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The Christmas Holiday Season of 2012 will wind up being looked back upon as the week I indulged myself in Les Miserables.

I adore a brilliant musical.  In my late 30's, I found myself myself encouraged by "Defying Gravity" (Wicked).  Music can resonate and bring things to the surface that may have been easier to just let lay dormant for a long time.

It doesn't hurt that I have a slight girl crush on Helena Bonham Carter, either. ;-)

But, those things aside, had there not been some additional message needed, I probably would have seen it once, been moved by the performances and been on my way.

Trancendence.  The ability to move beyond what is known.  To know a boundary is to also know what binds it and what you believe lies beyond it.  Self trancendence is to go beyond a prior state or form of oneself.  There is hardly a character that does not find themself in this personal battle in Les Mis: most evidently Jean Valjean.  His conversion is the cornerstone of the novel beginning with the Bishop and the ripple effect it has on everyone in his life.  His anti thesis, Javert, meets with the same moment of conversion due to Valjean's mercy and leaps to his death into the Seine unable to find redemption any other way.

Pay attention to Jean Valjean.  There is a deep reason he consistently asks himself "who am I?"  Prisoner 24601?  Jean Valjean constantly grounds himself when confronted with choices.  His deepest moments of turmoil are when he sees himself as a victim and mercy is what lifts him beyond it as his mercy in turn does the same for most every other character. 

Pay attention to the theme of service.  The Bishop who serves him without question despite Valjean being a fugitive.  Valjean is of service to Fantine, to her daughter Cosette, to his future son in law, Marius, to the city of Montreil-Sur Mer and most deeply, to God.  The most famous of lines is spoken last: "to love another person is to see the face of God."  How entwined are love and service?

Pay attention to the theme of choices for every character is confronted with them.  Without Valjean even considering "is there another way to go?" there would be no story had he not chosen to rewrite it himself.  Valjean chooses not to allow an innocent man to be enslaved; he recognizes he would only damn himself in doing so.  Eponine's choice of taking the bullet for her beloved, saving his life and costing her own.  Ultimately Javert sees his choice in terms of himself and the man he has spent his life hunting "it is either Valjean or Javert!"  Choose.  Rise above what you see and believe or be damned.

"Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?"  Because tomorrow does come, no matter what you've chosen to shelter yourself behind.  It is a fight to get beyond it.  It takes an immense amount of strength.

Blessed 2013.  Go see it if only to chuckle your way through Master of the House. :-)

Emotional Enslavement.  Emotional Bondage.

Physical bondage requires nothing more than a form of restraint.  The variety of which is limited only by imagination.  Anyone can confine another person physically.

Confining them emotionally is a skill.  It requires complete transparency from both parties because it is virtually impossible to give your power over to someone you do not know inside and out.  You will not invest the trust needed for that emotional dependency to take hold.  You will never discover just how truly vulnerable you can be without it.

Physical bondage will leave you physically vulnerable.  Mental bondage will make you feel that emotional vulnerability acutely.  You will fear it till you absolutely bask in it.  Most submissives and slaves have built walls that hide the deepest parts of themselves.  When someone recognizes those walls...and you have truly given them permission to go beyond them? To push past those limits despite the reactance that will occur?  To assure them that there is no doubt that those areas will be exposed and those emotions will not cause rejection?  Those are the places that will let you know me better than I know myself.  Those are the places you need to possess. 

You would think driving in the heart of the city during the holidays would be a pleasant experience.  After all, people travel all over the world just to see Manhattan during the Christmas season, right?  It is beautiful, no doubt about it, but I've never felt so small as I did driving down 5th Avenue.  Too small.  The star decorations appear to float in between the vast space of the street and stores aren't merely decorated, they're encrusted in sparkles.  The enormity, the wattage, the importance of concentrating on driving when everything around you screams not to be tuned out.  Like someone adjusted the normal scale of things: disconcerting.

Pull over.  Switch gears.

