. . . Contradictory?

I’m sitting at work.

It’s break time, so one of my coworkers wanders over to chat.

Mid-conersation she pauses and then starts laughing. I ask her what’s so funny and she nods toward the items to the left of my computer.

“It’s just that they’re so contradictory,” she says with another small laugh.

I look and see her point and feel instantly conflicted. She’s right. A girly purple flowered tissue box and a crude gun wielding  plastic action figure do contradict each other.

But then I asked myself why I had chosen to put both items on my desk. Well, I like both of them. The pattern on the box makes me think of somewhere relaxing and the action figure is a character from one of my favorite shows.

So . . . they may seem to contradict each other, but really they’re part of the same catagory: stuff I like.

And if some of the stuff I like is girly and some of the stuff I like isn’t . . . Well that just means I have varried tastes!

If that makes me seem contradictory then so be it. Life is too short to try to fit myself into someone else’s box.

Okay. Rant/introspection over!



Rambling — AND — Days 10 – 11 of 30 Days of Kink

Hello again. How’re you today?

Though there are several topics that I still want to cover, none of them particularly relate to the two 30 Days of Kink questions that I’m posting the answers to. The questions are, “What are your hard limits?” and “What are your views on the ethics of kink?” I think those questions are a little loaded, considering the fact that I’m in my pajama’s while I eat chips and dip and watch shark week. But, again, there isn’t anything in particular that I feel like writing about.

Well . . . actually . . . it occurs to me that I do have something I can type about . . .

Today He picked me up from work and within a few minutes He told me that tomorrow we’d be spending the day with Freckles. Of course, Freckles isn’t her name, or even her nick-name, but she is a freckle-faced red head. Let me see if I can properly explain her relationship to Him and the group . . . She is the younger sister of Face (which is her nick-name). Face lived with Him for a while when she was in high-school and she dated Junior, before he dated HQ. Face knows Him through her mother’s family, because He was very good friends with her mother’s younger brother. He died, before He met me, but they’re all still close.

Onward . . . Freckle’s recently turned eighteen and she graduated high-school this year. She’s still looking for a job, still living with her parents, still doesn’t have a driver’s license. Normally, those things would deter Him from spending much time with her, but . . . she’s eighteen and still high-school cute. And recently broke up with her boyfriend. As such, He’s offered to pick her up tomorrow morning, so that she can get out a bit.

Unfortunately, this means that my one day a week with Him just became a day that I’m going to spend feeling awkward and second rate. I am not eighteen and high-school cute. I wasn’t even that when I really was eighteen and just out of high-school. I know that this isn’t something that He’s thought of, because I am still half his age and I’m not really bad looking at all . . . but I’m not usually what anyone would call perky.

So, I’m trying to determine what tomorrow will hold. I’d hoped to go out for breakfast with Him and then go tubing down the river. However, that’s not feasible with her spending the day with us. Neither is anything else involving going “out.” Movies, or the beach, or the mall . . . all of that isn’t really going to be an option. Probably, He and she will spend the day down at the apartment pool while I spend the day inside on my laptop or with a book. Because I’m still just not comfortable with being around “competition” . . . even though He was just telling me today that I’m not going anywhere.

That all being said . . . it’s time for dinner and another glass of wine.


Day 10: What are your hard limits?

I covered these in the one of the 30 Days of Submission posts, but I’ll list them again, since there aren’t many!

Dying is a hard limit – so no acts that are likely to result in my death.

Jail is a hard limit – so no acts that will result in a stay in jail. Or at least none that will result in a sentence longer than 30 days, because I’ve known people who’ve gone to jail over some pretty simple and petty things before.

My family is a hard limit – so no acts that will harm them or cause them undue stress.

That’s essentially it, as far as hard limits go. I’d prefer not to do a lot of things, but I consider them soft limits, because the doing of them would never be enough to make me feel forced to leave Him – as the above would. I’d rather not be peed on . . . and I haven’t been . . . but eventually it’s something that He’s probably going to do. And I know that His former slave actually swallowed said pee – the thought of which never fails to make me cringe.

