Copied over from fetlife, thus excuse the references.
Out of order even more than posting Sequence three first, is posting the first second.
Seems there isn't going to be any semblence of order to this at all, assuming I share sequence number two at all.
I am choosing to share this dream because it is more than a dream, it was a night terror, something that still haunted my vision and mind after my eyes opened, after I came out of the hell in my mind to the real world. I don't suffer night terrors often, so when I do, they do tend to send me for a bit of a whirl even now.
I am also sharing this, because it occurs to me that my third dream had nothing at all to do with BDSM on a BDSM social site. Even given that they are private journal entries, everything I have written on this profile has, one way or another, pertained to the BDSM world in some regard, be it through personal thoughts, ideals, hopes, or even venting my brain before implosion.
This one has BDSM laced through it. Which is to say if BDSM were darkness, pain, and torture. So you know, maybe to you extreme masochists out there, this is right up your alley, or the rape fantasists, or the sadists with aspirations to something more than they can do in a scene without hearing a whimpering beg of "red" from the bottom.
Part of me wants to label this as erotica, as opposed to a journal entry, except... I don't find this sexy, I don't find it attractive, or a turn on, or a fantasy. I find it a whisper of what is hidden deep inside of me, the darkness spoken of previously in who am I...
Final author's note before I get into this, yes, I'm hesitating, and yes I'm delaying the inevitable spewing of the mental juices... This instance did not flow like sequence three, or even sequence two, or four... It was broken, shattered, like seen through a strobe light, or a bad night of binge drinking where you remember bits and pieces of the evening, but you can't quite piece together the whole thing. This is going to read like that, it is going to move, flow, pick up, and drop off, just as I remember it... And the reason I remember it, is because it was there when my eyes opened.... With that... Dream Sequence One.........
...Oh! And before I forget...
##TRIGGER WARNING
-----------------------------------------------
I place a gentle kiss to her forehead and run my fingers through scarlet strands of hair, a light smile passing my lips, sardonic and amused, "Your darkness doesn't scare me you know." She says through her lashes as she looks up to me, a teasing smile upon her lips.
"It should," I reply simply, the words leaving my lips with a hush of breath, almost a sigh, a whisper as the last teases out as though they never meant to pass my tongue, "it sure as hell scares me."
She laughs gently and spins away, looking over her shoulder, "Why shoulder it scare me? Darkness is fun!"......
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He approaches me in the club, the music blares, the munch surrounds me, friends, strangers, acquaintances, and even those I dislike come in and out of focus. I'm slowly drinking my whiskey and coke... It's strong. I like that, the caramelization of the liquid washes over my tongue like honey, and I glance at him, tilting my fedora up slightly to get a better glance.
He's well dressed. Far too well dressed for this kind of social event. The suit has to be tailor made, I recognize this, though I don't know how. He's attractive, almost distractingly so. Women watch him, men watch him. He's the man that other men want to be, and women want to be with. His hair is black and slicked back, but a single lock falls down in the middle of his forehead, his eyes are blue, the kind of blue that one might find in the heart of a glacier, and just as warm.
"You are... Malebranche?" He asks me, even his tone fucking reeks of perfection, a smooth baritone. I have this unresistable urge to hurt him, no one should be -that- perfect. What kind of 50 shades cocksucker just walked in here? And what the FUCK does he want with me?
"And you are... Who exactly?" My eyes flicker over him briefly, then they look behind him. There she is, red hair framing pale features, lithe body posed on the bar. She's not watching him, though, she's watching me. I didn't know who he was, but I somehow knew she was the cause of this meeting.
"I'm....." The audio cuts out. His name isn't important. Why should it be? He's not the focus here, even I know that, even as I recognize him, he's not near as perfect as he was moments before. When did his eyes turn green? Where did the trench coat come from? Wasn't he wearing... No... She's here now.
"You said your darkness is scary. Well, *garble* here says he wants to see it. So do I." She smiles winningly from his side, touching my knee gently. Of course she does. Of course he does. Why am I here? Walk away, just turn and walk away......
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A house. We're pulling up. It's not a house, no, that is an understatement. This is a manor, large. Dear god this place must cost a fortune. When did I agree to this? I feel it though, an eagerness. It's inside of me. Gods why is it inside of me? Tiled roof, very nice. Much better than shingles. Why do I notice this? The door is double, large gargoyle knockers upon it, he doesn't knock. Why should he?
His key goes into the lock, and opens the right hand side. He steps in and I follow, and she comes behind. This cannot possibly end well. I just met her, and now, now I'm going to hurt her. Not just hurt her until she says red, no... The darkness, it is stirring there, deep down inside of me. She mocked it, taunted it, and it was now deciding... Lunch.
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The room is dark, lit by torches held in wall sconces. Such a new age house, why torches? No, not torches, they're lights, luminescent, they just vaguely resemble lights. He's here, so is she, and so is... I don't recognize this woman. Brown hair falls down in waves over her shoulders, hazel eyes look at him adoringly, her hourglass figure would be enviable to most women, and desirable to most men, her face is plain, though, her lips flat it seems, her breasts I judge instinctively, 38DD, they fit the roundness of her hips... 36 inches maybe? My eyes are drawn to him, to *her*, and then to this mystery woman.
He looks to her, "you wanted to be with me. You said anything I wanted to do to you, I could. Do you still stand by that?" He looks at her, even I can see the boredom in his eyes, the condescending tilt to his mouth as he smirks, there's no mistaking that for a smile. Never for a smile.
She does. She mistakes it, she must mistake it for encouragement, because she looks to the her, and then to me, with confidence, her chin raises, her shoulders square. She's being bold, "yes, I meant it, *garble*, even if you want your perverse orgy, I meant it."
His lips part, now he's smiling. It's sinister, it reminds me of an image of the cheshire cat, not the one from the original Alice in Wonderland, no, the one from American McGee's Alice. The Emaciated creature with notched ears and a grin that sends chills through little children, and even some adults.
"Good," he says, "Because I've decided what I want to do to you." He looks to me, and his smile recedes, but only slight, "What do you need?"
I hand him a list. I don't know where the list came from, but there it is, and he is reading it. He nods and...
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She is watching, her eyes are darting back and forth now, she seems much more unsure of herself. This empty room with the wall sconce lights has changed. It's not so empty anymore, the lights flicker over walls no longer bare, wooden floors no longer empty save for four sets of feet.
The walls are covered. Wooden boards with spokes sticking out, dozens upon dozens, housing floggers, paddles, crops, flails, canes, a scourge, rope... My mind imagines it, and I see it out of the corner of my eye. The room is full, beyond full. It is teeming with tools.
A table off to the side, where did that counter space come from? The table is small, and flush to the counter, upon it is a rolled leather scrip. I recognize it. I owned one once in the past. So long ago. I know what it contains. How long since I've seen one? Seven years? No, eight. When I lost it, and all my other tools and toys to Dawn in the states.
I hand him a piece of paper. He hands it to the girl who seems much more nervous, his voice is assured as I step across the room to the table, "Sign this, now, or we are done here and you will never be with me." She takes it, I don't even know if she reads it, I know she signs it, my eyes are for this table, only this table, and this rolled up leather skin.
So much detail, the darkness growls. It knows what this is, too. It missed it, it missed what it could do, even if it rarely ever was used. I untie the cord which holds it closed, and I roll it open in one single motion. The gentle "chink chink shhhh" of metal against metal and against leather whispers through the room as though to say, "hello my old friend."
Hello, indeed. Knives. Needles -not the kind for needle play, much nearer to sewing needles, long, thick, thin, short, and all sharp-. A shudder passes through me, and a shadow sifts from my body, whispers sweet nothings in my ear, twists around me like a serpent, rolls over the table, and seems to inhale the scent of the oiled and tended metal, before shifting once more into my body.
The darkness is there, and a light enters my eyes. I know that light, the slow, cruel smirk that passes my lips, I know this too. It's what occurs before the bad happens. Oh bobbi where are you now? Where are you when this is coming out of hiding. I don't want this poor woman to suffer this. But I do. Oh how I do. I inhale, the scent of leather and sweat fills the room, I can almost smell her screams already.
I choose the broadest blade from its sheath. I draw it out, and test the blade against my arm, barely has it touched than I see the crimson burst forth, flowing up around the silver sheen of the blade and falling to drip to the floor. I wipe it clean, and... BANG! Slam the blade into the corner edge of the counter top. The blade chips, parts around the granite. BANG! again, higher up, andother chip, another dent. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG more and more, I see the etching in the blade coming to life, the ragged cuts, the near serated edge. Not serated, no, this was worse. It was ragged and no longer looked new, no, it looked like a piece of scrap metal you might find in the back of an old garage. Don't touch it unless your tetnis is up to date.
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I hold a knife in my hand, she's backed into the corner now. He and *her* are to the other side of the room, watching, seeming almost curious. I look to the girl, and to the knife in my hand. My hand moves back, then snaps forward as the blade leaves my fingers and aims downwards, with a solid, "K'THUNK!" it hits the floor, perhaps a foot in front of her. Five feet separates us.
"Allow me to spell this out for you, I am what death looks like. I am what pain feels like. I am how agony thinks. I am the alpha and omega of your demise. You have one avenue of escape. Pick up that knife. Get through me, to the door. One chance, only one. You pick it up and escape, or you fail. If you pick it up and fail. This will hurt far more than you will ever know. He wants me to break you, and you will feel it in a thousand ways." Delivered calmly, in a gentle tone. I know how I look, heavier, small hands, glasses, fedora, dress shirt rolled up over the elbow, blood from one cut already. I don't look like much.
