BLAH!
Sunday, February 29, 2004
 
boggers.
Ever eat a bogger? like when you were a kid? maybe you were curious, maybe you were ponderous..maybe you just didn't know what else to do with it. At some point though, we all eat boggers. Tonight i ate a bogger. Not literally... I kissed 2 women. My best college friends...Ms.S and KYA It's a long story, but at some point peer pressure took over and we kissed. hmmm...bogger.

Thursday, February 26, 2004
 
just before class
I don't wanna leave it on that note. It's really nice to have someone care about me that way. and i am just upset that i messed up and wasn't there the way i should have been.h

 
dis/connect
DAMN IT. i hate myself sometimes. I'm not used to having to call people. not use to discusions, and i can't think ahead the way i want to. I went home with a man from the bar...spent the night at his place. slept in his arms, it was amazing. we talked in the morning, had a real conversation. sigh, but i got up, looked at my cell phone and saw all the messages left on it from Daddybear. I had texted him that night to get permision, and had made sure he had all the infor (name, number or st. address). But i should have made sure i was set. Daddybear called cuase it was schoolnight and he wanted to discuss it to be sure. I wasn't available and my phone was on vibrate. So he spent the night worrying. i suck. one of the better reasons not to get close to people, you can get hurt and lose sleep.

Wednesday, February 25, 2004
 
Color me Bad.
Oh and btw, I still haven't told Dad E. about the suicide. I want to, it's just that i want the next time i see him to be happy without undertones. So this thursday i see him at Bad F's Caning. we shall see.

 
BEST SIRS EVER!!!!!
DOGtags! In the mail I got dog tags, They say “property of” with SIR and DADDYBEAR then they list their numbers, and there is a STAR! It was so nice. I had an issue, they fix it. Meanwhile I gave head to guy tonight, it was fun. It was sort of just a show and play thing. He wants to do it again which, for me…wasn’t the point. I had fun with you, you can e-mail me, we will see what occurs. I miss my Sirs though, I called Daddybear when I left. I got his voicemail. I think my message was crazy jumbled. Pam isn’t coming back to the dorms. Neither is Glenda. Niether is Roger. They all want to leave. Can’t stand the stares, don’t want the questions. I get it. Meanwhile I think I am making a friend. Bad F. His is Dad E’s boy. Tonight he drove me home after this TES thing. On Thursday I watch him get caned as part of a teaching event. I brought up the suicide cause I just kept thinking about it. He has this feeling of calm about him this “its okay to talk” feeling. Maybe I have been hanging in the wrong group of leathermen in NYC? Maybe it’s time I re-look at this stuff. But I have decided NYC is not piss poor for leather. I think NYC is suffering from bad tops. It may take 5-10 years, but good tops are coming. I have met some. BAD F is one of them. He would hold you after I think. He would call you after. He would want you to call him too. There will be more on this but I need bed. So much thought. I am getting back in my sluty mood so this is good. Though I am worried about what my Sirs think of my hookups…so it’s forcing me to be a little more choosy. After all, I don’t want to damage their property before they see a return investment. See, economics is FUN! I WANT TO BE OVER THE FUCKIGN MOURNING PROCESS.

Monday, February 23, 2004
 
I am
I am oddly delicious. it describes me well. 3 phone calls to make tommorow. Meanwhile I am gaining an appreciation for the friends i have and the channels that exist for me. feverrat: Oddly Delicious

 
Certainty
There are only 2 certain things that scare me: When I don’t have any control, and scary freakish, crawling bugs. Not that I don’t have other fears. But those are the two things you can be certain about me being afraid of. Over the course of these last couple days, I have been told how this is not my fault (it’s not), and how I couldn’t have stopped him. That’s worse for me. That thought that I couldn’t stop it, that there was nothing I could have done. In my head I’m immortal, invincible, and sometimes, when the sky is clear, I’m pretty sure I could change the world with my thoughts. As of yet no one has disproved me. I mean, I’m not dead so immortal is kind of hard to disprove. And I have all my fingers and toes so who knows if they would grow back? But, I’m giving up on some of those thoughts. I’m keeping immortal, and I will until someone proves me wrong (and you can’t till I am dead). But this weekend meant a lot to me. I sobbed while watching steel magnolias, cursed the screen. I’m still raw about it all. but I’m getting better. Today has been pretty good, and yesterday felt okay. I snapped at Daddybear though, when he didn’t use Mikes name when telling a friends of his what happened. It was in-appropriate, I just wish there was a way to make this matter to everyone. But I suppose there isn’t. And I know it matters to Daddybear, but not in the direct way, its not that mike killed himself, it’s that I’m sad because mike is dead. I can deal with being cared about. Before I left today Sir and Daddybear spoke to me about yeah a,nd dressing right, and speaking well. I want to improve, I felt that today, I really want to be a good boy. See but already my minds working over time, this weekend, I need a distraction, and I need to move on. I want to leave this all behind like a bad party. Shave it off like a bad hair cut. Laser it away like an ugly scar. I won’t, I’m going to talk to my friends, deal with it. But that whole time. I intend to be sleeping around (giving head, kissing strangers, back alley nipple grabs). I want to be in a compromising position.