Day 11: What are your views on the ethics of kink?

Well, when I read the question my mind instantly goes to the principles of SSC and RACK . . . even though those aren’t principles that I technically live by.

Safe, Sane, and Consensual is a matter of opinion, after all. I feel that I’m completely safe when I’m with Him. I find sanity through surrendering myself wholly to Him. And as far as consent is concerned . . . well I’ve given Him consent to treat me as He likes – whether I like it or not (which is what most people seem to have trouble with).

Risk-Aware Consensual Kink inherently has more merits. I think it is important to be aware of the potential risks that you’re taking when you do something that is . . . well . . . risky. The issue of consent remains, of course, because I’ve found that most people view consent as something that is temporary or limited, even within the context of a Master/slave dynamic. And I do feel that consent is a requirement, too . . . though only the initial consent to relinquish the ability/right to dissent.

That being said, the “ethics of kink” aren’t that different than the ethics of life. Moral principles are still in place.

My hard limits are things that I feel cross my sense of morality and ethics too strongly to ignore, whereas my soft limits don’t do so. And I don’t believe that a one-size answer fits all. People and situations are unique and flexible, so too are the circumstances surrounding kinky practices. And that’s only to be expected, really.

Throwback Thursday — AKA — Once Upon A Time Ago

So, firstly, an apology for not posting more frequently, recently.

I’ve thought of posting a dozen times and I have a dozen topics that I want to post about.

But, because the people of the internet have declared today “Throwback Thursday,” I’m going to settle on a topic that’s tied to that. Sort of. See, I recently saw that one of the individuals I follow posted a list of things that make her happy. And just an hour later someone on my Facebook page posted a list of things that they miss from their childhood. So, to honor my younger self on this particular Throwback Thursday, I’ve decided to list ten things that made me unbelievably happy as a child.

These things are in no particular order.

1. My Grandma’s Pancakes – Her pancakes were magical. I’ve never had any others that compare. Not once.

2. My Papo’s Backyard – His backyard was huge. It included a large in-ground pool, perfectly green grass, and a koi pond/garden that was it’s one wonderful little world. I also never heard anyone yell while they were in it.

3. Car Rides – As a kid I used to beg to ride in the car. Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as I was in the front seat it didn’t matter what the destination was. We could’ve been going to the jiffy store two minutes down the road or one an eight hour road trip to visit family in another state – I was thrilled either way. Windows down and music up, preferably.

4. Bike Rides – If I like anything travel-based more than car rides, it was bike rides. By the time I was eleven, I was waking up at five in the morning to go ride my bike around the neighborhood while it was still cool and quiet. I loved that time.

5. The Downtown Library – It was my favorite place when I was little. Not only did it house my very favorite things (books), it was a distinctly adult environment. Unlike the other libraries I was exposed to as a child (the children’s library at school and the church center’s library), it was dim inside and the books were on tall dark wood shelves that you needed stools to reach the tops of. Which made the books seem even more exciting and mysterious. They required effort. My seven year old self was thrilled with that.

6. Playing Video Games – While I loved reading more than any other indoor activity, I also enjoyed playing video games when I was little. I think I was only three or four the first time I “played” a video game – my dad’s copy of Dragon Age. By the time I was nine, I was in love with the Final Fantasy series of video games and I continued to play those throughout my teen years – in fact I literally jumped for joy when they finally announced the remake of FF7.

7. Writing in Cursive – I still remember how excited I was when I learned how to write in cursive. I know that most kids don’t get worked up over it, now, and that schools don’t even regularly teach it, but when I was little I viewed writing in cursive as a sign of being mature – even though I was only about nine. I actually stopped using it when I was in high school, but started again a few months ago on a whim and was thrilled that I still remembered it.

8. Disney Movies on VHS – I had dozens of them. Even now I don’t think of Disney movies as things that are on DVD or on TV. They are the things in the big plastic cases that need to be rewound to be watched more than once. And if I had a Disney movie then I also had all the little plastic figures of the characters so that I could act out the scenes.