She thinks the same, apparently, because the knife is in her hand, and she lunges for me. I step blithely to the right, out of her range, my left hand slaps the blade further out, but I feel it make contact, feel in the tug of the fabric more than pain, the parting of the flesh seems to happen to another, my left arm is sliced shallowly, but my right hand already moves, and the strike to her sternum brings her low before the knee to her jaw sets her back against the wall dazed. The knife clatters away.
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She's bound. To a cross. I recognize it. I used to own it. It rises at a 50 degree angle from the floor, for the bottom half of the large X, then it tilts harder to 30 degrees at the center, forcing the person bound to lean back uncomfortably, or bend forward provocatively. She is bending forward.
I have a blade in my hand, it's a stiletto. The blade narrow, I can barely even see the tip so fine is the point. I flip it over casually in my right hand, I touch it to her back, she cringles, I see a pearl of blood seeping through her cream blouse.
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She's naked. Tears stream down her face. Aside from the single pearl, there is no wound on her, no mark. She's simply humiliated. Offended. Hazel eyes look to me accusingly. I ignore her. My hands go for the buttons of my shirt.
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I look to *her* and beckon her over. "Bandage this, I can't work if I'm bleeding." She looks to the naked girl, there's a shine... Is that lust in her eyes? Silly child. She turns her attention back to me, she wraps the wound on my upper arm, and the one on my forearm, both shallow, neither a danger. I look to her, my fingers move up to cup her chin, "Watch, little girl. This is what you aren't afraid of." I push her away, she stumbles back to him, I turn to the woman.
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Screams. Oh sweet screams. I know they hurt her. How they hurt her. It's something to savour that sound. Yet this, this is the beginning. I hold a flogger in one hand, the other holds a cat of nine tails. I alternate, using my right hand for every strike. Across her back, which is turning red from the abuse, across her ass, her thighs. I purposefully strike the cat across her shoulder, wrapping the strike around her entire body to strike her breasts which hang freely in the position she is bound. She screams.
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The crying, the begging, "Please..... Oh god please...." I hear her. There's no words in my throat. Words... What are those? Do I remember them? The shadow is no longer within me. It is around me, suffusing me. I feel it. It isn't around me, it IS me. Gods... No, not gods, there are no gods in this world, only demons, devils, and the scourges of hell... Hells scourges it feels good. I have a cane in one hand, a knife in the other. Her thighs are bloodied, her breasts drip crimson tears onto the floor which mixes with the salt of her real tears. Snot and mucus has turned a plain face into something horrendous... Something erotic to the darkness though. Her eyes are squeezed shut. SNAP! The cane hits across her back. Not even remotely safe, safe... What is safe? She is a beast of burden, a creature, a project... If she lives, it is safe.
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Has the screaming stopped at all? Has she spoken anything other than "please" in a long agonizing voice since yesterday? Has it been a day? Two? I don't remember. He stands in the corner, his arms crossed, his lips are thin, pressed together. He's losing his stomach for this. *She* is crying, quietly, I see her shoulders shaking gently, but she can't peel her eyes away. I know how this looks, my bare chest is covered in sweat, causing the hair to stick together, appear thicker, my back is a sheen of if. My eyes are intense, there's that light within their emerald depths. I'm not done. I'm not even seeing her. There is only the project, the target, the victim. The victim. What else could she be? I'm not done. I haven't even touched the knives yet, the scourge, or the flails. So much left. So very very much left.
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Silence.
No, silence isn't right. How dare she, how DARE she! Smelling salts, they waft under her nose, my own nostrils flare. I'm not impressed with this break in my routine. No breaks are allowed. I'm not done.
She gasps for air, "Wh... W... OW Oh god it hurts, ow!" Gibberish. Whatever she is speaking, isn't a language I know. CRA-KOW! the scourge falls across her back, laying it open, I taste the copper sweetness of blood as the backsplash hits my cheek, my lips... She screams... like honey that scream.... There is a language I speak. I know what she is saying now. She is asking for more. I can oblige that request. More.
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The knife is in my hands. I remember this knife. I ruined it. Why would I ruin such a beautiful specimen of steel? The pits and catches of metal remind me why I did it, it was duller now. It was jagged now, and not at all in a manner which resembled seration, except perhaps in the most perverse of ways.
Her back is a mess, her breasts are a mess, her ass, her thighs... They are red, welted, bloodied, torn, wrecked. What the hell have I done so far? There's a pile to the side. Floggers, broken paddles, shattered canes, the scourge with bits of flesh and muscle still attached to the hooked barbs... I've used half of the inventory, and moved on to more.
She can barely scream, her throat is raw, I hear her trying though, like sweet whispers asking why I have slowed down. But I haven't. I have paused to find the best place for this. Ah, but of course. Her cunt has been protected by the cross. It hasn't been touched much at all, nor has her stomach. I have plenty of room to work... Plenty of room to work.......
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She whimpers. There is no other sound from her but those whimpers. She can't scream. My darkness tells me she doesn't know what pain is anymore. Her whimpers seem to tease my darkness with a kindred spirit. Not only has she transcended pain, she has found the true language to agony. Her thoughts are one with mine. I know this, because she has inhaled sharply even before the bucket filled with salt water and vinegar has been dumped across her body and back, dousing the wounds, those open and those closed. I can almost hear the nerves crackling at the assault to their sanctity.
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I lean forward, and whisper in her ear, a single word, "beast." words... I seem to be able to speak again. I know where the come from, the darkness is gluttonous. It has feasted like only once before. It has been sated. bobbi lies in a daze, a new world... bobbi? No, this isn't bobbi, who is this? This woman. She is beast. She is *garble*'s beast. I tamed her.
I see her head nod, gently. She understands. She doesn't speak. Can she speak? No, she mewls. She presses forward into the touch I offer her. She nuzzles the hand. I hear sobbing in the corner. She's there, she's not watching anymore. She's on her knees, her eyes are closed. What did she ask of me? I see it in her stance, I see it as her head raises when she opens her eyes to look towards the sound of my whispered voice.
The room stinks. It's wretched. Sweat, blood, gore, bodily fluids, feces, vinegar... The room smells like death. No other option seems open to it. It smells like death.
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My eyes open, I hear the fan to the side. I hear the whimpering, the mewling, the room smells like death. I taste blood on my tongue, on my lips. The sconces in the wall offer a flickering light that does nothing to ease my trembling.
I feel something against me, a girl? No, a blanket. I'm awake. I know this. I'm awake. It's over. Gods the room smells like death. I can taste her life. I can feel the ache up my arm from all of it.
No, I don't taste her. I taste myself. My lip is bleeding, I bit it when I awoke. The smell, it is fading, the smell of my blanket, cleaned two nights ago, is a comfort. Apples and pomegranates, in that twisted clean detergent smell.
I look down at my hands, they are clean, I lick my lips again, taste the blood. I pull my lower lip into my mouth, sucking gently, but there's more... Gods she bled on me... My hands reach up, trembling to wipe the blood away, there's dampness there. My own tears. Fuck.
The darkness rolls around inside me. I hear it whisper, "I'm still here, Chris. You can cage me. You can tease me. You can try and ignore me, but I'm still here. Always here."
I roll over, unscrew the bottle of coke on my night stand, open the pill bottle, pour one into my hand, toss it into my mouth and take a swallow of coke. It's going to be a long day. Fuck me if it isn't.......
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/end crazy dream sequence.
Some people may read this and consider the detail of the dream itself to sound false. I dream vividly... And this dream was more. I remember perhaps half of my dreams, at least temporarily, usually much longer if I record a synopsis afterwards (which I will do if it was fun, cool, or unique, since I'm a writer it's great inspiration), or share them with a friend, or in my private journal. I shared this one with someone within hours of having it, but I think it would have still been there until now and even longer, even if I hadn't.
I spent two days after this dream randomly getting the scent of death caught in my nose, or the taste of blood on my tongue.
So this is my offering to the BDSM gods, such as it is. Enjoy, or at the least, realize what my darkness is and maybe don't consider poking it. I keep it under tight rein. It doesn't like being poked anymore than a rabid dog.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Dream Sequence #3
Dream sequences.... I've been having strange dreams lately, detailed to a fault, and rather extensive in nature. Hell, not even the norm for what I'm particularly interested in, but rather in depth and unique in and of their own accord.
That being said, these dreams being as interesting as they are, I decided to share them. If no other reason than the "cool" factor.
Dream #3... Why three instead of one? Because it is the one that is still fresh in my mind, and the other two are already seared there for whatever reason. (note, cool factor).
So this is last night's dream fiasco. Or this morning for those who actually keep track of my sleep schedule.
I'm part of a group of people. It seems regular day to day living in a city, or a town. Except there's an underground aspect to it. But not one that everyone is invited to. It's modern, and seems pleasant enough.
Until someone needs something... Or there is an incident. It seems the form of witness protection in this community is to join the resistance. I don't know if this is because the law is corrupt, or if the currupt are the law.
I witnessed something... A -very- convoluted crime. So I sought out protection. The result of this protection was a complete make over. I was made into someone else. Facial reconstruction, change in pose, body type, the works. I was in essence changed after witnessing this murder.
This change gave me access to the underground such as it were. Which had a very delicious burger joint on site. Cheap too.
The front seemed to be a video store, or a video store was the only place I could go. It seemed that I could only rent movies on VHS and watch them, which didn't seem to interest me at all as I didn't at all take into account what I was watching.