Saturday, February 21, 2004
 
Don’t leave me.
I love my friends. Every single one of them. I love my online friends for sick and twisted links they send me. I love my blogger friends for the e-mails I get encouraging or questioning or suggesting. I just feel like hell. MG was a such a great kid, and that’s the part that kills me. I know it’s fucked up, but I always imagined suicide as something for those kids who didn’t make many friends. Mike wasn’t one of those kids. He was weird, but cool. He volunteered for a number of gay organizations. When we had that last big snow storm, he walked the Brooklyn bridge with another friend of mine. He was funny, he was cute (totally vanilla, and he rejected me). I took him to his first gay bar, he was my roommate for orientation (we picked eachother). On his birthday I got him a bottle opener with a hundred dollar bill pressed on it. I should have done more. Maybe if he had a big party to remember he would have been happier. I want to envision foul play. Like he was sitting by that window and some mysterious third person pushed him. Or maybe that he was a spy. Killed in the line of duty. Not that it really matters. He’s gone, and I miss him. I called his cell phone 3 times today. Once when I first heard about it. I really thought he had picked up when his message started… the other times were just to be sure. It’s like this bad dream, this really bad dream. So today was cry day, I haven’t started yet, I can’t. I was going to drive out to Pennsylvania, to drop some friends off at their parents, but they decided to take the bus. Which is probably a good thing, since I don’t think I would have stopped driving. I’ve been wanting to call all my friends and tell them how shitty I feel, but each time I try, I just wind up telling them how much I care about them I almost didn’t tell my Sirs about it. I almost didn’t ask to see them, I almost didn’t go when they said I could come up. I hate saying it aloud. But let me describe my day: Last night I got an IM from mike, he wanted to hang, but I was at home. He told me to enjoy it, and said goodbye. I didn’t think much of it, so I logged off and went to bed. I got back to the dorms at about 9:40 this morning. I had my interview with the Aids hospice at 11:00 so I was heading to the shower when a doormate caught me. “where you hear last night?” “no, why?” “then you don’t know?” “know what?” “some guy killed himself last night…13 floor” “what?!” “yeah…Mike something” “Mike ______!?!” “sounds right” but he was wrong, it didn’t sound right. It still sounds wrong, mike shouldn’t be dead. I proceed to find myself punching the wall hoping to leave a dent. I went down to Pam’s room (she first found it all). Details are hazy, they wondered where I was, I try not to scream about them not calling me. They thought I was in the dorms…and I can’t really blame them. We lay on Pam’s bed for a bit. She sobs on my shoulder. It’s funny you would think a person would stop crying after a night, that it wouldn’t be possible to go that long. She tells me she keeps expecting to just start crying blood, like the well inside her would run dry. I’m angry. It feels like a teen drama. I want to harm something. Mostly myself. But there we sit. Huddled together, Pam and the rest want to get out of the dorms, I tell them I have a car. We make plans to pack and go. It takes about an hour, we meet up and sit down in the caf, all eyes are on them. Most of the school knows who his friends are, they saw the police question them. As we eat, they talk about getting away. Debrah is quiting school. Pam is thinking about it. Its not even an option for me. We all talk about who knew what,…”did he say something to you?” “did he want to?” “I thought he was happy” Pam decided to take the bus, it would have taken 2 more hours to get my car and she needs to be with family. I walk her and Glenda (mike called he Glenda bean, he was cool like that) to the train, we are all sticking together with someone. No one wants to see this happen again. Sigh… I call Daddybear, and he tells me to come to boston after I visit a school counselor. I sit in her office with Debbie, she goes in, I take the other open office. Mine tells me how NORMAL my feelings are. Tells me how a lot of kids feel angry, how its important to talk about it. How it’s OKAY. Funny, my friends dead, his body broken in some morgue, and I’ve been in a couple morgues, there is nothing NORMAL or OKAY about this. She doesn’t blink. I ask her about what happened. I figure that might have pieced it together. Mike left his room at about 1:21 am, after IMing all his friends to tell them he loves them. He went up to the 17th floor, and after drinking a two beers (not a lot for mike). He dropped his body off the roof. If I was in the dorms would I have been there to stop him? Would we have hung out? “you shouldn’t think like that” fuck you. I will think how I want to think. I want to think that I could have stopped it. That people can’t walk out of my life without me stopping them. But how many lives have I walked out of? I ask if there is anything else she wants me to know. She hands me pamphlets, and tells me to look out to see if any of my friends might attempt it. I get a little scared there. I’m terrified of it. I don’t want to feel this way again. EVER. I hang out with Debbie, her therapy was not much better. Still, I feel a little better, but not like it took the pain away, not that I expected it to. The worst was calling his mom. She was sobbing. I told her who I was,…”you don’t know, my name is joey, I am..er was a friend of your son’s “ She knew who I was, mike talked about me. “did you know? Wasn’t he happy?” I didn’t know, I thought he was, Wasn’t he? I want to sob, to tell her she’s a good mom… I couldn’t. I couldn’t I can’t I want to So I am up in boston now. Visiting Sirs. ..they won’t beat me. I want them to beat me. I want to sleep for days, I want to just pass out, not feel sad, I to bleed it all out. Shower it off. But I don’t want to forget him. Just forget this hurt, “so in the end it’s not just you, with your memories and your scars” i’m feeling better today though, just not good. I wish it was raining. Or snowing but it appears to be sunny. I miss you. you hurt me