9. Buying Diaries – I liked to write when I was little (or else I loved to). But that does not explain why I felt the need to collect diaries. I liked the thought of writing about myself. My thoughts and my opinion, but also my history (brief as it was, then). I liked writing, “My name is Samantha. I’m nine years old. I was born in 1991. My mother’s name is . . . My father’s name is . . . My sister’s name is . . . We live . . .” All of the ancillary details about who I was always gotten written in the first pages of the diaries, but I usually didn’t write anything more than that. The exception wasn’t until I was fifteen – when I filled a black journal with everything single thought I had and all the small moments of that year. . . . Interestingly enough, it actually proves that I met Him when I was fifteen, for the first time. I saw Him one night while Junior and HQ were dating. Junior and He were hanging out with her and I had tagged along with her. I even wrote His name down, though I didn’t write down the names of anyone else from that night. It wasn’t until last year that I found that journal and realized that. He doesn’t remember it, and neither do I, so we both tease each other about it.

10. Last, but not least . . . The Internet – Yes, yes, I know. But if I’m making a list of things that made me unbelievably happy when I was little then the internet deserves a spot. When I was little one of my favorite things was going online to the Animal Planet website or to look up ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs or to read poems by random authors. It was a window to everything that I had ever wanted to see and a book that contained all the answers I’d ever wanted to know. And, as you might imagine, it’s still one of my favorite things!

Well, even thought this post didn’t really have anything to do with anything alternative (aside from a brief mention of Him), I am glad that I was able to find time to post. Work is slowing down, finally, so hopefully another post won’t be long!

Quiet Moments and Quiet Thoughts

It’s Sunday morning. I’m actually awake at what my mother calls a respectable hour. And I’m not hungover, from last night’s drinking. I actually feel pretty . . . good. Laying in bed, next to Him. Typing away and listening to some soft music while He snores beside me – stretched out His side, arms crossed, a little smile on His face as He sleeps. I’ve got instructions to wake Him at 10:30, because he goes in today at noon, but for now I get to enjoy this quiet moment.

Laundry in the washer. Was struck with the realization that I’d have time to wash all of his things, before He has to wake up. Made the walk down the hill to the laundry room in the middle of our apartment complex. No one out and about, but there was a lone pink float drifting around in the pool that wasn’t there when we pulled in last night. Got the laundry started and headed back up the hill. Lost in thought, but I must have felt someone watching me, because I looked up (I normally walk with my eyes downcast, out of habit). A man in a white polo and khaki shorts was strolling across the parking lot at a parallel to me. He spoke, just as I looked up.

“Try a smile,” he said, kindly. “Whatever it is will get better.”

I did smile at him, then. I hadn’t been aware that I’d looked particularly unhappy. I said, “It’s still a bit early, is all.”

And we both moved on. He was picking up scraps of trash from the grass that stretches between the apartment buildings and the parking lot. Back inside, into the bedroom. I opened the blinds just as he turned the corner, but he didn’t seem to notice that I stood there watching as he picked up a Styrofoam cup and walked back down a ways to the community dumpster to throw away the trash he’d collected.

Normally I’m not up and out quite this early on a Sunday. I’m not a religious person, but I’ve always considered Sunday just a day for quiet activities and resting before the work week starts up again. I find myself wondering what this man was doing walking around the parking lot at 9:00am on a Sunday morning, dressed nicely and picking up other people’s trash. Is this something that he does every Sunday morning? Or was he just killing time while he waited for a loved one to come down so that they could go to church? Or a family breakfast out? I have no real idea. . .

Last night ended well. He and I had gone with Junior to the 30th birthday party of the wife of another of our friends. It was a surprise party and his payback for the one she threw on his 30th birthday. After dinner had slowed down and we were all sitting around finishing our last beers, it was decided that the core of the group – He and I, Junior, the birthday girl and her husband, and Junior’s boss and his . . . slavegirl? fiance? significant other? – would go to the Boss’s house for the after party.