Though I do recall stopping by a series of porn movies, where the star was there... He/She was a transgender black... uhm... I'm gonna go with cross dresser, or pre-op... Because they were large, and I seem to recall "knowing" they were intact.
They asked me what my interest was, and I shrugged and pointed out that one of the ladies in the video on the cover, looked completely disinterested. The person started to get pouty, and sulky and upset. To alleviate their emotions, I recall pointing to another of the DVDs and saying, "this is my favourite, you know you're still special and talented." I chose the cover based solely on the woman on the cover, mind... They started to go into detail about morning sexual routines apparently on the video... I moved away saying I didn't need to hear any of this, and I was busy.
Apparently the authorities were looking for someone in relation to the original murder... I say original, because at some point it had developed that the murderer knew I had seen them kill the person, and attacked me, and I in response killed them. The issue however wasn't so much that I killed the person, but that there were bounties going up and out on anyone with knowledge of the crime, and a bounty on the murderer. Me being the murderer of the murderer apparently would make me fair game.
I went back to the "specialist"... The (in essence) leader of this underground society, whom helped... I recall him getting pissy that whenever I needed something, someone found, something acquired, I always came to him. This seemed to imply I used him as a source rather often. I was rather eccentric. I explained to him the situation... I was in danger because I had seen this murder. Furthermore, I had killed the murderer.
I get this feeling that there is a transition of crimes from the murdered to the murderer... (IE: if you shop lifted, and I killed you, I am not only guilty of murder, but shop lifting as well).
I tell him I need to be protected to the enth degree, I explain why. I am transformed again. Changed... From who I have become, into a tribal african. Not african american, merely african. Minus the accent. Right down to traditional dress. This seems to work well for me... I become friends with a young woman and her mother.
Until I'm in a cab... Which is stopped and a man pulls me out. He looks Native American... He says that his friend saw me, saw I was from some medicine-something tribe (My head keeps thinking medicine hate... But that -totally- doesn't sound right, so I'm just gonna go with that it is lost in the dream).
A very large man steps up behind him... He has a black as coal tattoo across his eyes. I seem to inherently know he is a "black eye" tribesmen.. Who shouldn't be here, and furthermore... Are the predatory enemies of the tribe I have been made to look like.
Except my new tribal appearance... are evidently pacifists. I turn to run, and am chased by him and his friend. Two others that are obviously medically altered as I have been (same tribe etc) come out of nowhere and attack the two men chasing me. They are killed brutally.
This event seems to trigger a sting of some kind... Or a revolution. The underground overflows. There's thousands when there were hundreds before. Which leads to authoritative action. We end up having to run. Many of us are killed, there's warrants out, bounties for any black man of medicine-whatever tribe and any transgendered individuals fleeing. I have no idea how we escaped... Some clever ploy of the old mother and her daughter.
We were still pursued, us and perhaps two dozen others, into a building. As we were aiming to escape, the second-hand to the leader turns out to be a traitor, he tells the authority that we are about to flee, and that we have to be stopped now or there will be no chance of it at all.
We manage to escape as the guard on the back door seems to be a sympathizer.
As we make good our getaway, the right-hand admits to being the traitor, at which point the genius in charge (meant sincerely) punches him and knocks him from a highrise we are carefully making our way across, down to his death.
For some reason, I seem to know a safe haven. A place where we won't be prosecuted for our views and can continue the resistance unmolested. Something about it being a lawfirm I started before I had to go on the run and suffer my first change of appearance. Or something....
So there we flee.
The black transgender gets a new appearance into a slim white man... Very young in appearance. The mother gets a similar change to a slim young woman, and my female friend and I seem to stay the same.
So the five of us are out for dinner, and walk into a grotesque restaurant. The sushi was atrocious, so we leave without eating more than two bites, and definitely without paying. We walk into another restaurant. And as we are walking down a hallway, we realize something, we passed a split... One side says, "women" the other side says "Masters".
We back track and split accordingly... I playfully push our gay boy in with the women by the neck. He asks why, I tell him, "You like cock, and your more submissive than both of them. As far as this place is concerned, you might as well be a woman." he laughs and joins the women.
My mentor and I (yes, shifting terms, but at this point in the dream, I see no more real resistance, it seems to be focusing on the meal at hand, so easier to say mentor than former leader)... seem to get separated.
When next I glance, he and the mother are being escorted into the dining area. I have seem to have been summoned to the exit... Where I find the daughter, my friend, whom has apparently not made the "cut" for admittance to the restaurant. I'm not impressed. I begin to rip into the serving staff, shaming each in turn for their own faults and downfalls. This is cut short by a scuffle outside.
Apparently there is another restaurant across the parking lot from the master/slave one. They are battling in the parking lot. And I mean full out medieval style slaughter and destruction type of battle. I join in on the opposing side... Killing and butchering the master/slave forces until they are disposed of, or at least retreat.
Apparently the roman-style restaurant will even give us our own dining room, private and away from others.
This I have no gathered is due to other alterations on us by my mentor. The women now eat similar to birds.... Right down to the regurgitation of food for young. I enter the offending restaurant to pick up my mentor and friend's mother. As I come upon them, the woman has eaten an exorbitant amount... After all, "eat like a bird"... they consume several times their weight in a day. She mentions how this food would be so ideal for her young and comes up so easily... As she proceeds to vomit the food onto the table.
Her mouth seemed like a sausage mill, the food seemed unending, the patrons were disgusted, and the restaurant was losing busines... I find myself laughing my ass off at this delightful change of events, thinking, "We won't even have to pay, because everything she ordered is going to be back on the table. Even if pre-chewed."
It was around this time I woke up. It took several minutes for me to recall exactly what had happened in the dream... Triggering when it came to mind of the body modification.
Since this dream isn't as unique to me as one might think, it is the first I have decided to record, since the previous two are much more ingrained in my mind. And given how long this has become, I think I'll post the other two separately, a little bit later.
That being said, these dreams being as interesting as they are, I decided to share them. If no other reason than the "cool" factor.
Dream #3... Why three instead of one? Because it is the one that is still fresh in my mind, and the other two are already seared there for whatever reason. (note, cool factor).
So this is last night's dream fiasco. Or this morning for those who actually keep track of my sleep schedule.
I'm part of a group of people. It seems regular day to day living in a city, or a town. Except there's an underground aspect to it. But not one that everyone is invited to. It's modern, and seems pleasant enough.
Until someone needs something... Or there is an incident. It seems the form of witness protection in this community is to join the resistance. I don't know if this is because the law is corrupt, or if the currupt are the law.
I witnessed something... A -very- convoluted crime. So I sought out protection. The result of this protection was a complete make over. I was made into someone else. Facial reconstruction, change in pose, body type, the works. I was in essence changed after witnessing this murder.
This change gave me access to the underground such as it were. Which had a very delicious burger joint on site. Cheap too.
The front seemed to be a video store, or a video store was the only place I could go. It seemed that I could only rent movies on VHS and watch them, which didn't seem to interest me at all as I didn't at all take into account what I was watching.
Though I do recall stopping by a series of porn movies, where the star was there... He/She was a transgender black... uhm... I'm gonna go with cross dresser, or pre-op... Because they were large, and I seem to recall "knowing" they were intact.
They asked me what my interest was, and I shrugged and pointed out that one of the ladies in the video on the cover, looked completely disinterested. The person started to get pouty, and sulky and upset. To alleviate their emotions, I recall pointing to another of the DVDs and saying, "this is my favourite, you know you're still special and talented." I chose the cover based solely on the woman on the cover, mind... They started to go into detail about morning sexual routines apparently on the video... I moved away saying I didn't need to hear any of this, and I was busy.
Apparently the authorities were looking for someone in relation to the original murder... I say original, because at some point it had developed that the murderer knew I had seen them kill the person, and attacked me, and I in response killed them. The issue however wasn't so much that I killed the person, but that there were bounties going up and out on anyone with knowledge of the crime, and a bounty on the murderer. Me being the murderer of the murderer apparently would make me fair game.
I went back to the "specialist"... The (in essence) leader of this underground society, whom helped... I recall him getting pissy that whenever I needed something, someone found, something acquired, I always came to him. This seemed to imply I used him as a source rather often. I was rather eccentric. I explained to him the situation... I was in danger because I had seen this murder. Furthermore, I had killed the murderer.
I get this feeling that there is a transition of crimes from the murdered to the murderer... (IE: if you shop lifted, and I killed you, I am not only guilty of murder, but shop lifting as well).
I tell him I need to be protected to the enth degree, I explain why. I am transformed again. Changed... From who I have become, into a tribal african. Not african american, merely african. Minus the accent. Right down to traditional dress. This seems to work well for me... I become friends with a young woman and her mother.
Until I'm in a cab... Which is stopped and a man pulls me out. He looks Native American... He says that his friend saw me, saw I was from some medicine-something tribe (My head keeps thinking medicine hate... But that -totally- doesn't sound right, so I'm just gonna go with that it is lost in the dream).
A very large man steps up behind him... He has a black as coal tattoo across his eyes. I seem to inherently know he is a "black eye" tribesmen.. Who shouldn't be here, and furthermore... Are the predatory enemies of the tribe I have been made to look like.
Except my new tribal appearance... are evidently pacifists. I turn to run, and am chased by him and his friend. Two others that are obviously medically altered as I have been (same tribe etc) come out of nowhere and attack the two men chasing me. They are killed brutally.