Friday, February 20, 2004
 
DONT FUCKING KILL YOURSELF YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE
My friend flung himself from a 13th story window. I came back to the dorms this morning to find this out. my friends in shambles on the floor, and me suppressing my urge to punch a wall till my knuckles plead. I hate you right now mike, and i really miss that i don't have you around to yell at. you did this to them. And i'm sorry i could be there for you. Really sorry, now fix it. Someone. just fix it. Make me feel normal, let me cry with them. I don't want this. take it back. just please, take it back

Thursday, February 19, 2004
 
Muddled
Damn it. I just screwed up a speech. I got up in front of the class and began…then I choked. It was strange, I consider myself a confident person. And lord knows I talk enough. But…I got all flustered. I wrote out too much of my speech and I wanted to discuss things off topics. Ugh. Gag me with a spoon. My teacher informed me that I did okay, and there is no grade for it. He just wanted to see “where I am at.” Sigh…. Oh well, next time, I use flash cards. So, a couple of amazing things have happened recently. I have had the amazing luck of getting to chat with a man I shall be calling “Wise Old Owl” (thank you Special K for the nickname) or WOO for short. Wise Old Owl is an incredible person, I am not going to go into detail, but suffice to say, he is just super smart, really caring, and a great leather man. A couple weeks ago Special K gave me his E-mail because I wanted to ask a couple questions to him. I was assuming we would just e-mail, but he offered to call me! I am such a teenage girl with stuff like that. This is a man I have an incredible amount of respect for. So talking with him, I think every other word was something like “thank you, thank you.” But he cleared some things up for me. I’ve been worried about making my life more leather-centric. But he kind of pointed out (as everyone else has) I’m going to be into it for a while. So why be friends with people who make me feel bad about it? More over, the chat just kind of made me feel okay about all this. I would go into it with more specifics, but I want to preserve anonymity. He is SO FUCKING COOL! Sigh… But back to me slowly losing my mind… I haven’t left the dorms all week, My school is connected so that I don’t have to go outside. And since I am grounded. I haven’t. I want to cry, and beg. I want to call my Sirs, and beg on the phone. I don’t think it would work, so I am avoiding it (Sort of). But some big stuff has happened since my freeing decision. Me and Sue were watching TV yesterday. as we did so began explaining to me how she enjoyed the thought of Militant dykes controlling here life. The kid next door finding my copy of “Ties that bind” and asking to borrow it. My door mates watching the ninja turtle movie while wearing ninja masks made from their T-shirts Spelling “whore” on a scrabble board However, my main realization this week has been this: I haven’t given head to anyone in NYC for the past 3 weeks. OH MY GOD!!!!! That’s insane. That’s totally crazy. That’s not like me at all. So I have been concentrating on being good this week. Working very hard, not just because I love my Sirs and want to make them proud. But now, because I want to be a good boy, and good boys get to give head. Right? That’s a good boy credo I hope. “Good boys get to give head” Make a T-shirt, send me a check. Speaking of checks I got yelled at. And have decided to drop a policy of mine. For the most part I don’t (didn’t) let people pay for me. I tried that with coffee from the school cafeteria. This friend of mine used her card to pay for me, I objected. She shot me the look of death (the scowl). Sitting down she explained her feelings “When people pull that crap with me, it makes me feel like they don’t appreciate it. And I think that’s how most people feel like. I wanted to by you coffee, see you enjoy coffee, so get over it” I called her a Nazi, and sipped my coffee (it’s coffee, tasty sweet, caffeine soaked coffee) But she does make a valid point. To use Sir’s term it’s kind of “spoiled.” So I am going to give it. You wanna pay for me, go for it. With small things anyway I WANNA GO OUT!

Tuesday, February 17, 2004
 
More weekend thoughts and details.
A couple more things about the scene with my Sirs. I’ve been thinking about it, going over my emotions, trying to comprehend it. You know what I think it is? I think it’s about submission, and faith. I’d never been beaten by two men at once. When your getting hit by one guy, you can concentrate, and predict when you are going to be hit. Not that I am right all the time when that happens, but that ability to predict (feel it coming) gives me a sort of control. With the two of them…well, I couldn’t. Sir has told me often that I need to not tense up, and that I should try to experience it. So…I think that’s it. I wasn’t able to trust them and just experience it. But I also think it’s a lack of faith in me. As if I need to plan ahead otherwise I won’t act right. See, when I do S/m I am always kind of worried that my reactions aren’t appropriate. I want to dodge the shots, move away from the pain. When I am bound, I like to struggle and squirm. It just feels more real that way. But I worry…is that okay? Should I struggle less? Can I yell? Should I muffle my noise? Can I say “motherfucker” when it hurts a lot? Does it matter? In so many ways I am trying to live in the future. During the scenes I am just trying to get on to the good stuff, to when I alter myself a bit. I’m not really experiencing them the way I should be. I think that’s just it. I have no proof of this, so I will need to ask a friend. But I think when a person is a heavy masochist they experience each moment. As opposed for striving for the rush, they just exist in the scene in whole. They trust the Top to take them there, or they trust the Top to just take them. It’s not that I have not experienced a lot. I think I have. But I have not gone deeply before. And if I am going to toughen up, then I am going to have to trust. What I am doing now is sort getting on the train and thinking “I am going to go to Philadelphia!” Well, if you’re the bottom your thoughts should be more like “I am going to take a trip!” Then you let the conductor decide where you go. Mind you, my future living extends well beyond the scene. I frequently plan my life far ahead of myself. SO…my plan is to start trying to just experience things. Not group things as part of something greater, or plan them as a necessary thing. I am going to explore A before I think about B. At least that’s my hope today. Well, time to jerk off. Oh and it’s only Tuesday and I am already going stir crazy, I may wind up begging Sirs. OH! and my roomate is asleep, so i can't jerk off...hmmm....then i shall study.