While it ended up not being much of a party. Just the seven of us sitting around drinking in the security of the Boss’s screen-room. But those are the sort of gatherings that I like best, usually. I never really socialized very much, before I met Him. And these people are more his friends than mine, truthfully, but they all make extra sure to include me in their conversations – especially Junior, the Boss, and his Slavegirl. I do count Junior as a friend, given our history, but he was His friend long before he was mine. And he’s an established part of that core group, whereas (even after three and half years) am still quietly on the periphery.

He and I left first, actually, because He does have to work today and wanted to make sure He got some sleep. I’m not used to Him drinking, but He had two rum and cokes, a beer, and a strawberry daiquiri. He fell asleep right away, last night, but I stayed up a few minutes longer, watching television and thinking about my plans for today.

I want to finish organizing the apartment, while He’s at work. There’s really not much to do, because i did a large portion yesterday. But there are more dishes in the sink than I am comfortable with and the trash needs to be taken out. Aside from that, I want to start scanning paperwork with the new printer/scanner/copier that He bought for us last week.

He wants to get all of our paperwork saved in a digital form, because He’s sick of fussing with the physical copies of a dozen different receipts for all of the work he does on our vehicle – not to mention that He wants the security of having all of our bill receipts saved in the same way. He’s gone to jail twice in the past fifteen years – once for a little over a year and once for just under nine months. Both times He’s started His life over from scratch, from a paperwork perspective, and so He likes the idea of having digital copies that can simply be saved to a USB. Not that He intends to go back to jail, but it’s something that weighs on his mind heavily sometimes, because He doesn’t want to leave me with a pile of papers to sort, in case something does happen.

As for me . . . the calendar over my desk still thinks that it’s January. In theory, I love the thought of being super organized. In practice, however . . . well I tend to be more inclined to binge watch Law and Order: SVU than to be productive.

Friday Night – and Day.

Today has been a bit of a ride – and not necessarily the good kind.

This morning I woke up early, blogged, skipped breakfast. Ran out the door with minutes to spare.

Then, on the car ride to work, He and I somehow ended up bickering. I don’t even remember what we were talking about, really. But the conversation made me unhappy. Borderline depressed, actually. He hadn’t intended to upset, but we’d somehow started talking about his former slave – the aforementioned Mercy. He was talking about how dedicated and well trained she was (I now recall that we’d been talking about limits, because there’s a new girl at work that I’d like to hang out with outside of work, but I’m not comfortable approaching her yet). I started feeling . . . inferior. Which often happens when he talks about her, because I know that I’m not nearly as comfortable with some of the aspects of our dynamic as she was.

He tried to cheer me up, before I had to get out of the car to go into work. He threatened to meep my nose (don’t ask), to pull the hood of my jacket up – even to choke me right there in the car. Which I vetoed, because my office shares space with a lawyer’s firm that has the place covered in cameras. I went into work feeling like I was going to start crying at any moment. It was so bad that I broke office rules to text him during the first half of the day.

The first text was an apology, for my poor mood. He sent back a four text long mini-rant about how I”m too hard on myself. My favorite highlights include where he wrote that I’m what He wants, that I’m His for life, and that I need to work on focusing on the positives rather than the negatives. I explained that I knew those things, but that I’m still worried he will one day “fire” me due to “poor job performance.” He said that He understands my fears, but assured me they’re groundless.

And so the day went on and 5:15 came around and He picked me up from work. We stopped by the local pet store to pick up food for my snakes, then at the office supply store for a cable for our new printer. Then we came home and He surprised me by pulling out two new snorkeling kits – masks, snorkels, and fins. He’s in the process of fixing his boat and wants to teach me to snorkel . . . something I’ve never done, because of how awkward it is with my glasses. Now that I’ve got contacts, He wants this to be something that I know how to do.

