Two days ago I wrote a new short story, a transformational tale which anybody who’s read my previous blogs will recognize because basically I took some recent events in my life and turned them into a slice-of-life work of fantasy.
If you want to read it (and I hope you do) you can find it at: "An Untangling of Threads"
Yes, it’s not the longest story in the world, nor the most complex. But I had fun with it. I stayed up late and wrote it in one setting, and I’m rather pleased with it for what it is, no more and no less.
The pleasure I got from writing that makes me feel I truly need to get back to working on my novel. My dearly departed novel. For almost two years I worked religiously on it, and reached the final few chapters before … running out of steam. Well, that’s not the best description for what happened. In truth, I became distracted. After a year and a half absence, I rediscovered SecondLife. After my divorce in March of last year, I soon became more and more addicted to SecondLife, to the exclusion of my novel (and other pursuits). The death blow for my novel was when I was laid off in May of last year, and I sunk into a clinical depression which I’m only now finally clawing out of, almost a year and a half later. When that happened, my addiction to SecondLife became complete, and for almost a year it truly became my life, my escape from a reality I couldn’t emotionally face.
SecondLife is truly like a drug. I got into SecondLife because I couldn’t face reality. And because SecondLife seems so wonderful, it makes the real world seem awful by comparison. Well, it does when you’re addicted, when you find the real world to be one that you hate, and you lie awake at night wishing you were dead. That’s how I was back then. Fortunately, I’m much better now.
Still, though, even though I’m not addicted to SecondLife anymore, I’ve moved on. I’m a much different person because of what I’ve experienced. A year and a half ago I was planning on marrying a wonderful man in Kentucky who is half my age. Now I’m Owned by a Mistress with no plans to change my situation. That man I loved (and still love deeply) was a writer and was my editor, and he still desires to be that should I ever pick my novel back up.
Lately, though, I simply haven’t had time. No, of course, that’s not true. I simply haven’t made the novel a priority. Even as a slave, I’m sure I could write it, because my Mistress knows of it and would most likely approve.
I could have written in it tonight if not for SecondLife, of course. *sighs*
Yeah. I was in SecondLife tonight. I feel like I just finished a weird little vacation.
Mistress is out tonight with a female friend, attending a BDSM mixer “munch” in Longmont. Mistress’s Master will likely be there, so she gave me the full choice of whether I wanted to go or stay here and simply enjoy myself doing whatever I wanted.
If she had been alone, I would have gone with her, but I sensed she wanted to be with her female friend, and so … I stayed at home and undertook the guilty pleasure known as SecondLife.
*shrugs*
It’s not as intense as it used to be. But then, I was only in it for a few hours tonight, and I used to live in SecondLife for usually eight to twelve hours a day, every day.
I feel a bit tired and mentally exhausted, and I have a slight headache. I think I’ve gotten mentally out of shape in able to live in a virtual world for long periods of time.
Tonight I was a puppet – a marionette – like I have been the last few times I’ve been in SecondLife. I interacted with people on Doll Island, Doll Works and a store named “Dirty Dollies,” but the roleplaying wasn’t deep. Instead, it was like we were at a costume party, and all of us were having fun interacting with each other.
In contrast, when I would roleplay in Gor, I felt like I was really there, because the roleplaying was psychologically overwhelming at times.
Looking back, I find it amazing that I spent three hours in there tonight because so little happened. I chatted with people here and there and played a bit and talked about music, all while pretending to be a marionette. I had some fun with K-8 (the author of the blog at consciousobject.livejournal.com), and this time I was a bit more eloquent.
*shrugs again*
I did, however, get the chance to pass out a few copies of my new story.
So far nobody on www.stuckposting.com has commented at all on my story. Actually, they haven’t commented on anything I’ve written there. Oh, well.
Along with writing the story, most of my time the two days before today were taken up with moving. And, yes, we’re still not done yet. Not only are there still a lot of little (and not so little) things at the old house, but the new place is full of boxes stacked up on top of each other, and it still definitely needs a lot of work to become a normal house. I simply cannot imagine us moving again anytime soon at all.
