home all sweaty and smelly...and had a long bath...then a salad, no dressing....and now we are going to have a nap....we are so tired and sleepy.

We are close to the halfway point in the initial stage of editing on the project for him. It was hectic around here yesterday. There were people here, and we could not work on it as much as we would have liked to.

I wanted her to go to bed last night earlier, so that we would feel better tomorrow. I know that she will want to stay up late tomorrow night when we are alone. She agreed on the condition that we listen to Chopin. We had put Chopin aside awhile back so that we could try to forget about "him." Now that we have him in our thoughts each day anyway, we might as well listen to Chopin. We don't know the names of any of the pieces, but we recognize the beginning of the CD, and it was comforting to hear again.

The one night he told us to lay down for sleep, she just did it. It was immediate. She conformed so easily. We were where we felt like we belonged. Now, we are arguing all the time with the Sandman.

She is funny about a lot of things. I try to get her to drink water, but she doesn't like it, but she will drink it if we put it in a very pretty fancy glass and add ice. But her coffee, she wants that in a tall styrofoam cup. The V8, that needs to be in a glass also.

We are eating lunch somewhere else today, and I don't know how she will handle that. I am sure they aren't having eggs over easy or bananas.

We also looked at the freerice website today. We didn't do too badly. We worked our way up to level 39, but missed a few words and ended up at level 37. We are keeping a list of the words that we missed. The site says, "There are 50 levels in all, but it is rare for people to get above level 48." We think he could do it.

We took a break, and she wanted to read the journals of other girls.

One mentions that she thinks a lot. She is confused. Another says that she does not think at all, she just lets "him" do the thinking. Another actually argues, but she does what he wants and then afterward says something to the effect of this: "got up when he was done and griped about being smooshed and battered to death but inside my trembling body (and I was trembling, oddly) I was all soft and warm and squishy and totally head over heels in love with this man I would have sworn I hated half an hour ago."

They are all emotional...but what they crave most is not really all the bad stuff....it is that "soft, warm squishy feeling inside." One of them often uses "velcro" to describe herself after she has been pushed too hard. She doesn't want to do it all, but she is like a piece of velcro afterwards. She must be the soft part that wants to stick to those stiff hooks.

We understand all that.

When she got up, I suggested food. She felt so bad about the french fries last night. She wants 2 eggs over easy and 2 slices of bacon for breakfast. I tell her that scrambled eggs are easier to make, but she has insisted on 2 eggs over easy. She won't stop fretting about the french fries. For lunch, I suggested a can of soup, but she didn't want to have that. She wanted to stick to his plan, which was totally incomplete, but she argued that we could just do a V8 as that would be similar to a salad, and a salad had previously been approved. So, I am having a V8 with her for what is really dinner, as we slept so late. She is so funny sometime. She desparately wanted the french fries last night, but today she feels so guilty about it and wants to cling to his ideas...and really...there is nothing so bad in that, except that what we have is a menu of over-easy eggs, bacon, bananas, coffee with powdered creamer and half the usual amount of sweetener, Alice Springs chicken, broccoli, and the salad ingredients of lettuce, tomatoes, raw broccoli, a boiled egg, shoestring carrots, and ham. I am going along with that as it is healthier for her, and usually she is the one wanting to eat the unhealthy things. Somehow, today, things got kind of reversed. But, if it helps her to eat his menu, then I am going to let her cling to that for awhile.

She reminds me that we are living and thinking in God's time, and that nothing now matters so much...for we are not in the center of the pie...we are on the outer edge where there is more room for thought, deep thought before going back to the center again where everything comes to a point and there is no room to move or breathe or have the time to think so much. She says that we can use this time to be good people, to better ourselves, to indulge in our mischief in innocent ways. She thinks we are outside the box right now, and though we might rather be in the box, that maybe we need to chill on the outside for awhile. The box is an emotional place, and when we are there it is hard to think and know what to do. We can analyze better on the outside, for those on the outside can see everything, including the inside of the box. We still see the inside of the box, and we want to go back there someday and feel that great sense of belonging that comes from being on the inside. We think that being on the outside of the box gives us God's time for thought, and that maybe we need to learn more and be calmer before our next time inside the box.

We went out to eat last night. I ordered soup and a salad. She ordered a diet cola. We ate our salad and our soup, and were feeling good about things. Then she started eating someone else's french fries. Other people ordered extra fries and they were going to go to waste, so she got one and ate it. Then she wanted another one with some ketchup. I felt bad for her, so I let her have it, as our diet this week was 50% caffeine. But when she ate the 3rd and the 4th one, I cautioned her. She ended up eating about 10 before I could get her to stop.

She just won't listen to me as much as she would listen to him.