This event seems to trigger a sting of some kind... Or a revolution. The underground overflows. There's thousands when there were hundreds before. Which leads to authoritative action. We end up having to run. Many of us are killed, there's warrants out, bounties for any black man of medicine-whatever tribe and any transgendered individuals fleeing. I have no idea how we escaped... Some clever ploy of the old mother and her daughter.
We were still pursued, us and perhaps two dozen others, into a building. As we were aiming to escape, the second-hand to the leader turns out to be a traitor, he tells the authority that we are about to flee, and that we have to be stopped now or there will be no chance of it at all.
We manage to escape as the guard on the back door seems to be a sympathizer.
As we make good our getaway, the right-hand admits to being the traitor, at which point the genius in charge (meant sincerely) punches him and knocks him from a highrise we are carefully making our way across, down to his death.
For some reason, I seem to know a safe haven. A place where we won't be prosecuted for our views and can continue the resistance unmolested. Something about it being a lawfirm I started before I had to go on the run and suffer my first change of appearance. Or something....
So there we flee.
The black transgender gets a new appearance into a slim white man... Very young in appearance. The mother gets a similar change to a slim young woman, and my female friend and I seem to stay the same.
So the five of us are out for dinner, and walk into a grotesque restaurant. The sushi was atrocious, so we leave without eating more than two bites, and definitely without paying. We walk into another restaurant. And as we are walking down a hallway, we realize something, we passed a split... One side says, "women" the other side says "Masters".
We back track and split accordingly... I playfully push our gay boy in with the women by the neck. He asks why, I tell him, "You like cock, and your more submissive than both of them. As far as this place is concerned, you might as well be a woman." he laughs and joins the women.
My mentor and I (yes, shifting terms, but at this point in the dream, I see no more real resistance, it seems to be focusing on the meal at hand, so easier to say mentor than former leader)... seem to get separated.
When next I glance, he and the mother are being escorted into the dining area. I have seem to have been summoned to the exit... Where I find the daughter, my friend, whom has apparently not made the "cut" for admittance to the restaurant. I'm not impressed. I begin to rip into the serving staff, shaming each in turn for their own faults and downfalls. This is cut short by a scuffle outside.
Apparently there is another restaurant across the parking lot from the master/slave one. They are battling in the parking lot. And I mean full out medieval style slaughter and destruction type of battle. I join in on the opposing side... Killing and butchering the master/slave forces until they are disposed of, or at least retreat.
Apparently the roman-style restaurant will even give us our own dining room, private and away from others.
This I have no gathered is due to other alterations on us by my mentor. The women now eat similar to birds.... Right down to the regurgitation of food for young. I enter the offending restaurant to pick up my mentor and friend's mother. As I come upon them, the woman has eaten an exorbitant amount... After all, "eat like a bird"... they consume several times their weight in a day. She mentions how this food would be so ideal for her young and comes up so easily... As she proceeds to vomit the food onto the table.
Her mouth seemed like a sausage mill, the food seemed unending, the patrons were disgusted, and the restaurant was losing busines... I find myself laughing my ass off at this delightful change of events, thinking, "We won't even have to pay, because everything she ordered is going to be back on the table. Even if pre-chewed."
It was around this time I woke up. It took several minutes for me to recall exactly what had happened in the dream... Triggering when it came to mind of the body modification.
Since this dream isn't as unique to me as one might think, it is the first I have decided to record, since the previous two are much more ingrained in my mind. And given how long this has become, I think I'll post the other two separately, a little bit later.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Mini-vent
Is it still me that makes you sweat?
Am I who you think about in bed?
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
Then think of what you did?
And how I hope to god he was worth it
when the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin
I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck
than any boy you'll ever meet sweety you had me
Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat
no no no, you know it will always just be me.....
I remember when I first heard panic! at the disco. Was playing Burnout 2 with friends and my friend had set them up on his xbox as a play list to overlap the game itself.
I also remember dedicating this very song to an ex-girlfriend when she left me for someone else. Perhaps a light immature revenge, however satisfying nonetheless for the time. The result though was a very large plaster vase being hurled at my head with extreme velocity. Turns out dedicating a song to your superiority to her choices while at her place of work is -not- the greatest delivery.
Over the years I've become horribly precise in my choices of play partners, lovers, and encounters. My standards have slid from substandard to sky high as my confidence and experience have increased through... well... experience.
Knowing your own value can be the height of closure. To know where you stand, and where others stand in regards to you, can be the different between being butt hurt over a "no" and finding complete amusement in opposiing facts and antics of someone.
I enjoy where I am now, compared to where I was years ago. I enjoy being able to look at a woman, and not think, "out of my league", but instead am able to say, with certainty, and she's the one to lose on it. It took me years to reach that point, moving through thought processes. My first step in that direction came from a past relationship, and Vertical Horizon... I remember the song...
I'm everything you want
I'm everything you need
I'm everything inside of you
that you wish you could be
I say all the right things
at exactly the right time
but I mean nothing to you
and I don't know why....
Back then I did say all the right things at the right time. I was careful with my words, I thought, re-thought, and then re-examined every word before it left my lips, because it had so much meaning behind it, so much innuendo, so many lines to read between, so many shadows covering subtleties. I don't say the right things anymore. I say the truth, I speak my mind, and I do it with simple honesty.
Honesty is a hard thing to ask from someone, after all, when someone is only looking for one thing, the truth and honesty is rarely in their play book. Of course, when they lie and abuse a situation, they do tend to miss out on the truth of things, a friendship that could have been, or a simple life that should have been... I do so hate liars and users.
Which should be clarified, I suppose... the users part. Since everyone uses everyone for something at some point. It's usually symbiotic, it is how life goes, after all.
However people who have the sole goal to use someone, someones, to merely get by on looks, or cheekiness, or the belief that someone will always catch them when they fall... Those people bother me.
Not sure what I'm saying, over all... Venting things from my mind, getting them off my chest before they implode, I suppose. Which is a shame they are there in that context, since they never flow as well when it is pressured in such a way. I may edit this in the future, but I highly doubt it, as I am a procrastinator, and even if it is maddenly out of order and much out of context, it gets a point across.
Such is life... On a brighter note, I know where I've wasted my time, and have had it reinforced twice over. Now I know where to place my generosity in the future. Shame that, as I'm a very generous and loyal friend when it comes down to the bottom line.
Cheers,
Me.
Am I who you think about in bed?
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
Then think of what you did?
And how I hope to god he was worth it
when the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin
I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck
than any boy you'll ever meet sweety you had me
Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat
no no no, you know it will always just be me.....
I remember when I first heard panic! at the disco. Was playing Burnout 2 with friends and my friend had set them up on his xbox as a play list to overlap the game itself.
I also remember dedicating this very song to an ex-girlfriend when she left me for someone else. Perhaps a light immature revenge, however satisfying nonetheless for the time. The result though was a very large plaster vase being hurled at my head with extreme velocity. Turns out dedicating a song to your superiority to her choices while at her place of work is -not- the greatest delivery.
Over the years I've become horribly precise in my choices of play partners, lovers, and encounters. My standards have slid from substandard to sky high as my confidence and experience have increased through... well... experience.
Knowing your own value can be the height of closure. To know where you stand, and where others stand in regards to you, can be the different between being butt hurt over a "no" and finding complete amusement in opposiing facts and antics of someone.
I enjoy where I am now, compared to where I was years ago. I enjoy being able to look at a woman, and not think, "out of my league", but instead am able to say, with certainty, and she's the one to lose on it. It took me years to reach that point, moving through thought processes. My first step in that direction came from a past relationship, and Vertical Horizon... I remember the song...
I'm everything you want
I'm everything you need
I'm everything inside of you
that you wish you could be
I say all the right things
at exactly the right time
but I mean nothing to you
and I don't know why....
Back then I did say all the right things at the right time. I was careful with my words, I thought, re-thought, and then re-examined every word before it left my lips, because it had so much meaning behind it, so much innuendo, so many lines to read between, so many shadows covering subtleties. I don't say the right things anymore. I say the truth, I speak my mind, and I do it with simple honesty.
Honesty is a hard thing to ask from someone, after all, when someone is only looking for one thing, the truth and honesty is rarely in their play book. Of course, when they lie and abuse a situation, they do tend to miss out on the truth of things, a friendship that could have been, or a simple life that should have been... I do so hate liars and users.
Which should be clarified, I suppose... the users part. Since everyone uses everyone for something at some point. It's usually symbiotic, it is how life goes, after all.
However people who have the sole goal to use someone, someones, to merely get by on looks, or cheekiness, or the belief that someone will always catch them when they fall... Those people bother me.
Not sure what I'm saying, over all... Venting things from my mind, getting them off my chest before they implode, I suppose. Which is a shame they are there in that context, since they never flow as well when it is pressured in such a way. I may edit this in the future, but I highly doubt it, as I am a procrastinator, and even if it is maddenly out of order and much out of context, it gets a point across.
Such is life... On a brighter note, I know where I've wasted my time, and have had it reinforced twice over. Now I know where to place my generosity in the future. Shame that, as I'm a very generous and loyal friend when it comes down to the bottom line.
Cheers,
Me.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Wow. Just Wow.
I really don't know how else to describe the way I'm feeling right now. It's phenomenal. It's great. It's... Wow.
I went out to coffee tonight for the first time in two months or so, for the second time in over a year and a half. Over a year and a half since I said, "I'll be back to coffee regularly once I move." A year and a half since I decided that coffee was too much bullshit with what Brigham was spreading about me and the rumour mills and BS and problems, and drama that I honestly just didn't want to deal with at all so just stopped going.