 
Judge me!
I used to be a now it all. A now it all is a person who wants it all now. Fuck it. I’m still a now it all…and who doesn’t want it all now? Sigh…I’m avoiding writing, I just put some stuff in my Journal, I don’t like how it comes out. You see the problem with my journal is I write in ink, and my journal is paper. So I have to look at my bad hand writing, and atrocious spelling whenever I use it. But it’s also becoming a favorite thing of mine to do. I can zone, and doodle in it too! And then I close it, and seal away my private thoughts. Nifty! This trip I freaked out for part of it. I feel like shit about it. I was bound, blindfolded, naked, spread eagle face down on the bed. Sir and Daddybear start slow, paddling…They move onto spanking, and hitting my back. It’s going well. I’m breathing okay, and focused… But then there is wax poured on me… and I lose it. It was strange, I can’t really figure out why I lost it. But this intense fear snatched me up, and threw me around. I couldn’t breathe right. I was bucking against the bonds. Twisting myself up, and making myself worked up. It was just so strange, I have never done a scene where the two of them have beaten me. So, the experience was unique. Though they took me pretty far (I think it was like 45 minutes) my Sirs had to pull back a lot after the wax. I couldn’t trust them. And that really sucks. I want to believe that when it counts I can take hold of a good thing. And for the most part that has proven correct. But there are limits. I don’t trust easy, and I can’t put my faith in things just because I want to. It’s strange too, because there are things I joke about with them. Like this weekend I referenced getting a tattoo as a more hidden collar. It’s only been two months. I know they wouldn’t do that, so I can feel free to ask for it. I trust them not harm me. But…why the scene freak out? I mean it didn’t end the scene, we continued past it, but it certainly hampered it. I’m still analyzing it in my head, but I am at a loss for something to explain it. But that’s the strange part of all this. Sometimes I can’t explain something cuase I just don’t have the tools yet to explain it. If I had to choose; I would say it was just a moment of feeling completely out of control. I want to do it again though, asap. Some great things about the weekend: Watching TV, while laying my head on Sir’s chest: getting to feel okay about myself. Getting fucked by Daddybear almost everyday of my trip (3 times!) and Cumming without touching myself for two of them. Talking to my Sirs about things that I thought would end this experience, and having them tell me it wouldn’t Playing with someone that my Sirs trust and doing really well during play (I think/hope). Being able to go further with that person because my Sirs trust him. Kissing Sir and Daddybear cause I was good (mostly) Seeing the fabulous Vshaw and going through my highschool yearbook Experiencing mummification for two + Hours. A drunken call from Alli singing me a Valantines day lullaby. Hearing a song that explains me Watching Sir flog another boy, and not be jealous. Being able to appreciate what I am getting. Daddybear answering a question of mine without me having to ask it. The sheer genius that is golden girls. Hillary Duff’s new single (sell out). Knowing all my stuff for Depaul is in. Some not so good things: Freaking out during that scene. Worrying about my college future. Discovering that an old friend of mine is now in rehab (part of the yearbook review). Getting grounded for this week by my Sirs (I earned a lot points). The basic feeling that I have a long ways to go before I am going to feel confident in this. Not having the anal fortitude to take Daddybear a fourth time this weekend. Feeling like a puddle of emotions, and wondering if I am revert. Hearing my Sirs view on Conc. Missing my Sirs after only two hours (pathetic!). Getting a call from Specs and discovering that I still become giddy when that happens (Pathetic!) My inherent desire to Okay So I am in the dorms all this week (stir crazy!!!!!!!!) because I did some pretty stupid things, and made some errors. So my Sirs are grounding me (but I can masturbate, which is good, otherwise there would be murders, many murders). On the plus side, you people will get my many thoughts! Still, it’s funny how quickly this all worked for me. I care about them so much, its kind of scary to me. But leaving their apartment this morning I felt all mopey, like sad that I wouldn’t see them for 3 weeks. They are so pretty, and such nice souls. Sigh, I am such a school girl. I thought I was lost, but I was stranded .

Wednesday, February 11, 2004
 
My reasons for wanting to be permanantly collared
This is the stuff i omited from that section of my blog. I want the permanent collar because I don’t want to feel like I’m exploring leather alone anymore. Because I don’t want keep going from experience to experience without learning something. Because I can’t submit to strangers. Because I feel something genuine with Both of YOU and because I want to submit and please you both, it brings me a joy I haven’t found elsewhere