And so it was into the pool for an hour of splashing around. He got to laugh at how I have trouble driving to touch the bottom of the pool, because I naturally. And I had fun giggling at Him demonstrating the proper way to breath through a snorkel. And after it all He made us chicken and rice for dinner. Now He’s dozing on the couch and I’m watching television.

Today was long. It didn’t end up going how I’d expected it to, but it was still good, mostly. And tomorrow is another day.

I’m looking forward to this weekend. Even I only intend to spend it sleeping and cleaning.

Friday Morning — (AND) — Day 7 – 9 of 30 Days of Kink

I’m so . . . relieved . . . that it’s Friday.

This week has gone by quickly, but it’s been so busy!

Last night I was begging Him to let me crawl into bed at nine – more than hour earlier than we usually go to bed. Ordinarily, i love sitting up with Him while he watches TV and relaxes after dinner, but last night my fatigue caught up to me. He talked me into staying up for another hour, so that we could go to bed together. Once I was under the blanket, I think I was asleep within five minutes (which is unusual for me, because I normally lay awake for a while). I think I only woke up once during the night and I fell right back asleep when He sleep-mumbled at me to.

I woke up half an hour early this morning, because I’m eager for this day to pass quickly, too – at least a large portion of it. Work is going well, but I’m trying to cram a lot into my days, and I’m still not used to it. One of my coworkers pointed out to me yesterday that they – our managers – can’t keep piling stuff on my plate and expect me to finish it all on time . . . at least not without it seriously wearing me out. I’d confided to her that I’m getting dizzy spells and haven’t had an appetite. However, the very next words out of her mouth were, “Of course, i know you’re not assertive and you like helping . . .”

I bit my lip to stifle a laugh! I agreed that I’m not very assertive, but also that I should learn how to say no to work related requests. Though I do love knowing that our managers trust me with a lot of the tasks that they formerly had to do.

And, now that I’ve idled my early start away, I’m going to just post the next couple of days of the 30 Days of Kink questions. These were all sort of related (favorites), so I went ahead and answered all three of them!


Day 7: What’s your favorite toy?

I’m not sure on the definition of “toy,” in this question, so I’ll give two answers!

My favorite sex-toy is definitely just my trusty vibrator. I’ve had a few different ones (because I seem to wear them out rather quickly – as He loves to tease me about). So far my favorite one has been one that’s similar to a Hitachi wand, though it wasn’t quite so expensive. It had lots of power and could run at a high speed for a while without draining the batteries. Unfortunately it broke as well and I’m back to an even less expensive one that I got in the novelty shop at the local mall.

My favorite implement to play with is His belt. It leaves the best bruises and He’s able to vary the impact with minimal effort on His part. I love it, because it’s something directly tied to Him. It hangs on the closet door-knob, next to the paddle and blindfold.

Day 8: What’s a kinky image that you find erotic?

Love the thought of being bound like this.
Love the thought of being bound like this.

Day 9: What kink related songs or music videos do you enjoy?

There are several songs with some kink-type undertones that have been among my favorites for years. Disturbed’s Meaning of Life (there’s such a feeling of contained aggression in it that I tend to get goosebumps) and Korn’s Coming Undone (the melody and pacing of it always seem to make me antsy) both come to mind. When I’m feeling more lighthearted, I like Pink’s Walk of Shame and Slut Like You.

One song that He introduced me to was Combichrist’s This Shit Will Fuck You Up. That one’s very overtly kinky.

I don’t know that there are any music videos that I like that are particularly kinky, though I do like music videos in general. I guess the only ones that come to mind are a couple of Manson and Rob Zombie ones, but that’s it.

Productivity — (AND) — Days 4 – 6 of 30 Days of Kink

As if to make up for yesterday being so flat, today has been rather good.

I tend to feel that Tuesday is the best day of the week – I’ve actually joked about naming a daughter Tuesday.

Today, I managed to wake up at decent hour . . . though it was right in the middle of a really good dream. I don’t usually have wet dreams, at least ones that I remember, but this one . . . oh this one. I have to admit that I woke up so “on” that I instantly woke Him up, asking if I could cum. He said yes and I spent my first fifteen minutes of the day doing just that . . . twice. Which left me feeling unusually hungry.