Only one thing steered my decision today to go to coffee, and that is the presence of a girl I've been flirting with on fetlife, a nice 19 year old with similar interests to myself, at least music-wise. I went, and though she seemed to be very popular with the single guys, it came to be... noticed... that I was the only Dominant man that was actually there to speak to. It seemed fairly lucky in my mind, though she did end up going off with two single men.
Not sure if I consider them competition for her affections or not, but of course, me being as direct as I am, intend to find out if they are by simply asking her. I'm not looking for anything, but if something happens, I prefer to know where the world stands.
However, back to going out tonight. My decision may have been based on the presence of a beautiful young woman with a really cool name, but it was made amazing due to the people there. I've never been filled with such a feeling of happiness, excitement, love, and joy at the sight of people in my life.
I got to see Bear again, and three hugs within a minute later, we finally broke apart, talked, how he had given me space, how he had waited for me patiently... I gave his wife Pixie a hug as well, she was also deeply missed, as I love them both as great and amazing people. As a surprise appearance, Neal even showed up, and I regre to say I burned his hand as I rushed him and swept him up in a hug and he spilled some of his coffee.
Sorry I burned him, not sorry I jumped him.
I got to see so many people that I've not seen in some time, people I missed at my last coffee outing, people that I didn't even know were still around, and I got to meet new people (one person even said I seemed "awesome" which made my night, really, and she's a new friend on fet as well. I met people I've heard about, but not met, and I got to see the new "young" crowd that has been sending the older cliques to the shadows.
I have to admit, that a lot of the young people are almost too young for me... 18-20 years old, provocative, and less discrete than those of us who have been in the lifestyle longer. It reminds me of how incestuous our community can be, and they seem to represent it. They are not at all subtle in their flirtations, and bites and licks and kisses were exchanged openly between several people, either as greetings, play, or good byes.
Of course, given that I was there near solely to see a 19 year old, I'm hardly one to speak of talking down the younger generation, however that is how life seems to work, is it not? I've added four new people to my friend's list, as well as learned new things of others who are friends in the lifestyle, such as the news that Bear and Pixie are hoping to move into Barrie.
The last time I played with Bear, he damn near pulled the ceiling down in my basement. The man is massive in a way that defies definition, he also was a superb canvas to play with, and I eagerly await the opportunity I can play with him again, at his own home perhaps, when he is within a closer range to me.
My medication is working. Even now, after the night, after the poi by the beach, after the people are gone, after the good byes, as I sit alone in my room, after I've sent off half a dozen messages to people, I'm STILL not coming done. I'm not breathing in and thinking, "what did I fuck up tonight?" Not at all. In fact, I know I DIDN'T fuck anything up tonight, and that if, somehow, someway, she decides that she has no interest in me, it will be HER fault, and her loss.
I'm feeling FANTASTIC and I don't know if it is all the positive energy that was around me tonight, or if it is the drugs working in my system. Whatever wants to take credit, feel free. But this day started out good with a shower and a shave, then some comedy shows, and ending off with dinner with Camille, coffee with a great group of people, and fire spinning at the water front. I can't be happier with how it all went.
Maybe I'll update later with the shit storm that's been going on in my life. But tonight? Tonight I can't be anything but happy.
Cheers,
Chris.
I went out to coffee tonight for the first time in two months or so, for the second time in over a year and a half. Over a year and a half since I said, "I'll be back to coffee regularly once I move." A year and a half since I decided that coffee was too much bullshit with what Brigham was spreading about me and the rumour mills and BS and problems, and drama that I honestly just didn't want to deal with at all so just stopped going.
Only one thing steered my decision today to go to coffee, and that is the presence of a girl I've been flirting with on fetlife, a nice 19 year old with similar interests to myself, at least music-wise. I went, and though she seemed to be very popular with the single guys, it came to be... noticed... that I was the only Dominant man that was actually there to speak to. It seemed fairly lucky in my mind, though she did end up going off with two single men.
Not sure if I consider them competition for her affections or not, but of course, me being as direct as I am, intend to find out if they are by simply asking her. I'm not looking for anything, but if something happens, I prefer to know where the world stands.
However, back to going out tonight. My decision may have been based on the presence of a beautiful young woman with a really cool name, but it was made amazing due to the people there. I've never been filled with such a feeling of happiness, excitement, love, and joy at the sight of people in my life.
I got to see Bear again, and three hugs within a minute later, we finally broke apart, talked, how he had given me space, how he had waited for me patiently... I gave his wife Pixie a hug as well, she was also deeply missed, as I love them both as great and amazing people. As a surprise appearance, Neal even showed up, and I regre to say I burned his hand as I rushed him and swept him up in a hug and he spilled some of his coffee.
Sorry I burned him, not sorry I jumped him.
I got to see so many people that I've not seen in some time, people I missed at my last coffee outing, people that I didn't even know were still around, and I got to meet new people (one person even said I seemed "awesome" which made my night, really, and she's a new friend on fet as well. I met people I've heard about, but not met, and I got to see the new "young" crowd that has been sending the older cliques to the shadows.
I have to admit, that a lot of the young people are almost too young for me... 18-20 years old, provocative, and less discrete than those of us who have been in the lifestyle longer. It reminds me of how incestuous our community can be, and they seem to represent it. They are not at all subtle in their flirtations, and bites and licks and kisses were exchanged openly between several people, either as greetings, play, or good byes.
Of course, given that I was there near solely to see a 19 year old, I'm hardly one to speak of talking down the younger generation, however that is how life seems to work, is it not? I've added four new people to my friend's list, as well as learned new things of others who are friends in the lifestyle, such as the news that Bear and Pixie are hoping to move into Barrie.
The last time I played with Bear, he damn near pulled the ceiling down in my basement. The man is massive in a way that defies definition, he also was a superb canvas to play with, and I eagerly await the opportunity I can play with him again, at his own home perhaps, when he is within a closer range to me.
My medication is working. Even now, after the night, after the poi by the beach, after the people are gone, after the good byes, as I sit alone in my room, after I've sent off half a dozen messages to people, I'm STILL not coming done. I'm not breathing in and thinking, "what did I fuck up tonight?" Not at all. In fact, I know I DIDN'T fuck anything up tonight, and that if, somehow, someway, she decides that she has no interest in me, it will be HER fault, and her loss.
I'm feeling FANTASTIC and I don't know if it is all the positive energy that was around me tonight, or if it is the drugs working in my system. Whatever wants to take credit, feel free. But this day started out good with a shower and a shave, then some comedy shows, and ending off with dinner with Camille, coffee with a great group of people, and fire spinning at the water front. I can't be happier with how it all went.
Maybe I'll update later with the shit storm that's been going on in my life. But tonight? Tonight I can't be anything but happy.
Cheers,
Chris.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Life as we know it
Both my favourite and least favourite place to be, is inside my own head.
My head is full of delights, fantasies, creativity, stories, ideas, worlds, people, thoughts, desires, hopes, dreams, love, joy... It is also full of horrors. Sins, darkness, depression, thoughts, fears, hate, sadness, pain, sorrow, loss.
It is the best place to be in the darkness before sleep takes me, where my mind can paint a fantasy world, a whole scenario from which to draw inspiration. One of the reasons I love that my phone has a notepad on it where I can toss in bullet notes to mark the thought process. At least when it is worth noting.
It is also the worst place to be when stress and anxiety are knocking at my door, when the darkness creeps in on the outskirts of where my mind wants to roam, when the thoughts run from the fantastical, to the reality. When I think of my reality, I begin to succumb to the darkness, and I begin to see things that aren't there, or more often, refuse to see things that -are- there (like hope, friends, loved ones, etc).
I can't always control it, and the distractions that keep me from it are as often the cause as they are the savior from it. Such as a comedy show, a video game, etc. These things, though helpful, are just as much a detriment when done alone.
This past week, I've been losing myself inside my own head, which causes issues when life isn't coming up roses. My saving grace, though being a single player video game(s), has been supplemented with the presence of friends. Whether watching someone else play, or playing with them nearby doing other things, the simple presence of someone else while you distract yourself, can often be the key implement which prevents the darkness from doing more than encroaching on your thoughts.
For this, I am thankful to Travis and Kait, as friends, as companions in life, and as people I consider to be part of the select few I care deeply for and trust.
It may be simply hanging out, or perhaps as I see it more often, them just tolerating my existence within their lives, but more often than not, that tolerance is a lifeline for me, and something that keeps me firmly grounded in the here and now, as opposed to the past, the sins, and the loss and sorrow of what is behind me.
As long as people like them, Neal, and alei, are in my life, I'll always have a way to cope, a way to make it through to see the next sunrise, and a way to see past the darkness that fills this world and myself.
This isn't much of an update, I know. Probably because there is very little to update on. Nothing has changed or progressed much from the last entry. I'm waiting for the results of my blood work to come in the mail so I can begin the application process for ODSP (the results are in, positive, if I failed to mention that previously), just waiting to get my copy of them. Nothing special has happened, nothing great or mind blowing.
Diablo 3 has lost its' shine within the first month. Their patches and gameplay having become old and weathered quickly, as well as their limitations to what the classes have at their disposal. Which is to say, of five classes, only two are endgame viable without insane amounts of gear grinding.
So yeah, nothing else happening. Playing Dark Souls in the basement when I can, watching Burn Notice, True Blood and misc. shows when I can't play the games with T&K, and getting rest here and there.
Cheers,
Chris.