 
Head in my space
Why can’t I just fix my dilemmas? Why can’t I just remove the feelings I don’t want? and why can’t I just do the things feel good, with out feeling bad? My psychologist (5-6 months ago) told me that I was person who matured quickly. She went onto add; “in most areas.” But she didn’t mean that I matured quickly for my age, she meant that over the past couple years I had gone through a lot. I’m getting that now. I finally understand the warnings, the hints, and a lot of how others worry about me. Last night I woke up at 2am. Reaching for my collar almost immediately. It wasn’t around my neck, I had forgotten to sleep with it on cause I had taken it off around the dorms. But…there I was for a moment, collarless, and a little scared. I got out of bed, kneeled down and put it back on. I fell asleep almost immediately. It’s just weird, I want it both ways don’t I? I want to have this safe feeling without the alienation that “I have to go bed at 1am” or “I have to make a call before we go out” causes. But then…some days, I don’t give a shit about it. Not the collar, or what it means…but about what this responsibility does for me. Some days I think, fuck them. But it never lasts. Tonight me and an acquaintance were heading off to LAW 101, and I kneeled down take my collar off. His eyebrows raised, as he rolled his eyes. He never commented on it, but that says more about it than asking. He doesn’t want to know. He’s a queer youth, and to them the leather folks are evil. A cheap con to get them tied up by old men (he’s explained this theory to me, we are working on it). But what about it makes me want to stick with it? Why, inspite of my feeling like I want to run again do I want to keep up with it? Why has flossing become a part of my daily routine? Truth is…I’m better, I feel it, people see it. My friends can tell…Tim told me that I feel more real to him now. S/m translates. But none of my friends now why exactly, I have mentors in Boston. No…that’s not true. A lot of my friends know why exactly, just none of. Sue and Mia (see satan letters) know, they know what it means to me. The approve, but don’t encourage. But I keep forgetting that I have leather friends, that I know people who live this lifestyle. That they encourage, that they are proud, that they care. It’s kind of sad, I need to stop discounting their worth to me. I need to remember that i am not on the path that the other kids take, and that I am 10 percent of ten percent, of 50 percent (the estimate is that 10 percent of people are gay, 10 percent of that population has done kink, 50 percent of THAT population does it on a regular basis). There are no peers. There are no equals. Conc likes to be flogged, but even he wants a boyfriend. He doesn’t find transcendence in it. It’s a thrill for him, not a craving. More over, that desire to submit isn’t present with him (or I may not be trained to see it). Up past my bedtime. Logged out of aim and online. Need to type…. I need to stop trying to compare myself for them. Yes, FOR them. It doesn’t help me. I won’t gain their acceptance for that part of my life. It’s true what they write in all those S/m books, what Sir and Daddybear mention about society and submission. All my business classes talk about aggressiveness, my economics instructor mentions how we will become the upper crust of management if we pay attention. The measure of your worth is by the number of resources you control. So what does that say about a boy who wants to be controlled? Am I some kind of dysfunctional youth, lashing out at society for wanting me to be controlling? No. I want it, I crave it. I didn’t skip a class today on hope that Sir and Daddybear will fuck me this weekend (I plan to enema myself pre getting on bus, which may prove difficult in a dorm bathroom, but there is a lock…). But desiring the approval of my Sirs doesn’t negate the truth that I want the approval of society. I’m not ready to give up the white picket fence dream. Woah… Shit. It’s all just so fucked up. And I hate that I just had this thought. Do I like them more because they live in boston? Does it work for me because they are to far to influence my daily life? I don’t think so…but isn’t it possible? It is. And yet…it doesn’t feel likely, it doesn’t even feel possible. They are special. I have read the contract over enough times to know that. And I’ve been around long enough to know that most want cheap and easy sex. But what’s befuddling is the realization that I may not be one of those people. I mean, read the blog. But with their domination comes a lot of freedom. I’ve spent a lot more nights in the dorm studying, but also bonding, I can afford too, I’m going to get what I crave if I’m a good boy. Mind you it has only been three weeks of classes...and I’m jumping ahead I suppose. But there are two things that are in my head. my Sirs, expressed concerns about my college hunt…he is also worried that I don’t want them to be a part of it…and yet I don’t seem to be making efforts to really research the schools so much as I am just looking at the surface (the last part is my own thinking…but I think it’s something Sir has noticed). Truth is…I bottle up my emotions because I can’t predict them. I can’t control them. I’ve been avoiding the college talk with Sirs because I have never had this discussion with anyone before. They matter, their opinion matters, hell it will change mine (they present arguments well). But they also would be looking out for me. I know that. And maybe that’s why their opinion scares me. I am surprisingly willing to fuck up my own life. The people I sleep with are far less willing to let me. But tonight… Sir asked why I wanted the permanent collar, what my reason was… I didn’t have an immediate answer…so I began to blog…hoping to find a quick answer for it. I don’t have a quick one. But I do have a long one ----after reading this all over, I have decided to wait to post this, I want my Sirs to read it first, and then I will ask them if I can post it, which is not my normal policy, but I can change that as I damn well please---- Man this is getting heavy…I am going to use the journal my Sirs gave me, I need to keep these private at the moment I think, but I will do that tomorrow, I have a schedule to keep and a sleep to get. I know what I want…but am I ready? I think so…but every time I think I am, I run into things I didn’t expect. I’m going to let my Sirs decide what I’m ready for. The act has become the art of growing up. To understand why the following phrases are grood: “when you fall in a bottomless pit you die of starvation” and “CEREBELLUM!” and “it’s over!” http://www.homestarrunner.com/tgsmenu.html “I HAVE A CRUSH ON EVERY BOY!”

Sunday, February 08, 2004
 
Oh yeah
I didn't call my Sirs drunkenly....is that a good thing? or bad? they told me to call when i felt like it...but drunk calls are things your not supposed to do...and i have points already i really don't want to earn any more. I think i made the right choice... right?