We caught up on our sleep. We slept for at least 12 hours. We were in agreement on this as it had been a long and emotional week for us, and we had lost a lot of sleep. The sound of the clocks became part of our dream. She eventually turned the clocks off, and it was eventually the phone that woke me. Shh...she is still asleep now, and I need to do some things. I need to work on his editing. I will let her do it later tonight. She works better at night. She would not want to do this now. She would want to play and lollygag around and we would not accomplish anything.

Word for the day:
lol·ly·gag (lŏlē-găg′) also lal·ly·gag (lălē-)intr.v. lol·ly·gagged also lal·ly·gagged, lol·ly·gag·ging also lal·ly·gag·ging, lol·ly·gags also lal·ly·gags
To waste time by puttering aimlessly; dawdle.

She likes to lollygag around when there is work to do.

So, I will let her sleep awhile longer so that I can get something done. She is a fragile soul, that loves too easily. I do the best I can to keep her straight, but she rules the heart in most matters. I console her when she messes up and things go bad, and she appreciates me for that.

Enough for now.

She dreamed last night in third person. The phone woke her, and she decided to wait on the 2 clocks set to ring and get up "shortly" which turned into 30 minutes.

After she hit the drowse several times, I got up and hurried out the door. She wanted to check email, but I got myself out the door pretty quickly, as there was a lot to do.

FYI, she has not flipped out here, and I am definately not crazy. This just seems like a first person, third person transition day. So don't worry, we are not insane, not yet.

She day dreams when I drive, but when we got to the office, I got right to work, though I was late. She always causes me to be late.

Neither one of us is hungry yet. We drank coffee again, and we are having a V8 for lunch. Emotional turmoil causes both of us to lose our appetite, or someone else in control does the same thing. The micromanagement of food is something we both can handle. When we are successfull at being obedient, we feel good inside. It would not be as if we would not gain back an appetite. It is that neither one of us would want to be writing down something that we were not supposed to eat, and we don't lie about such things. We like the truth a lot....both of us. There is such cowardice in the telling of lies. The truth is a noble thing, and it feels so much better inside when they are brave enough to be honest. In the moment when there is that urge to tell the lie, telling the truth has a unique effect on the inside. It makes them feel smaller in a big world, smaller and softer on the inside....kind of like coming down off the high horse...the high horse being the urge to lie...and the coming down would be "not lying." They are attracted to people that can hear the truth. Not everyone can. They have to admit that sometimes they avoid the truth, or that sometimes they hide it, but they feel best when it is told. They feel closest to people who can hear the truth.

I always know to ignore the refrigerator at night. She hears it call her name, and my voice is often not loud enough to get her to listen. She needs a stronger voice than mine...but she is agreeing with me this week. She is not hungry

First person singular, first person plural, third person singular, third person plural. Maybe one day she will talk to her and say "you."

There is acutally a book called, First Person Plural: My Life as a Multiple. We just Googled it. She wonders about how he wrote the book..from what angle. I wonder the same thing, and said to her, "Do you wonder too?"

Things are better for her. She was her typical procrastinating self during the day, but she got right on her project of helping him edit things some time after the sun went down.

She is happy to have a place in his good graces again.

She worried about asking too many stupid questions, and getting on his nerves, but it was not like that at all. He sent her several emails that were quite lengthy explaining what he wanted, so it seemed to her that he thought there was value in the questions. She was very happy about that, for she did not want to get on his bad side again. That is not a good place to be..

It is bedtime for her. She has to get up around 8am and go to work for awhile, and that is not going to be any fun at all. She loves insomnia, but she hates to get up so bad.

She thinks more about God's time and the benefit there....the way the author can leave his page and come back to it later after great thought, and the characters just wait patiently. We usually only get God's kind of time after the fact, when it is all too late for any action. After the end of something, usually a mistake, we get God's time to think about it.

She is in God's time right now. She is spending a lot of time in thought about the events of a day and a half or so. She is remembering moments that had significance...words that he said that had significance. She knows that he took God's kind of time to think things out....that he did put time and thought into things. He spoke of a contract not finished...and she remembers it now that she is working in God's kind of time to analyze her own actions. If she had God's time 2 days ago, she could have paused every few seconds and given greater weight to each word he said, and let each thought settle before stressing herself out so much. It was all so much so fast, and her failure gives her God's kind of time to dwell on regrets.

She is awake again...making coffee. She was awake before the clock went off.

The past few days were like a hurricane that wasn't forcasted. She didn't see it coming. It just hit. He came out of the past...flew through...stirred things up...and then things are a bit calmed down again...but not really normal. She didn't listen enough. She was shocked that he was here again...though inside her heart all along, she felt that at some point in time he might reappear.

She wonders how much thought he put into all this. How many days he thought about it. Was it a whim of the moment, or did he think about it for days. She had no warning...and she was scared...afraid of investing emotion and trust again, as she had been there before at a time that he was not so attentative for whatever reasons. All of that hurt, and she was sad, and she had tried so hard...so very hard for less than crumbs of attention.