My head is full of delights, fantasies, creativity, stories, ideas, worlds, people, thoughts, desires, hopes, dreams, love, joy... It is also full of horrors. Sins, darkness, depression, thoughts, fears, hate, sadness, pain, sorrow, loss.
It is the best place to be in the darkness before sleep takes me, where my mind can paint a fantasy world, a whole scenario from which to draw inspiration. One of the reasons I love that my phone has a notepad on it where I can toss in bullet notes to mark the thought process. At least when it is worth noting.
It is also the worst place to be when stress and anxiety are knocking at my door, when the darkness creeps in on the outskirts of where my mind wants to roam, when the thoughts run from the fantastical, to the reality. When I think of my reality, I begin to succumb to the darkness, and I begin to see things that aren't there, or more often, refuse to see things that -are- there (like hope, friends, loved ones, etc).
I can't always control it, and the distractions that keep me from it are as often the cause as they are the savior from it. Such as a comedy show, a video game, etc. These things, though helpful, are just as much a detriment when done alone.
This past week, I've been losing myself inside my own head, which causes issues when life isn't coming up roses. My saving grace, though being a single player video game(s), has been supplemented with the presence of friends. Whether watching someone else play, or playing with them nearby doing other things, the simple presence of someone else while you distract yourself, can often be the key implement which prevents the darkness from doing more than encroaching on your thoughts.
For this, I am thankful to Travis and Kait, as friends, as companions in life, and as people I consider to be part of the select few I care deeply for and trust.
It may be simply hanging out, or perhaps as I see it more often, them just tolerating my existence within their lives, but more often than not, that tolerance is a lifeline for me, and something that keeps me firmly grounded in the here and now, as opposed to the past, the sins, and the loss and sorrow of what is behind me.
As long as people like them, Neal, and alei, are in my life, I'll always have a way to cope, a way to make it through to see the next sunrise, and a way to see past the darkness that fills this world and myself.
This isn't much of an update, I know. Probably because there is very little to update on. Nothing has changed or progressed much from the last entry. I'm waiting for the results of my blood work to come in the mail so I can begin the application process for ODSP (the results are in, positive, if I failed to mention that previously), just waiting to get my copy of them. Nothing special has happened, nothing great or mind blowing.
Diablo 3 has lost its' shine within the first month. Their patches and gameplay having become old and weathered quickly, as well as their limitations to what the classes have at their disposal. Which is to say, of five classes, only two are endgame viable without insane amounts of gear grinding.
So yeah, nothing else happening. Playing Dark Souls in the basement when I can, watching Burn Notice, True Blood and misc. shows when I can't play the games with T&K, and getting rest here and there.
Cheers,
Chris.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Do or do not
There is no try.
Yeah, star wars philosophy for the win.
Seems to fit most situations, though. Go the whole way, or stay at the beginning, don't aim for the middle. Don't tell a half truth, don't just tease a story, don't merely offer a maybe.
Life has been the norm for me the past few weeks, nothing new or spectacular, just the same old, same old. Went to the movies with friends on friday as a birthday thing for Kait. Dinner at Marketplae, then saw Wrath of the Titans, which has cemented in my mind my utter disdain for Bill Nighy as an actor.
Aside from that, I've not received a call back from the neurologist for another appointment despite the fact they evidently have my cousin Samantha's information now to go on. I haven't had the opportunity to take in my cousin Phyllis' information as of yet. However it is on the to do list.
Diablo 3 is 45 days away, and I still haven't sampled it. Not even a spoofed beta. I've been hoping for an offline play crack, I mean hell, I have it downloaded to my computer right now, one would think someone would have cracked the hell out of it for single player stuff.
Albert Einstein once said that it is insanity to do the same task over and over again, and expect different results.
I've attempted friendship with R, with the normal light flirtation I have with all my female friends (and even one or two male friends), several times, expecting simple acceptance. I have been myself with her, with the same expectation, that it would be left alone. Most recently, I even made an attempt to be nice all the time, going so far as to say nothing if what I would have to say would be seen as cruel or unkind.
Nothing changes. She still bites my head off for imagined transgressions, she still keeps secrets to herself while teasing at what those secrets could mean. She still goes from flirtatious to cold in a matter of a day, and she still sends mixed signals worse than a military morse code communicator with tourettes.
Looking at my past, I can't count the amount of sweaters, jackets and shirts, that I've lost to ex girlfriends. That they've either taken from my place and worn home, or I left at their place, or they just grabbed, for the simple fact that it was mine, or, "it smelled like me".... I've never, in my entire life, had a simple friend do that. The two friends I have who borrowed my jacket for the walk home, returned the jacket within a few days and thanked me for the kindness.
Wanting to keep the scent of someone close, wanting to keep the presence of someone close, is an act of affection deeper than merely friendship. Anyone I've asked agrees with me on that. Except, there doesn't seem to be any affection whatsoever.
I'd think R has a twin, or a split personality, and they take turns out in the real world. One likes me a lot, one enjoys my company, while the other hates me from the bottom of her soul and wants nothing more than to rip me a new asshole at the drop of a hat.
That of course is improbable. In the mean time, she always asks me why I even put up with her... After this weekend, I wonder it myself.
Cheers,
Chris.
Edit: Names have been changed to protect the identity of the waffle iron mafia. <.<
Yeah, star wars philosophy for the win.
Seems to fit most situations, though. Go the whole way, or stay at the beginning, don't aim for the middle. Don't tell a half truth, don't just tease a story, don't merely offer a maybe.
Life has been the norm for me the past few weeks, nothing new or spectacular, just the same old, same old. Went to the movies with friends on friday as a birthday thing for Kait. Dinner at Marketplae, then saw Wrath of the Titans, which has cemented in my mind my utter disdain for Bill Nighy as an actor.
Aside from that, I've not received a call back from the neurologist for another appointment despite the fact they evidently have my cousin Samantha's information now to go on. I haven't had the opportunity to take in my cousin Phyllis' information as of yet. However it is on the to do list.
Diablo 3 is 45 days away, and I still haven't sampled it. Not even a spoofed beta. I've been hoping for an offline play crack, I mean hell, I have it downloaded to my computer right now, one would think someone would have cracked the hell out of it for single player stuff.
Albert Einstein once said that it is insanity to do the same task over and over again, and expect different results.
I've attempted friendship with R, with the normal light flirtation I have with all my female friends (and even one or two male friends), several times, expecting simple acceptance. I have been myself with her, with the same expectation, that it would be left alone. Most recently, I even made an attempt to be nice all the time, going so far as to say nothing if what I would have to say would be seen as cruel or unkind.
Nothing changes. She still bites my head off for imagined transgressions, she still keeps secrets to herself while teasing at what those secrets could mean. She still goes from flirtatious to cold in a matter of a day, and she still sends mixed signals worse than a military morse code communicator with tourettes.
Looking at my past, I can't count the amount of sweaters, jackets and shirts, that I've lost to ex girlfriends. That they've either taken from my place and worn home, or I left at their place, or they just grabbed, for the simple fact that it was mine, or, "it smelled like me".... I've never, in my entire life, had a simple friend do that. The two friends I have who borrowed my jacket for the walk home, returned the jacket within a few days and thanked me for the kindness.
Wanting to keep the scent of someone close, wanting to keep the presence of someone close, is an act of affection deeper than merely friendship. Anyone I've asked agrees with me on that. Except, there doesn't seem to be any affection whatsoever.
I'd think R has a twin, or a split personality, and they take turns out in the real world. One likes me a lot, one enjoys my company, while the other hates me from the bottom of her soul and wants nothing more than to rip me a new asshole at the drop of a hat.
That of course is improbable. In the mean time, she always asks me why I even put up with her... After this weekend, I wonder it myself.
Cheers,
Chris.
Edit: Names have been changed to protect the identity of the waffle iron mafia. <.<
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Apathy
There's a difference between apathy, and indifference. The two are commonly associated, and usually confused with being synonymous with each other. They are not.
I've been guilty of the confusion, and have often considered myself apathetic. Apathy is the incapability of caring. Indifference is just not caring.
I'm indifferent. I have the capacity to care, I simply do not more often than not.
I'm not sure what else to consider it, really. Being indifferent to much in my life has kept me, for the most part, protected from it. My defensive mechanisms keep me protected as much as they harm what could ever be seen as something of a social life.
I'm egotistical... A form of peacocking... Cats do it, roosters, several lizards... Puffing out the fur/feathers/frills, pushing to look larger than life, when there's little to the core of it, in hopes that it will scare off predators. Of course, humans tend to act slightly differently, and it's as often likely to draw a predator as to scare them away.
I don't handle serious situations particularly well. I do... But I don't. I use humour to avoid allowing anything get too weighty, too indepth. Things can matter, they can be important, with an extreme gravity behind them, I'll still crack a joke at the inappropriate time. It's one of the main reasons that any relationship I am ever in, just doesn't work. It's hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't take anything seriously. I do take things seriously, inside, somewhere... Deep down where ya can't see, it can't get out, and it's probably begging to see the light of day.
I push people away. I have a habit, when someone is getting too close to me, to finding what buttons really upset them, hurt them, make them angry... And push them. Over and over again. I make them not want to be around me, because I'm simply -that- insensitive, that intolerable. It's easier if you can predict when and how a person will leave your life, because you are the cause, than if you are left in the dark just waiting for it to happen.
These things, I suppose, make me broken. They've been developed over the years, some more subtle, some less subtle, and on the whole, just as ridiculously overt and effective as they were ten years ago. People still don't like someone that can't hold a serious conversation when it is needed, they don't want to be around an egotistical prick who doesn't respect their boundaries. In the end, what it will amount to, is I will die alone.