 
Thinking is hard
That’s the truth, any kind of examination is hard. Like tonight I saw a friend of mine in a light I didn’t like. While another of my friends saw me in one she loved. We have to figure out what it is we want. There is so much in my head I want to get out…but I got drunk and the desire to sleep is hard to resist. I want a tattoo. Something small. But something. I nearly got one tonight (long story), but I thought about calling my Sirs, and asking (in a slurred “I’m drunk” sort of way) and hearing them say no pretty quickly. So I skipped that. I don’t like drinking, I don’t like me drunk, I don’t like my friends drunk. We revert. We become these childlike versions of ourselves. “I want to fuck” replaces “I need to get laid”, “school sucks” replaces “I have to study hard tomorrow.” I like intellect, I like conversations, I like hearing those things. I don’t like dumbed down versions of people I want to get to know. And I especially don’t like dumbed down me. I have a quick mouth…sober, and a quicker, louder, one when drunk. It’s never insulting, (well…) but it’s not nice. I don’t pick fights, but I don’t make friends with it. Tonight I yelled at some kid who has always irked me. He’s moppy. I hate mopey. His life is bad because he “has to” do everything. It’s so fucked up. Please yourself. Then please others, it’s the only way. Otherwise you wind up bitter at people who just don’t get that you don’t want do things. Meanwhile I thought about this guy I played with back when I was 17. He was a former slave who was becoming a Sir. I played with him 3 times (a record for me at the time). He tied me up with ties, put on a game, and spanked me during the commercials. Occasionally he let me give him head. Then he would jerk me off till I came, and freaked out a bit (at 17 I was prone to “oh my god, what have I done…again” syndrome), then I left. The third time he told me he wanted to go longer next time, hold me after. I declined and never spoke to him again. But now the same thing has happened with Sirs. To a larger extent, but the same idea. Except this time I said yes, and gave into my desires. Letting them get close isn’t going to be easy. They are close already, but I still tense up sometimes, want to ignore my past. I mean, I get hurt so easily it feels like sometimes. I worry about that I think. When this ends…they have each other. But there is SOOOOOO much to learn, and so much gain. I just wish I could gain that all with out this feeling inside me. I miss them, it’s been a week, and I miss them. I feel so fucked up at times like these. I’m not lonely, I’m not alone, but….i miss them. Sigh…I hate my emotions sometimes. Why couldn’t my body just put that feeling off for like two days? So much to write. Soooo sleepy.

 
Fuck you!
Couple of hateful things to get off my chest: Fuck you Metrosexual closeted homo. No one buys the bullshit about your girlfriend. And on a more personal note, when you get drunk and try to kiss women, it’s very un-appealing. And your “Brooklyn Industries” sweater, is no longer in vogue, so please don’t pretend that you dress well. Fuck you Conc’s “boyfriend.” Get over your issues and don’t make my friends feel like crap just because you have them. Deal. More over don’t create drama on a night that’s important to him, it’s a total dick move. So last night was good, and bad, mostly good though. But I needed to spew that hate out. Anyway, Some good things have happened: Sir wrote me an e-mail (always good, they tend to be really thoughtful and cool), It basically said: we don’t want you to be alienated, nor do we want the collar to be a symbol of that. He also wrote that what we shared (Sir, Daddybear, and i) was private, and that he didn’t want me wearing the collar to class, but that he and Daddybear would talk to each other about a more discrete way of having something to hold onto when I need that feeling the collar gives me (or rub depending on what it is...) So he was disappointed in the dorm people, not me. And that makes for a very happy boy. So…last night I sent Girlfag my old messages that I had been sending to Specs when he and I were playing. Her insights tend to be many and very well worth it, So I thought I would send them to her. I am going to use the Journal Sir and Daddybear got me…I am using the pen in it though. Cutting magazine clippings, drawing in it, it’s sort of short entries, but they are specific. After sending GF the note, and reading Sirs e-mail I headed out with Conc and his BoyF and his friends from montreal, and a friend of his from film class. Conc wanted me to meet his friends, but mostly I was there to get to know his boyfriend (or potential Boyfriend, P.B.F.). He didn’t like me. Which is fine, I get jealousy, I don’t feel jealous normally but I do on occasion (read back over some MAL and such), but I understand when other people do. I played with Conc, so his PBF was a little irked that we still hang out. Whatever. Talk it over in private, grit your teeth and smile. Carry on the conversation. But what you shouldn’t do is make a big deal there. Sit back, watch the interaction. Then talk it over when the party is done. It’s just so upsetting to see Conc have to grit his teeth and chat when he wanted to be having fun. Tony’s other friends were cool, I came late so we only hung out en mass for about and hour. Then it was just Conc, me and a 16y/o montrealer. We headed over to a gay bar I knew in the area (the 16y/o is straight, but he wanted to drink and I was unsure of the straight bars in the area). So we went to the boiler room. I like the boiler room on Fridays. Mostly because I like making out with the bartender. He and I just sort of slip from buying drinks to tongue in mouth easily. He and I may see each other on Sunday at the eagle’s beer bust or whatever it’s called. Wish I could cum, but I have to be a better boy to get that. So…in the meantime kissing strangers is fun (and worth it!). So Sunday I should have more stories. Meanwhile I am chatting with some folks online, and have some meets planned, but I am holding off on play cause I want to be fresh for my Sirs come the 4 day weekend next week. I’ve got Math, law 101, and eco homework I want to get done so this week will be more work based than anything else. But tonight and Sunday should be me licking various bodies. I’m SO HORNY that I need to blow off that steam. The weird thought that occurred yesterday is something that my Sirs told me: You can have a boyfriend and have Sirs. In normal relationships, no matter how open, having dinner with someone else, dating someone else is cheating I think. If I started doing that with while I was with my Sirs. It would be okay. And although it’s not the platter at the moment, dinners always nice. But I would need to be pounded afterwards. Oh! And I think I can make omlettes, so there is something to look forward to, “would you like onions, or tomatoes on your omelet Daddybear? And you Sir?” Yeah, like Girlfag wrote me: Don’t just dream it, be it. Now where is my orgy in the pool?