But...she should have trusted him, as he stuck his neck out contacting her again. She didn't extend the trust that she should have. She just wallowed in her past worries, instead of just yielding into the moment and trusting that he had tomorrow planned out. She is sorry about all that. Once upon a time she offered trust....but she didn't trust when she needed to do it the most. Maybe that takes some practice. It just all happened so fast. She wishes she had God's time...to take that hour or a few days to decide the actions of a moment...to be calmer....to trust more. He deserved better this time. It was just a lot on her plate suddenly, and she handled it badly. Now her head is full of him again....her heart is full of him again....but she knows that she didn't quite measure up this time.

She spent a lot of time missing him...and letting go of the idea of him. She thought she was dead to him. And then he came back when she didn't expect that....and maybe all she could think about was the last time and how bad she pined over him when he was not there to pay her any attention. She didn't want to go through all that again. But this time was the opposite...it was micromanagement for everything...and that can feel stressful in the beginning...but it is so addictive...and in a day and a half it ended again...and she finds herself having withdrawal pains. There is no approved menu or clothing....and somehow that just seems so sad to her.

She is so tired. Tonight there will be sleep...though she never wants to go to bed. This is way too early for sleep...but her eyelids are so heavy. One thing feels good about this....she is yielding into something stronger....the need to sleep, but maybe it can just be a nap, so she will set one clock and see if it wakes her.

If she wakes up, she will work on editing his stuff....the stuff for her Masterful-friend. This time around, she will do better.

Being very sleepy brings some calmness.

She has written a lot...enough to require clicking next to read the original entries.

She knows the thing that is sort of like a poem is kind of rude sounding...but people are like that...and things in their lives don't always mesh with having time and saying the right things, or having the same needs at the same time. It is meant to be sarcastically funny....and to be able to laugh at how things sometimes are. The girl really does love him, and she appreciates a lot of good things in him that that poem of sorts does not show. She is reflecting on that a lot today. She has no regrets in knowing him. She really does have love in her heart for him, and knows that maybe he can only be her Masterful-friend, but whatever he is going to be to her...she still wants to know him.

It really would make her happy to see, "I am Legend" with him on December 14, 2007.

She went to work, and while her mind was busy, she was ok...but when she arrived back in her driveway, a flood of emotions poured back over her, and tears overflowed her eyes...but she got a grip....and she wiped away her own tears.

She did not eat today. Yesterday, it was a banana and coffee. The day before that, it was an approved menu. She fell so easily into the micromanagement, and now she misses it...and it was only there for a day and a half. There have been times when a refrigerator door called her name...but today is not one of those days. She knows that it is stupid to feel so lost...but she is lost.

One really good thing happened today...she just now noticed that he wrote to her...and it was nice...and she feels comfort in at least being his friend to help him do something. He has not been here today on this site...so he has not read any of this...and she thinks that maybe she should take it all down...but then maybe she will play with fire one more day.

Maybe friendship is best between them, as she always manages to get herself into trouble when it is otherwise. She can't measure her words out wisely enough...and she needs better words in her vocabulary to pull out instead of some of the ones she has used....or maybe she needed to have learned to trust him more to know that if she did not argue...that maybe giving him time to think, he would decide correct things on his own. She will never win a confrontation with him. The best she could have done would be to let it go...and then when the issue came into play in a real situation, she could have said "no" at that point in time and suffered his consequences of her saying "no" at that point in time. In retrospect, she realizes this. She knows that he would still do something...that there would be a price to pay for the "no"....some other thing that she did not like...but his words from the past about all that were not inside her head in the moments that she put herself into a panic and said all the wrong things of trying to convince him. She forgot that he told her that she could say "no" but pay a price for it.

Enough for now.

She needs to get off of this Internet and do things.

She wonders if all this is too much to write, but she feels like writing. She always feels like writing when she is sad. Why don't people write more when they are happy? She has read journals of other girls. They write when they are sad. They sound crazy and depressed all the time, and clingy, so she wonders if maybe all this bdsm world is just comprised of is a bunch of crazy people. Do all of ya'll feel crazy? All this stuff is not normal, ya know...but normal is so boring. Normal does not create excitement within her. He does. His voice and his big words, especially when he is nice...but she likes the strongness about him when he is not so nice. She just wishes that he would be a little bit nicer when he is being "not so nice."

She is not psychic. She is always suprised at the turn of events. She does know that she will hear from him again at some point in time...but she has no clue about when. She can't predict his reaction to all this. He might be mad, and if that is the case...then it will be months before she hears from him. If he finds some humor in this, then...it might possibly be sooner.