I met up with a friend near Washington Square Park.  By this point, it was a strain to concentrate, I had been focusing for hours.  More driving, more navigating. Faulty GPS directions, wrong turns and nerves.  My mind was tired.  The best thing to do at this point would be to just listen and do, but I don't.  I make judgement calls.  I can remember earnestly asking in the past "please don't teach me not to think, don't punish me for thinking when I'm still trying to achieve the same goal: pleasing you."  But that is the point on one side of the coin, I wonder if it's really what I'm asking for on mine.  Do I want a little leeway to be creative?  Sometimes.  Am I asking to be put in my place?  Sometimes.  Am I testing you to see if you're paying attention?  Damned sprite, does things without me fully realizing it till it's too late.  I think that's why I smile while I'm doing it because there's a part of me yelling inside at the same time that I have to account for those sudden appearances.   Am I looking for discipline?  As uncomfortable a position it is at the time it's an odd feeling of relief, too.  Not an instant one either.

Eventually we reached our destination, intact.

Inside, I'm cheering that I'm finally allowed to park the car.  The first beer went down so quickly I hardly tasted it.  I am far too accustomed to only needing to answer affirmatively that I have a hard time remembering how to answer this person respectfully and was told to put my nose to the wall.  There's a brief flash of what are people around me going to think followed by me closing my eyes and weirdly enough, the relief wins out over caring.

Next, I'm asked to sit, legs apart when facing this person.  I feel somewhat like I'm behaving like I'm on a sit and spin (70's children!) and while it's a minor request, I'm wearing slacks, it is a very subtle and vulnerable position after a while. 

Mentor is a good way to refer to this person, whether he likes that or not.  It's rather like putting yellow and blue paint on the same plate and telling it not to make green.  Even if you don't mix the two, there's going to be some green going when they interact.  I wind up learning a lot.  I learn what I am...and more importantly what I'm not.  I know I thrive when I'm allowed space to be creative but I also realize, I'm just not there yet.  I'm still emotionally enslaved to someone else and the fact that I'm going to resist discussing why will probably wind up being my next writing assignment.

I've been asked this question a few times this week.  I'm hypoglycemic, not diabetic.  I've been maintaining and managing my blood sugar more than half my life.  As they say around here, I'm an "expert". 

As for how it relates to my other qualities...well, I am far more in control of my emotions when my blood sugar is steady and erratic when it's not.  Since I prefer feeling in control in this context, I tend to be very aware of what I eat and rarely stray.

I've often wondered about this constant level of internal awareness that essentially guides me all day long.  I wonder if other people keenly monitor themselves this way or am I just so used to having to do it that it's second nature to me now.  Very early on, I would mess up, eating too little, not frequently enough or worse, giving in to all the sugar cravings completely.  Paying poor attention to my own signals, I'd wind up passing out.  Over the years, I suppose I've trained my mind to give me "status updates" on how I'm feeling on a very regular basis; it's the only way to gauge it without drawing blood.  

But on some level, I do think it relates.  I have a very ingrained habit of being honest with myself because lying will just put me on face level with a linoleum floor pretty quickly.  In turn, I'm just as straightforward with anyone else.

I have felt off kilter all weekend.

Procrastinating nearly everything and that is NOT like me.  I've managed only brief amounts of focus only to be distracted into something else.  In turn I am getting only little bits accomplished of everything and no sense of achievement.

Thanksgiving required a lot of holding it together under dramatic pressure.  Since it has been over, I have literally been sharing my focus with three or four things at the same time.  At first, I thought it was my sugar levels which were off on Friday due to the holiday desserts.  But it has continued clear into Sunday at this point.  Second, I thought I am just spreading myself too thin, a statement which isn't entirely false.  When my glucose levels are high, running around IS the normal response for me.  Last but not least, my arousal levels were too high to maintain today by pushing the need aside.  Currently, no one requires that I do so, but I tend to do it anyway out of sheer habit.  Giving into it feels indulgent.

No matter the reason, I suspect they're all at play anyway, I found myself looking to serve today.  Needing to.  Asking to.  Trying to figure out why.

I over think.  I know I do it.  Especially when there is something that is causing me anxiety or worry.  I have always been what people call "an out of the box" thinker.  I'm usually good at brain teasers because I see things as a whole rather than in parts.

This tends to be my downfall because it contrasts with my submissive personality at times.

I anticipate too much.  It can be a good thing but it can lead to trouble as well.

I disobeyed a direct and simple order.

I did it because to me, following it felt inadvertently disrespectful to the person who issued it.  I made a judgement call where it wasn't my place to do so. This person has done me an enormous favor, as difficult as it is for me to accept doing it both financially and emotionally, it is in my best interest.