Friday, February 06, 2004
 
Or maybe...
Or maybe i am dilusional. Just projecting my own worries about the collar onto other people. i'm wearing it tommorow. Fuck the dorm people. They don't give me head, they don't spank well, they don't tell me i make them proud (Sir told me i pleased him today cuase i completed a task). Still a less noticable collar might be nice sometimes, but i can deal. the life of a boy isn't easy, but i think it's worth it. Well, it's worth it with my Sirs. :)

 
drip drop
I took the collar off today, not cause I am done with my Sirs or nothing. Just that the dorm folk were (are) a little iffy about me. It’s strange, even having it off I got a lot friendlier talks, better looks. I would love to comment on how this is some kind of indication about people. Or how it sucks that people are so shallow…But then I think…they’re teens. What the hell do you expect? Remember high schooll, well they were there last year. And as much as S/m is discussed in popular media. The persistent idea is that it’s for freaks. Sigh….you don’t go to business school to make friends, you do it to make connections. And I have people who know what the collar means, accept why I wear it. But…they don’t embrace it. I feel like I am on the cusp of all this stuff, dancing around the edge of the pool. Deciding to sunbath with my cronies or get wet the way I want to. It’s pathetic. Wear the collar, get over the people who judge you. That’s the advice right? Well, I can’t. I like being invited to the cool parties, I like hanging out with the popular kids. I like the Abercrombie Kids. Meanwile I miss it. It’s been gone for like 5 hours max and I miss it. I wish I had a smaller one, something that was underneath it. Or a tattoo!!! That would be cool, like a temporary one, cause scarring my flesh after a month is insane. Though a little star somewhere might be cool. Anyway, I told Sir, and he told me he was disappointed. That sucked. It brought me down. I already felt bad about doing it. But hearing him say it just sucked… I want to be a person who that stuff doesn’t phase, who can just wear the fucking collar. But it does, it affects me. I guess it affects me because I judge people like that too. And I probably shouldn’t. truth is, I’m lonely for understanding. I should probably start hanging around with people who embrace the collar, and the meaning behind it, move beyond the childish desire to just hang with the cool group, and hang out with the group that with accept me for who I am. But that requires me to accept me for who I am. And that hasn’t come just yet. So for now I dance around the edge. I’ll get a little sun, and make sure my knees are wet. But I’m gonna cannonball soon. Just not sure who will be looking when I do. Oh! And there is this guy online I am chatting with, He gets back to the city on the 17th, so I can plan a punching scene. I have not been as sluty with the locals this semester, and perhaps that is part of the reason that I am obsessing over all this (fucked up, no?). Though I am not allowed to cum at the moment so the point is moot, I need to make some decisions. Splash me, I want to be wet.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004
 
one more thing
I miss talking to G*d. which sounds weird but, i miss that belief in him. G*d was my imaginary friend when i was little. I wonder if he will be now. :)

 
Rain drop and roses
I moved today… Ugh, I am now 9 floors higher, which I a floor that has like 30 more people than mine. It’s insane. Something odd happened tonight. I was invited out to this milk bar in the village. There was this feature of people hanging off hooks from the ceiling. That is…using their skin to hang from the ceiling. I hadn’t finished studying (3 hours a night) So I called my Sirs. They said no… I complied. But…I found myself hard. I love being a weirdo. Now if only I hadn’t screwed up and lost the privilege of masturbating. I moved today… Ugh, I am now 9 floors higher, which I a floor that has like 30 more people than mine. It’s insane. Something odd happened tonight. I was invited out to this milk bar in the village. There was this feature of people hanging off hooks from the ceiling. That is…using their skin to hang from the ceiling. I hadn’t finished studying (3 hours a night) So I called my Sirs. They said no… I complied. But…I found myself hard. I love being a weirdo. Now if only I hadn’t screwed up and lost the privilege of masturbating.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004
 