There's many parts of me that hates the thought of that. I don't like being alone, I don't enjoy being in the dark with nothing to keep me company but the odd voice whispered in my mind that life isn't worth living and if I just found a sharp enough blade it could be done and over with. I don't enjoy that, but it has been a part of my existence for over 15 years. I'm ok with it, now. I can control the voice, or at the very least ignore it.
As many as the parts are that despise being alone, and hate the thought of being in the dark alone with no one at my side. There's a few parts, deep down, that accept it. It's life, it is going to happen the way it is meant to happen, and there is nothing that will change that. I can live with fate, or destiny, or what-have-you.
I had friends over on friday. I don't drink alone, but when someone is there to drink with, I have no issues on when it begins (mostly). So my first drink was poured shortly after noon. My last drink was poured around 10pm. I wasn't horribly drunk, but I was definitely on the heavy side of buzzed.
It was a fun day, with joking, talking, chilling out, discussing this and that, mocking people in our lives who think they matter, and recounting the marks of stupidity that other people have made in their lives thinking they're right.
One person left shortly after 10pm. The other stayed the night.
Nothing happened, not in the typical sense that one would expect when a girl spends the night in my bed. Well, it's not like she'd be the first to sleep in my bed as a friend with nothing happening. Camille slept in my bed without anything untoward happening. Admittedly, more happened friday night than was strictly appropriate. Which was my fault. I, as per the norm with this person, read body language wrong, acted on it wrong, and mayhaps pushed a touch too far at the wrong time.
Again, nothing too extreme... Just... Stupidity.
I'm not necessarily sure how to take it, in truth. How one can say they may have feelings for me, but they see how doomed any relationship can be, between her and I, and as such isn't going to approach it at all. That's supposed to be my line, and it's not supposed to hit them until at least two or three weeks into the relationship.
I get it, of course. I can see the billion reasons it wouldn't be a good idea anyways, of course, in my mind, most of them circle around my low self-esteem and shitty self-image issues. On the brighter note, self-confidence, and self-image aside, I've become damned good at hiding my insecurities from the world. You'd almost think I was a normal human being most of the time.
There's not a lot new going on in my life, if truth were to be told. More of the same, and less of the different. It's just a day in, day out, survival of the norm at this point in my life. Which I'm alright with, because as long as things are the same, it means they can't be worse, and my life, the last update that was given on my life, is actually going pretty well.
I do have an appointment on wednesday with my Neurologist. They have the results back from the trip to the genetics clinic, and will be more than happy to share those results with me. This is a benefit, as it will give me new information that I didn't have before, or at the very least hint at new information that I didn't have before. Or confirm the hints of the old information to make it new with a different coloured bow around it...?
Whatever it does, it will be more than I have now. Not that what I have now is all that spectacular.
Which reminds me, after the genetics clinic, I need to make an appointment with my doctor. If I truly think I can apply for ODSP, it won't be something easily attained if some of my medical issues are unmedicated. There is no medication for my genetic shit, but my depression can be controlled. There are some old school drugs that haven't been attempted yet, or new ones that have a prettier wrapper on them. Lithium, Ativan... I've not had either of those, and though lithium is better for manic episodes (which I've not had one of in awhile), I've read it can help as a backbone for other medications, and I've heard good things about ativan.
So it is a thought, and it is a hope. I can always see what can be worked out. If I need to find a cocktail that keeps me sane without making me a robot, I will do it. Not everything is a one pill fix after all. At least not until I find a prescription for Fukitol.
Cheers,
Chris.
I've been guilty of the confusion, and have often considered myself apathetic. Apathy is the incapability of caring. Indifference is just not caring.
I'm indifferent. I have the capacity to care, I simply do not more often than not.
I'm not sure what else to consider it, really. Being indifferent to much in my life has kept me, for the most part, protected from it. My defensive mechanisms keep me protected as much as they harm what could ever be seen as something of a social life.
I'm egotistical... A form of peacocking... Cats do it, roosters, several lizards... Puffing out the fur/feathers/frills, pushing to look larger than life, when there's little to the core of it, in hopes that it will scare off predators. Of course, humans tend to act slightly differently, and it's as often likely to draw a predator as to scare them away.
I don't handle serious situations particularly well. I do... But I don't. I use humour to avoid allowing anything get too weighty, too indepth. Things can matter, they can be important, with an extreme gravity behind them, I'll still crack a joke at the inappropriate time. It's one of the main reasons that any relationship I am ever in, just doesn't work. It's hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't take anything seriously. I do take things seriously, inside, somewhere... Deep down where ya can't see, it can't get out, and it's probably begging to see the light of day.
I push people away. I have a habit, when someone is getting too close to me, to finding what buttons really upset them, hurt them, make them angry... And push them. Over and over again. I make them not want to be around me, because I'm simply -that- insensitive, that intolerable. It's easier if you can predict when and how a person will leave your life, because you are the cause, than if you are left in the dark just waiting for it to happen.
These things, I suppose, make me broken. They've been developed over the years, some more subtle, some less subtle, and on the whole, just as ridiculously overt and effective as they were ten years ago. People still don't like someone that can't hold a serious conversation when it is needed, they don't want to be around an egotistical prick who doesn't respect their boundaries. In the end, what it will amount to, is I will die alone.
There's many parts of me that hates the thought of that. I don't like being alone, I don't enjoy being in the dark with nothing to keep me company but the odd voice whispered in my mind that life isn't worth living and if I just found a sharp enough blade it could be done and over with. I don't enjoy that, but it has been a part of my existence for over 15 years. I'm ok with it, now. I can control the voice, or at the very least ignore it.
As many as the parts are that despise being alone, and hate the thought of being in the dark alone with no one at my side. There's a few parts, deep down, that accept it. It's life, it is going to happen the way it is meant to happen, and there is nothing that will change that. I can live with fate, or destiny, or what-have-you.
I had friends over on friday. I don't drink alone, but when someone is there to drink with, I have no issues on when it begins (mostly). So my first drink was poured shortly after noon. My last drink was poured around 10pm. I wasn't horribly drunk, but I was definitely on the heavy side of buzzed.
It was a fun day, with joking, talking, chilling out, discussing this and that, mocking people in our lives who think they matter, and recounting the marks of stupidity that other people have made in their lives thinking they're right.
One person left shortly after 10pm. The other stayed the night.
Nothing happened, not in the typical sense that one would expect when a girl spends the night in my bed. Well, it's not like she'd be the first to sleep in my bed as a friend with nothing happening. Camille slept in my bed without anything untoward happening. Admittedly, more happened friday night than was strictly appropriate. Which was my fault. I, as per the norm with this person, read body language wrong, acted on it wrong, and mayhaps pushed a touch too far at the wrong time.
Again, nothing too extreme... Just... Stupidity.
I'm not necessarily sure how to take it, in truth. How one can say they may have feelings for me, but they see how doomed any relationship can be, between her and I, and as such isn't going to approach it at all. That's supposed to be my line, and it's not supposed to hit them until at least two or three weeks into the relationship.
I get it, of course. I can see the billion reasons it wouldn't be a good idea anyways, of course, in my mind, most of them circle around my low self-esteem and shitty self-image issues. On the brighter note, self-confidence, and self-image aside, I've become damned good at hiding my insecurities from the world. You'd almost think I was a normal human being most of the time.
There's not a lot new going on in my life, if truth were to be told. More of the same, and less of the different. It's just a day in, day out, survival of the norm at this point in my life. Which I'm alright with, because as long as things are the same, it means they can't be worse, and my life, the last update that was given on my life, is actually going pretty well.
I do have an appointment on wednesday with my Neurologist. They have the results back from the trip to the genetics clinic, and will be more than happy to share those results with me. This is a benefit, as it will give me new information that I didn't have before, or at the very least hint at new information that I didn't have before. Or confirm the hints of the old information to make it new with a different coloured bow around it...?
Whatever it does, it will be more than I have now. Not that what I have now is all that spectacular.
Which reminds me, after the genetics clinic, I need to make an appointment with my doctor. If I truly think I can apply for ODSP, it won't be something easily attained if some of my medical issues are unmedicated. There is no medication for my genetic shit, but my depression can be controlled. There are some old school drugs that haven't been attempted yet, or new ones that have a prettier wrapper on them. Lithium, Ativan... I've not had either of those, and though lithium is better for manic episodes (which I've not had one of in awhile), I've read it can help as a backbone for other medications, and I've heard good things about ativan.
So it is a thought, and it is a hope. I can always see what can be worked out. If I need to find a cocktail that keeps me sane without making me a robot, I will do it. Not everything is a one pill fix after all. At least not until I find a prescription for Fukitol.
Cheers,
Chris.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Condemnation
So I'm turning 27 in a couple of days.
The arrangements are a couple weeks old, not that it's anything fancy. Myself and a few friends (one car load) going to dinner at the marketplace where it's a cheap and very expansive buffet, and then heading out to the movies to watch the new Underworld movie.
I figured it was simplistic, and easily managed. I wasn't planning a huge party, just dinner with friends and a movie I want to see (and a couple of my friends are eager for as well)...
I knew there'd be a trick shot as Travis has work issues during the week, and I thought he may have to work until 9pm on tuesday. I figured if that was the case, well, there's a 10:30pm showing of the movie too. So he has to miss dinner, can still hit up the movie, right? Well, him having to work in the morning caused that plan to go down the drain. After a 13hr shift, with no chance to sleep in the next day, he's not going to be interested in staying up past midnight for a movie.