I did it because it also allowed me to reduce some of my anxiety.  I tend to get lost easily when driving in unfamiliar places, especially when I'm tense.  I am certain I was looking to reduce that feeling, to take off some of the edge.

In seeking to reduce my own stress levels, my punishment added to them.  A consequence that fit the crime.  I lost the buffer of looking forward to a pleasant evening due to simple stupidity. 

The evening was emotional, insightful at times and thankfully, a bit calming. It took some skill to focus me after the ride, the drained battery on my gps and the sinking feeling of having done something wrong swirling around in my brain. Her voice is calming and effective.   I left feeling numb, grateful for sleep when I arrived home.  It was the only reward left.

A note inspired this entry.

Harmless question really, are you ticklish?

I've told this story before.  Some find it abusive, most just think it's odd.  But the answer to am I ticklish is no, or at least, I won't laugh if you try.

I grew up on the second floor in a railroad room apartment in Queens.  My father's favorite game (and mine as well) was to turn out all the lights and chase me around in the dark screaming "the tickle monster is coming to get you!"  He would hold out his index finger and make a buzzing sound, the sound alone would induce squeals.  Eventually, he'd catch me and bring me into the hall.  He'd hold me over the stairway rail, usually by my ankles and tickle me while I dangled there.  The only end to this game was to not laugh.  Believe me, I laughed till it was painful!

It would take ages to control it.  Especially when half the time, all he would need to do is to make the buzzing sound and I'd be laughing without even being touched.  But there came a time where I could control it, no matter what he did.  To this day, you can catch me off guard and get me, but within moments, you'll find that no matter what you do or where you try, I won't laugh.

We started playing the game when I was about four.  Innocently, I learned how to drop out of a space that hurt into one where it didn't.

"Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence."

-Leonardo DaVinci

The easiest way for me to tell if you're skilled is simple: you won't demand a thing. I already know what it is to find who you're meant to serve.  I know what it is to give all of yourself without being asked. 

But just because this is my nature it does not mean you've earned it simply by demanding it be so.  That's called roleplaying and that's fine.  I'm just not playing that game.

“You can't just turn on creativity like a faucet. You have to be in the right mood.
What mood is that?
Last-minute panic.”
--Bill Watterson

I need a little more Hobbes in my life and less Calvin.

Perhaps more appropriately, "Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him."

--Charles Dickens

I'm amusing myself.  Enough of that.  Truth is, when I don't have an answer for something, procrastination sets in.  I call it percolating.

The simple answers are usually the most genuine ones.  How did it feel?  It felt good.  Calming.  Familiar.  Then my mind says "why?" It offers up possibilities and I sift through them. 

They're just words.  Written on a screen.  Yes, someone else said them, but when you look at print, you can't hear anything but what's in your own head. 

It's been emotional today.  Viewing the wreckage in town, meeting up with an old HS friend to help talk sense into his dysfunctional mother.  We had taken a break to grab some coffee at Dunkin Donuts and I had stopped to check my phone.  For a moment, it was like being dipped in warm syrup.  Head to toe. No shaking, no deep breaths. Like standing in sunshine.  Before any other reaction happened, like anger or guilt, I had to refocus on my friend.  It's happened in public before.  Most of the time I retreat into my mind and this time I couldn't.  I didn't even give it any thought at all as to why it hadn't hurt, didn't even notice until a text brought me back into realizing it.

By then, I was driving in near darkness.

If I think too long about why it didn't hurt, it starts to.

I rarely allow myself to feel comfort emotionally.  I don't like to be coddled so I rarely offer it to myself.  But for two weeks I've been deprived of even the basic comforts.  I'm elated to have them back and guilt ridden for seeing so many who don't.  Perhaps that's been enough to just crack me open.

The most stirring thing about you must be your personality and intellect.

Without chemistry, I won't be interested or intrigued about what whets your appetite.

With it, I'll be the one aching to know more.

“Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength.” -- Eric Hoffer

The first time I submitted myself to another person, I did not feel it was easy.  Looking back, I realize there were two things in place: a deep sense of trust and a compelling desire to do so, despite the struggle.  At the time, I did not recognize how essential those two things are nor how difficult it would be to obtain the same combination again.

