self-drive

Yesterday my friend Marcus and i started talking about control. He was saying how a slave craves to be controlled by his Master. Somehow the concept didn't quite register with me. Something about it left me uncertain. Do i want to be controlled? I'm not sure that i do. In fact i suspect that being controlled too rigidly is what makes me want to run away. Marcus maintains it's reactance and there's possibly some truth in that but I sense there's more to it than that.

Sure, i would like a Master to have control over my life but not necessarily to control it. The difference i see in these two statements is that whereas the first describes a Master's involvement and final and, i should say, unappealable decisional power over a slave's life, the second seems to hint to a constant pain-staking passing or denying any decision a slave has to take in his life. It's kind of like bondage: i do like the idea of being helpless and vulnerably exposed but i would rather be free to serve and work to please my Owner. My service to my Master is something that i'm happy to offer as a tribute, a gift to symbolise and materialise my devotion to him, it's not something to be enforced every minute of the day, something which, i should add, must require a lot of work on the Master's part.

I suppose i prefer a model where I'm free to move and take decisions that put my Master's needs and interests at the core, instead of being told which foot to get up on.

has it already been since august?

i've been debating over what to do with this blog. If a blog's like a breathing, living creature, i'm afraid this one's been in a coma for a while. To be fair, I've been at its bedsite for a while now, bringing it flowers and trying to awaken it again but without success. I make mental notes of things i want to write about but somehow i never actually get to doing it.

I suppose i was a little fatigued by the perennial cycle of getting excited about talking to someone new and then seeing it not turn into anything. It felt like i was constantly writing about that when the real issue, namely what might actually have been the interconnecting wrongness of all these possibilities, appeared to blur more and more into vagueness.

I've considered calling it a day, blog-wise, but somehow it feels that there's stil more to be said, that the internal battle within me is not quelled and the virus is not defeated. Just like the blog, it was only dormant.