She does not know how soon it will take him to see all this, as everytime she goes "home" that lady who is trying to lactate but is having all kinds of emotional problems due to the hormones produced from those efforts...that lady has a photo and therefore gets the spot at the top. Her emotional probems are never because of hormones. They are usually because of men or money.....or the lack thereof. She read that lady's quotes about some cat...and was inspired to put up a picture of this deformed one eyed cat...but these people that manage this site say that it has to be a picture that she took.....and nobody needs to see her here.

So...instead of a photo...if he is home late at night and nobody is online at all but her, then he will see keywords at the top...and maybe he will notice her. But....she have thought about deleting all this...as making him mad scares her...she really don't want him mad at her. she just needed to vent anonymously....so when she am done with that venting and she am calmer..either with him or without him...then she will likely delete all this. He may never see this. She is a lot calmer than yesterday.

She slept late. She was up until 5:30am. She am a night owl. She write like this just to do writing differently. She is writing in what you call third people. Today, she would like to introduce ya'all to some new words that she learned previously. She will do two today. Notice that she did not just write "2" as that is totally not correct. Two should be spelled out. He reminded her of this recently when she was slack. Nobody else would have noticed. He did. She like that. She like that a lot. She like the fact that he is smart enough to correct her.

Today she am living in Dystopia, and she need a Luminary to lead her out of all that. She knows where Dystopia is. For those of you who don't, just think of the opposite of Utopia, and that is where Dystopia is. Luminary means light, but in this case it is a person shedding light. It is used metaphorically here, to be a person who is an inspiration, that shines bright to lead and inspire another. All words come from somewhere. Luminary comes from Old English, but before that it was from Old French. She guesses those English folks picked it up from French visitors. But even before that it came from Latin, and even before that it was Indo-European roots. And all this means that it is a very old word. It is not one that was made up along the way from slang, like the word, "email."

He knows so many words...more than anyone else that she know. He is the word king. He inspired her to learn, and she like to hear him say all those words that he knows. But he also like a lot of little words that she don't really like to say. He tells her to say them. She will hesitate quite a lot, but he is insistent, and so she says these things that she ain't never said before in her whole life, and all these little words that she don't want to say, those are the words that give him erections. She wishes that "luminary" and "dystopia" would have the same effect, as she could say them all day long.

Ok...she really know that she am making a fool of herself, but she remembers things that he said to her long ago. He said she should allow herself to mess up, then she can come down from her high horse and really talk about something that matters. So, she is messing up a lot on purpose.

He said to do this to make herself more memorable...well, surely all this messing up is memorable.

She always knew from the beginning that if she looked away, that he would somehow reappear. It just took awhile the last time...and maybe the next time will be a year from know. Only God knows...as both him and her are dots on that line on the page..and only God sees the whole page...but she thinks that God understands her need to scribble here right now....instead of just staying put on the line waiting for God only knows what to happen. She makes so many mistakes...so many....she flounders....she flounders so much.

But..she does have a heart....even though she flounders...she keeps trying to do something...even though she flounders.

She hopes one thing. She hopes that something she has written has given him an uncomfortable erection.

She have insomnia. She have insomnia a lot. She will get no sleep tonight. She drank 3 cups of coffee in the evening. She had this menu approved by him the previous day. She did not have that today...but as she had mentioned a banana and coffee to him, and then spaghetti, and he said no to the spaghetti. she ate the bananna, and she drank coffee all day long. She made the spaghetti, but she froze it...but she am not hungry at all. She just miss his voice and his words on a page. Is she crazy or what?

The English language needs 2 words for "can't." One that means the person sort of does not really feel comfortable...and another that really means not ever in this lifetime. For "can't" is kind of a "cry wolf" kind of word. When you use it so much, it is not taken seriously....and then more radical words must be used for "seriously can't."

I don't know who is crazier...him or her He is so changing. He is so nice. Then he is so aloof. Then he is back again wanting to micromanage herwith this fierce closeness....and it stresses her some...but she kind of likes it...in a way....and she complies so completely....Is she crazy? Then he is mean, extra mean...not a kind word edgewise...not a kind word in sight...and she feels like he must not like her at all...but then later she think...maybe he likes the fact that he can be mean...but he really does like her?

Then her...she am emotional...She am happy...she am sad...she am disappointed...she am feeling like she am in the briarpatch..she am slightly depressed about it all...but for her, there is a cure for depression. It is mischief of some sort or doing something totally radical and extreme, but harmless...such as this stupid profile and blog....or spending money...and since she don't got much of that right now...and she don't want to cry her tears onto some other guys shoulder right now...but she got to get over that briarpatch feeling.. she settle for this bit of mischief here....talking about this as if she and he were third people. (serious enallage used here...did he notice?)

What could possibly make her happy? Watching "I am Legend" with him on December 14, 2007...and she does know what she needs to have in her purse other than her bankcard and driver's license.

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