I have not lost the desire. 

I fear never allowing myself to trust another person.  Most of all, that is what I need.  Without it, the other needs and desires provide no fulfillment. They're hollow.

I realize I lack faith.  No wonder it is something you have to "leap" towards.  Afraid of remaining where you are and equally afraid of moving ahead left only with a choice of jumping.  There is no other way. 

Emotionally, I realize I need guidance.  I need to be able to work through this complex feeling of abandonment, anger and confusion.  Buddha was right, you're not punished for your anger, you're punished by it.

I adore assignments that allow me time to think and to be creative. I have always required time to "percolate" thoughts.  Instant impressions are like instant coffee: flavorless.

I crave constructive feedback.  It is not nearly as important to me if it is positive or negative; I need to be able to take something away from it that is useful. If I have done something well or poorly, I need to know what it is to improve it.

I do not like being set up for failure.  I hate learning by making mistakes out of ignorance.  I thrive with structured patterns but enjoy positive surprises. 

Physically, I need to provide pleasure.  Far more than I need to receive it.  I'm far more attracted to what I hear than to what I see.  Oddly enough, the one physical requirement is height.  I need to literally feel like I am looking up to someone.

I need to know that the person "driving the car" has a sense of direction and is a capable and confident driver.  I don't require knowing your destination, I already know where I am trying to get to. If I could get there myself, I'd be driving.  But chaotic behavior before trust will make me jump out of the car and walk.

It's like someone leaving fingerprints in your mind.  Easy ones.  Little pieces get brushed all day.  "You're beautiful."  "Good girl."  Far less sensitive than they used to be, yet still there.  It tickles at first.  Then, like tickling that has gone on too long, it hurts.  Rather than hurt, you just shut off feeling anything at all about it.

A competitive action of incompatibles.  Mental friction.  A conflict of needs that reach far beyond words and reactions.  A terrible longing for the person who left those fingerprints behind.  An identity that feels impossible at times to entirely reclaim.  I revel in small pieces of it; for short periods of time.  I nibble at it.  There's incredible hostility for leaving me in a position of wanting something that hurts.

Can you like a surprise that feels like a 2x4 to the back of your skull? I'm not surprised it works.  It's like someone suddenly stepping on your gas pedal.  You know very well the car is going to do a 100 mph, you just had no idea you were going to have to manage driving like that on a quiet side street.  The truculent side of me resents it.  Experiencing pleasure from it upsets me.  Without thinking, I defied constraints that only exist in my head now.  It took me out of the moment and gave me something to laugh about.  Laughing was the most incisive moment of all.

Guileless.  Yes, that fits.  Astute as well.  Being clever gets perceived as crafty much of the time.  Rather used to it but I think it confuses other people.

Sitting in the dark with two candles lit hoping I can find paper to write on.

My first reaction to hearing those words: bright lights in my head.  Multicolored.  Like Christmas lights.  My eyes must be closed.  My hands are shaking.  I only realize this because I'm losing grip on the phone. I'm trying to continue concentrating on what you were saying but I realize I'm hearing parts and the best I can do is concentrate harder on your voice and try to attach meaning to the words.  My left hand is over my mouth. 

Unexpected.  That's all I could think.  Breathe. Damn it, I'm breathing too hard. Slow it down.  Again.  Thinking about my basement.  The first time I realized what this was doing.  Fear and intrigue.  That confusing feeling of amazement that it happens and being afraid at the same time that it does. What feels good is attached to wonderful memories of a person who irresponsibly left me like this.

Hands between my legs.  I can't remember if I've done that automatically or have I been told to.  I'm drenched.  It was a few minutes later after the call that I started laughing.  My wet fingers were in my mouth long before I realized it was a defiant act.  I was never permitted to do that.  I'm rather shocked that I did.

It's an hour later.  A bit calmer now.  Part of me is trying not to think about it yet I've been tasked to write about it.  No wonder I'm staring at the screen.  I can't do both. I've lost my appetite for dinner but I'm eating anyway because I have to.  Parts of my body are humming.  That feeling when you press your lips together and hum?  That tickling, vibrating sensation?  That's what it feels like.  Tips of my fingers, my clit, the back of my neck.  Like I've been jolted.