I made a quick breakfast for the two of us, and coffee. His with two creamers, mine with milk and sugar.

My work day breaks down into thirds. The first third is the longest and I spent all of it being shadowed by a semi-new girl, because she was loosing her voice and couldn’t make calls on her own.  I managed to eat lunch (which earned me a “good pet” text, because it’s something I’ve recently had trouble doing). The second third of the day I spent training our newest newbie. And then the final third I spent alone, reading over interviews and doing QA tasks. For the first time since my raise, I was able to accomplish everything on my to-do list!

Though He went to work today, I know that He’s still feeling under the weather. He sent me a text, an hour ago, asking if I would make Him a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup for dinner – two of His go-to comfort foods. Since that’s an easy make, I’m sitting here – blogging and watching Repo! The Genetic Opera with Junior (who’s only seen it once). If you’re looking for a new movie to watch – and enjoy moderately macabre musicals (think Sweeney Todd) – then I suggest you go get this movie, if you haven’t already. It’s genius.

Since today has been so productive, from a work point of view, I also decided to go ahead and tackle another three of the 30 Days of Kink questions. Again, I’m finding these questions much easier to answer than the ones from the 30 DoS set.


Day 4: Any early experiences that hinted at your kinky side?

I always (ALWAYS) wanted to play the victim. Cops and Robbers? I’d get held up. Cowboys and Indians? I got myself tied to the tree. Ghost hunters (one of my cousin’s favorites)? I’d be the one being haunted.

Also, I tended to always be the teacher’s pet – because of my eagerness to get approval from authority figures.

Day 5: What was your first kinky sexual experience?

This is a little tricky. I didn’t have any kinky sexual experiences that involved a partner until I met Him, when I was twenty. But I started masturbating at a youngish age and most of the time that included some form of self-inflicted bondage or pain. So I suppose that the answer depends on whether or not the question means with a partner, or just period.

Day 6: What is your weirdest and most interesting sexual fantasy?

Well, I’ve had countless sexual fantasies, but the weirdest and most interesting of them . . . ?

Probably, that would have to be ones that are tied to the characters of a novel that I never got around to writing. The novel itself was really gritty and dark and twisted – definitely X-rated. And the fantasies follow along those lines.

The main character of the novel was set to be a girl (always my own age, incidentally) who was actually one of a new sub-species of human ( a “mutant” – for lack of a better word) that were capable of rapidly healing (among other things). She catches the attention of a sadist (also one of the “mutants”). It pretty much goes from there. The fantasies are recurrent and actually extremely elaborate (lots of “characters” and time-lines and such) and as close as I imagine I’ll get to some of my very deepest pain-slut/slave mentalities. Which is good, since I don’t rapidly heal!

Another Monday — (AND) — Days 1 – 3 of 30 Days of Kink

Oh Monday . . . how I loath thee.

Not enough coffee . . . too much work . . .

A new trainee at work . . . and Him home sick . . .

I couldn’t wait to get home today. Spent the last hour of work trying to rush through things. Finally finished all of my QA stuff – well, almost all of it, anyway. Got a ride home and promptly sat on the couch and started watching TV with Him. He made a light dinner (an oriental stir-fry). I spent almost the entire evening typing.

Not really journaling, but free-writing some. And, also, answering some of the 30 Days of Kink questions that I stumbled across while I was doing the questions for 30 Days of Submission. And I have to admit that these questions are more light-hearted than the 30 Days of Submission ones . . . or at least not so in depth.

As such, I went ahead and answered the first three. The answers are shorter than the ones I did for 30 DoS, but – as always – if anyone wants more information, I hope that they feel free to ask. That said, here goes . . .


1. Define your kinky self!

In BDSM terminology, I’m a slave/pet who’s currently involved in a 24/7 Total Power Exchange with her Owner. I’m His property . . . very happily so . . . at least most of the time. And when it’s not so happily, He beats me into submission and then makes me breakfast-for-dinner (because He knows it’s my favorite).