Today was the day I spent with my kids. It went decently well. I hardly saw my son at all. He wanted to spend the day with a friend and not with me, and when he returned tonight, he didn’t want to talk to me. Something’s bothering him and I don’t yet know what it is, but I think it has something to do with the divorce.
When my ex and I divorced last year, we had stipulated joint custody in the agreement, with the kids being at my place and my ex’s place every other day. But the first night at my place, the kids wanted to go back home, and we let them. My ex got to keep the house, and to two young children, my apartment must have been a scary place. Well, they soon got used to it because my ex made it clear that we weren’t going to “traumatize” the kids by forcing them to do something upsetting to them regarding the divorce. Being so submissive, I gave in. Then I started falling into the clinical depression, the first serious signs hitting even before I was laid off, and my ex and I decided that the children should stay at their old place most of the time because my emotional condition wasn’t best for them. I gave in and … it became the norm. During this last summer I was seeing my kids almost every other day, but they haven’t slept under the same roof with me since my divorce a year and a half ago. As things are now, because of all that’s going on (particularly with the move), during the last month I’ve usually only seen my kids one day a week, and only for around eight hours each of those days, more or less. My ex sometimes complains about having the kids too much, but all-in-all I think my ex wants the kids to get used to me not being around. I should be fighting it but … I don’t know how. Part of me agrees because I’m still mentally unstable. But I miss my kids so much some times I can’t stop crying.
I’m not the only slave in this situation. I know of another slave in the Denver area a little younger than I am who only sees her children about once a month. I don’t know her situation, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s sadly similar.
Well, today was a lot of fun with my seven-year-old daughter, at least. We went to the annual Pumpkin Festival at Four Mile Historic Park in Denver, which celebrates life in Colorado’s pioneer days. I dressed up in my pseudo-Old-West clothes (tall boots, a long brown dress, a white button-up blouse and a tan frilled shawl), and I had expected my daughter to do the same because she also loves Old West stuff, but instead she went as a cat – which for her meant wearing a great sweatsuit with a nametag she made that says she’s a member of the “council of cats”. She was, naturally, adorable the whole time. *smiles* We rode on a really bumpy ride in a covered wagon, and ate sugar cookies from a wood-burning stove, and talked with fur trappers (*sighs and grumbles*), and drank root beer, and listened to silly music, and played with antique toys, and I learned to walk on stilts and my daughter was in a sack race and a “carry-the-egg-in-the-spoon” race, and (my daughter’s favorite part) we panned for gold using real equipment, and I taught her (and a bunch of other kids there) techniques an actual gold panner taught me years ago, and my daughter brought home several large chunks of (fool’s) gold at the end of the day! So even though I don’t see my kids a lot, at least I try to make my time with them as good as possible.
Well, Mistress just came back, so I’d better get this logged and get to bed. We’re going over tomorrow morning to play with two of her submissive friends, and even though I may not be playing that much, I need to get some sleep.
Oh … I was going to talk about the fact that the married couple came over again the day before yesterday with Mistress’s Master, and they all did things I’m not privy to inside of Mistress’s bedroom. I do know Mistress’s was forced to suck her Master’s cock in front of the couple as his way of showing off his property to them.
And I know that I had to give Mistress an enema before the couple arrived. Which brings up a rather gross topic I was going to cover in this entry, but I’ll save it for next time.
Until then, toodles!
La kajira!!!
p.s. With any luck, as I try to sleep I won’t be thinking tonight about a disturbing short story I read online tonight about an intelligent woman who is gradually turned into an ultra-horny imbecile with a body so super feminine it’s a pure caricature. The woman hates what’s happening because she has a family and friends and is a college swimmer, but it’s done purely because of the psychopathic desires of a crazed woman who traps her into the process. I know some people really get turned on by such stories, and I have to admit that I’m turned on, but in a way that’s very disturbing and may possibly give me nightmares tonight.
I can’t read a story and think “it’s just a story.” To me, fiction and reality often blur in my mind, at least in my emotional responses. But then, I admit I’m not the most emotionally healthy woman on the planet.
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