Alas, I lose Travis for the celebration. But shit happens... Except... Kait can't go either, not because of work, but because Travis was one of the friends that wanted to see the movie, and he wants to see it with her. So since he wants to see it with her, and she can't see it with me if she's to see it with him. She's cancelled as well.
So from five people going (two of them were the ones originally asked even), has gone down to three. I've extended an invitation to another friend, and may even poke Neal to see if he'd like to go, though I bet dimes to dollars he probably has to work, and his schedule is a hell of a lot less forgiving, since he works late night closing schedule more often than not.
It is just depressing that two friends aren't going to be able to make it, and yeah, I probably (I did) handle it poorly, cuz it hurts that they won't be able to come, and hurts more that one is being denied going because she isn't allowed to see the movie without him. Decisions, choices, and walks of life. In my hurt state I cancelled our plans this afternoon for an Underworld Marathon, which I figured would be a great way for Kait to see the movies for the first time, and for Travis and I to refresh our memories on the movies.. Cuz honestly, they are awesome movies, and I wanted a refresher course on them before I went to see the newest one which takes place after the second one.
Instead I'll be going over to alei's place to watch them, since she hasn't seen them either and she's coming on tuesday as well.
I owe Travis and Kait an apology, and when I am less pissed off at the situation, and a little more level on it and have the chance to calm down, relax, and pull myself out of the depressive slump that it has put me in to have two friends absent for my 27th... Well, I'll give them that apology. Probably tomorrow, maybe wednesday.... It will happen when my mind is more focused and clear and I can offer it with sincerity instead of out of necessity.
There's not a lot more to add to this, this is a vent over recent events, nothing more. I have to get ready and head out, have movies to watch and people to hang out with.
Cheers.
The arrangements are a couple weeks old, not that it's anything fancy. Myself and a few friends (one car load) going to dinner at the marketplace where it's a cheap and very expansive buffet, and then heading out to the movies to watch the new Underworld movie.
I figured it was simplistic, and easily managed. I wasn't planning a huge party, just dinner with friends and a movie I want to see (and a couple of my friends are eager for as well)...
I knew there'd be a trick shot as Travis has work issues during the week, and I thought he may have to work until 9pm on tuesday. I figured if that was the case, well, there's a 10:30pm showing of the movie too. So he has to miss dinner, can still hit up the movie, right? Well, him having to work in the morning caused that plan to go down the drain. After a 13hr shift, with no chance to sleep in the next day, he's not going to be interested in staying up past midnight for a movie.
Alas, I lose Travis for the celebration. But shit happens... Except... Kait can't go either, not because of work, but because Travis was one of the friends that wanted to see the movie, and he wants to see it with her. So since he wants to see it with her, and she can't see it with me if she's to see it with him. She's cancelled as well.
So from five people going (two of them were the ones originally asked even), has gone down to three. I've extended an invitation to another friend, and may even poke Neal to see if he'd like to go, though I bet dimes to dollars he probably has to work, and his schedule is a hell of a lot less forgiving, since he works late night closing schedule more often than not.
It is just depressing that two friends aren't going to be able to make it, and yeah, I probably (I did) handle it poorly, cuz it hurts that they won't be able to come, and hurts more that one is being denied going because she isn't allowed to see the movie without him. Decisions, choices, and walks of life. In my hurt state I cancelled our plans this afternoon for an Underworld Marathon, which I figured would be a great way for Kait to see the movies for the first time, and for Travis and I to refresh our memories on the movies.. Cuz honestly, they are awesome movies, and I wanted a refresher course on them before I went to see the newest one which takes place after the second one.
Instead I'll be going over to alei's place to watch them, since she hasn't seen them either and she's coming on tuesday as well.
I owe Travis and Kait an apology, and when I am less pissed off at the situation, and a little more level on it and have the chance to calm down, relax, and pull myself out of the depressive slump that it has put me in to have two friends absent for my 27th... Well, I'll give them that apology. Probably tomorrow, maybe wednesday.... It will happen when my mind is more focused and clear and I can offer it with sincerity instead of out of necessity.
There's not a lot more to add to this, this is a vent over recent events, nothing more. I have to get ready and head out, have movies to watch and people to hang out with.
Cheers.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Pet peeves
Ya know... So many things irk me, and it's kind of strange as so little bugs me in life. There are just a few things that I have begun to notice that make me think, "Are you fucking kidding me??"
One of them is something that chandra and I got into an argument over more than once... and that is two women calling each other, "wifey" or "wife" or... what the fuck ever....
Are you legally wed? No... Ok.... How about common law? No? ... Uh.... Are you at the very least in a relationship of any kind?? No...... Just friends.... WHAT THE HELL???
This is one of those things that just doesn't have any place as a common saying, or a common anything... Yet I see it more and more among people. It's something that makes my eye twitch with the redundancy and retardation of the simple implication with the profound meaning that they just simply don't seem to grasp.
Something else that has lately begun to bother me... Is the whole, "women with curves are hotter than skinny chicks" movement. A lot of hot pictures are going up on various sites, facebook, fetlife, twitter, etc etc... These women, are indeed hot, and they do indeed have curves. They weigh in at perhaps 150-170 pounds, maybe a lil more, and they are deliciously proportioned.
I know many women that fall into this category, girls who are not the typical model sized anorexic sluts that parade around in a size 0.
So I do agree, that women with curves are hot. But it has to be women with CURVES... ROUND is not a fucking curve. There comes to a point where you cannot claim to be a woman with curves, where you slide from "curvy" into BBW. This is something that is beginning to bother me as well. No offense to those who are BBW, you are beautiful in your own way, however you are -not- curvy.
So those who are over 250 pounds, and their waistline isn't so much a waist as an additive to their hips and stomach, and their curves amount to a gorgeous rack and... well... a gorgeous rack... You are not curvy, you are not voluptuous, you are rotund. This doesn't mean you aren't cute, or pretty, or beautiful. This merely means that those pictures of highly attractive hourglass figure women that you post like it's a representation of who you are.......... Isn't a fucking representation of you. But you keep working towards that, maybe one day you will be curvy.
---------------------------------------
God, that rant has been in me for over two weeks.
That being said, I received a follow up letter from the genetics clinic going over everything we went over while I was there. Their theory isn't so much muscular dystrophy, as it is a brand of muscular dystrophy called myotonic dystrophy, which has more to do with the nerves than the muscles themselves.
The blood is being tested for them to confirm the diagnosis, which should be done, according to the letter I have here, by about mid-february.
In the meantime, I need to get a new phone. My hopes of unlocking my iphone and using it for my new provider have fallen flat as I tried to unlock it myself, and ended up instead updated it and causing it to be unlockable entirely. Talk about a pain in the ass. So now it is sitting as a very expensive iPod with no use other than to be locked out in recovery mode until I can get around to bringing it down to Travis and Kait's place to re-update it sometime.
Not much else to report on. I feel so much more relaxed now that I was able to bitch.
Cheers.
One of them is something that chandra and I got into an argument over more than once... and that is two women calling each other, "wifey" or "wife" or... what the fuck ever....
Are you legally wed? No... Ok.... How about common law? No? ... Uh.... Are you at the very least in a relationship of any kind?? No...... Just friends.... WHAT THE HELL???
This is one of those things that just doesn't have any place as a common saying, or a common anything... Yet I see it more and more among people. It's something that makes my eye twitch with the redundancy and retardation of the simple implication with the profound meaning that they just simply don't seem to grasp.
Something else that has lately begun to bother me... Is the whole, "women with curves are hotter than skinny chicks" movement. A lot of hot pictures are going up on various sites, facebook, fetlife, twitter, etc etc... These women, are indeed hot, and they do indeed have curves. They weigh in at perhaps 150-170 pounds, maybe a lil more, and they are deliciously proportioned.
I know many women that fall into this category, girls who are not the typical model sized anorexic sluts that parade around in a size 0.
So I do agree, that women with curves are hot. But it has to be women with CURVES... ROUND is not a fucking curve. There comes to a point where you cannot claim to be a woman with curves, where you slide from "curvy" into BBW. This is something that is beginning to bother me as well. No offense to those who are BBW, you are beautiful in your own way, however you are -not- curvy.
So those who are over 250 pounds, and their waistline isn't so much a waist as an additive to their hips and stomach, and their curves amount to a gorgeous rack and... well... a gorgeous rack... You are not curvy, you are not voluptuous, you are rotund. This doesn't mean you aren't cute, or pretty, or beautiful. This merely means that those pictures of highly attractive hourglass figure women that you post like it's a representation of who you are.......... Isn't a fucking representation of you. But you keep working towards that, maybe one day you will be curvy.
---------------------------------------
God, that rant has been in me for over two weeks.
That being said, I received a follow up letter from the genetics clinic going over everything we went over while I was there. Their theory isn't so much muscular dystrophy, as it is a brand of muscular dystrophy called myotonic dystrophy, which has more to do with the nerves than the muscles themselves.
The blood is being tested for them to confirm the diagnosis, which should be done, according to the letter I have here, by about mid-february.
In the meantime, I need to get a new phone. My hopes of unlocking my iphone and using it for my new provider have fallen flat as I tried to unlock it myself, and ended up instead updated it and causing it to be unlockable entirely. Talk about a pain in the ass. So now it is sitting as a very expensive iPod with no use other than to be locked out in recovery mode until I can get around to bringing it down to Travis and Kait's place to re-update it sometime.
Not much else to report on. I feel so much more relaxed now that I was able to bitch.
Cheers.
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