2. List your Kinks!

First and foremost, being controlled by a dominant guy. Nothing turns me on as quickly or as strongly.

Secondly, pain. Mm. Yes please can I have some more? Bruises are one of my favorite things. But! I like impact pain more than I like stinging pain. Paddles are a yes. Knives are mostly a no.

Thirdly, bondage. I like to be restrained. Rope, and duct tape, and straps, oh my!

There are others, but those are the main three that are usually sure to turn me into a happy mess.

3. How did you discover you were kinky?

I became aware of “kink” at a fairly young age, through my older cousin. She was very into the occult and was going through her teen rebellious stage – both of which included forays into all things kink. I was home-schooled and she was my only peer (the three year age gap wasn’t so bad, really – my 12 to her 15), so I was exposed to all that as she was looking into it.

I think the first time I realized I was kinky was when my school counselor gave me Anne Rice’s book The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, because she felt I’d enjoy it. I was thirteen, at that time (she was not a traditional type of counselor). I read the book and got so embarrassed that I knew I must have seen aspects of myself in it. But from there, nothing much happened until I hit twenty, when I met Him.

It was at that point that my discovery that I was kinky translated into something that was actually tangible.

Duality and Balance and “What do you want for dinner?”

Duality – The quality, or state, of having two parts. Example: The duality of human nature can be confusing.

Balance – The equality of different qualities, wherein there is an even distribution. Example: Life is a balancing act.

“What do you want for dinner?” – A question posed by my Owner, at 8:30PM. Example: Rice or mac n’ cheese for a side?

(The answer to that last question was easy. I’ve been able to eat an entire box of mac n’ cheese on my own since I was seven. He still tries to encourage some variety though. Which is admirable, but futile when one of my options is mac n’ cheese. Though He did talk me into a side bowl filled with cauliflower and broccoli – two of my least favorite veggies.)

Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about duality (and not just because I think it’s one of Slipknot’s most badass songs). I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of duality. Being one thing, but also another thing. And the word duality seems to encompass a certain amount of contrast, doesn’t it? So . . . being one thing, but also a different thing. Simultaneously.

Hence, balance. The ability to bring disparate things to an equilibrium. Or: A position in which one can remain without fear of staggering or falling. Bringing together multiple opposing forces or incongruous parts in such a way that they are able to form a complete, cohesive image.

Whereas duality is something that just is . . . a trait, if you will . . . balance is something that needs to be found or created. Sometimes it has to be maintained, even. Though duality alone tends to frighten me in somewhat complicated and primal ways, the addition of the concept of balance acts as a clarifying agent. It lets me embrace the duality, rather than reject it.

This is all sort of meandering, isn’t it?

I’ve been feeling more stressed out at work, because I want to prove that I deserved the raise I got. But I’ve also been feeling more relaxed with Him, at home, because we’re both working hours that let us have our morning, nights, and weekends together. I’ve been sleeping (very) poorly, but I’ve been eating more healthily. I’ve been feeling more depressed, but I’ve been more productive. All I want to do is curl up and sleep for a day, but I’ve rarely been so busy.

All of these opposite forces tugging, tugging, tugging.

So what is there to bring them all into alignment?

Him, of course. He’s my answer. My center.

Because even when everything is feeling like it’s going to fall down or blow up, He’s still standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, holding a bag of rice in one hand and a box of mac n’ cheese in the other, asking me, “What do you want for dinner?” Because He knows that I’m teetering. But He’s not worried about it, because He knows that He’ll catch me if I do happen to fall. And because He trusts that, so do I. And so I’m able to sit and watch How It’s Made with Him, while He has ice-cream for desert and I have one of the chocolate rum balls that He made for me yesterday.

Duality. Being made up of two contrasting parts. Balance. Not being afraid of falling when the parts come together.

Being His . . . . knowing that I won’t be hurt, even if I do fall.

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