Head Sir.
Sigh… I think I love my Sirs. I use I think because it feels like I imagine it should be. But this all may just be a crush. Its tough to think that. But I know me. I slept on a cot this past visit. Next to my Sirs bed, its part of re-enforcing the boy mentality (and my place). I didn’t think I would sleep as well as I did. It also worked. Not that I woke up each day with the desire to do nothing but submit. But when you wake up to two hot men looking down at you (over you?) you get the picture. This past week I screwed up a bunch, forgot to turn in some assignments (barely got in a couple others on time) for my Sirs. I was online past my bedtime. I forgot to call when I fooled around with Hoss (it was fun, not worth upsetting my Sirs, but fun, definitely good to meet his flesh though). And I forgot to wear boots when I visited them. Sigh… No kisses from Sir this weekend. But! Daddybear kissed me a couple of times!!! Still, I’m a want it all kind of guy, even if I didn’t deserve them. It was all pretty similar to my other visits with my Sirs. But I can feel this new presence in my thoughts. I’m calling him the headSir. It’s the weird presence in my head reminding me not to ask a certain question (like: “can cum despite you telling me no 5 minutes ago?”), or reminding me to breath during a scene, sometimes he tells me to concentrate, other times he reminds where to stand. I think all submissives build a mental Sir. He may be situational, or possibly placed when you need it. Tonight I did homework with the television off (gasp). It’s not that HeadSir really tells me to do anything, Sir and Daddybear have those rules. HeadSir just exists to list them. I’m beginning to feel more comfortable in my submission to Sir and Daddybear though. (I am past my bed time. Need to finish this and sleep) I confessed my love feeling. It was not returned in word form. Which…I am ambivalent to at the moment. Not that I don’t want to hear it, but I don’t need it. Just saying my feelings aloud felt freeing. Though I am upset with myself for feeling that way so quickly. I would like to think I have stronger defenses than that. All and all the weekend was great. We went out (Boston is lacking in the nightlife department), we played (I took a flogging pretty well), I got fucked while wearing my tennis shoes (now lets start and Abercrombie fetish). Plus! I discovered my inner fetish. It’s skin. I need it. People have often described their fetishes (leather, rubber, latex) as being a second skin to them. Well…I like the first one. All skin is different, texture, taste, look, scent. Daddybear has this musk to it, this roughness that lasts on my tongue. While licking Sir is like laping at salt water, smooth, solid. Their skin also tells a story, the stretch marks, the scars, the blemishes, the minor imperfections that make it theirs. I think it’s why I generally don’t care what a man wears when he flogs me. Or why I find those full body suits so strange, I don’t like the presence of leather pressed against my flesh when I am held post scene. I like being able to run my hands over the body parts that my tongue has been, be able to feel it with fingers. It’s just so erotic for me. Not that presentation doesn’t do anything for me, don’t answer the door in an oversized “Garfield” shirt (bad vanilla online hookup). But if the outfits suits you, and you look good in it, I’ll bite, just let me see a little skin. Of course, a taste of the neck helps, especially if it tastes right. Not that there weren’t some off parts to the weekend. The cot was nice, I miss the bed though. I like laying next to Daddybear when I sleep, able to reach over and grab Sir I missed that. I’m also still not as open as I want to be with them. You know? Like I want to just lay all the cards on the table, spill my guts, pry open my mind and just let it bleed out. I can’t. Sometimes I can’t find the words, other times I find the wrong ones. It’s so frustrating. But all that is fine, just a matter of waiting it out slowing down, trusting (I’m trying, that’s taking time too). But there is one image that sticks in my head. Sir and Daddybear moving their bed over to make way for the cot in their bedroom. It speaks of the over way that this works. And a reminder of how new it all is, for them and me. And yet there is this part of me I can’t squash. This voice in my head that tells me to keep my guard up, it’s at odds with HeadSir. HeadSir wants them close, the voice reminds me “not too close.” Sir asked me this weekend “your not used to people having patience, are you?” at first I thought he meant in general. But he explained (at least my understanding was) that he meant in terms of getting to know me, get close to me. I guess I don’t, but I also didn’t have patience with other people. And maybe I still don’t. My mind keeps drifting back to MAL, to how bad I felt. Not angry, not upset, just bad, in pain. I don’t feel that way now, and don’t see it happening again anytime soon…but I remember it. And yet, this weekend reminds me that they do care for me, and they do take care of me. Even in the short time I have known them. So why is that knowledge the scariest of all? And why can’t I just enjoy the ride with out wondering how it will end? If life’s a scene, I need to work on my breathing. But thinking about the end (far future date in my mind at this point), I always think about the things I would miss. Like when I think about going to DePaul, or Bentley, I think about what I would miss about Pace and what I would miss about Manhattan. I think the thing I would miss most ( and please forgive the sap) is having a safe place to explore it all. You see when you go tricking in S/m, you wind up with very few treats. If a scene goes bad, if you can’t take a lot, if you want to try something new…there is no net. Just a new man, with a new pain implement, new rope, and a new theory as to what you are. All of them close, none of them right. But I will be back, because I want to go back. And I will submit, because I want to submit. And I will obey, because I want to obey. And I will be good, because I want them to tell my I am good, their good boy. I am a boy, I like to be held, and told I helped, told that I did good (or at least okay), so long as it’s honest. I did a good job cooking chicken too…so there is that. And it’s weird how much pleasure I get out of it. But it was nice to think “wow, I did that.” Even though I got some help for Sir and Daddybear, I did most of it. Hmmm…I didn’t think about any of that when I was with Sir and Daddybear…well some of it I did and brought up with Sirs. Sleep beckons. Oh…and while I was away…Conc had un-protected anal-sex. I want to hurt him, but I think he doesn’t need that. 2 weeks and we get the test. It should be negative. I am not worried, not about this time. But…it won’t be the last time he has sex…so the possibilities are endless. Worry, pray, and try to prevent them. I have dinner with him on Wednesday. I need to sleep. Jeez it’s 2:19. I got on a roll here. Time to shut off the lights and dream a bit “We think about you more than you realize”


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