Sunday, November 29, 2009

Welcome home..

Yesterday was a day filled with thoughts while I was in the office. I found flashes of fantasy entering my mind's eye. Imagining watching fuckdoll lying on her back, legs wrapped around another man's waist with her hands clutching his ass as he pumps his cum inside of her. Just writing that now has sent my cock twitching to the sky.

I love the thought of sharing her around, and I hope that we can achieve that for both sides at some point in the future, but I know its not something we can rush into too quickly, a lot of stability is needed first.

I relayed this thought to fuckdoll during the day and she obviously liked the idea.

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Later in the day, I directed her to make sure that there is a beer waiting for me, chilled and opened for when I came through the apartment door. She did just that, and more..

Coming home I walked through the door to see her kneeling before me. Her hair in a ponytail, her collar locked into its rightful place. Her top was a pink and black striped number with matching over the knee socks and her shoes that have padlocks locking them on. She looked up at me and was holding a freshly opened bottle of beer for me. Perfect.

I put down my helmet and bike jacket and took the beer, instructing her to take off my shoes and socks for me, followed by my jeans and underwear. She obviously knew what was coming when she saw that my cock was solid in such a short space of time. She started sucking me and after a few seconds, I pulled her head forward to slide my cock deep down into her throat.

Its something I've been working on with her - training her to be able to fully deep throat me, not an easy task I'd imagine with over 9inches but she copes very well. She's getting much better at it lately.

I told her to stay with me down her throat and for her to use her tongue on me at the same time. And then I removed my hands from her head. Her eyes were watering slightly as she wrapped her warm tongue around my cock, the slight gagging convulsions of her throat were squeezing my cock in a wonderful way but I knew she needed air.

Pulling out of her mouth, I instructed her to get on her knees.. I got her to reach back and hold onto the heels of her shoes and then I grabbed hold of her hair as I slid inside her soaking wet cunt. She was now just balancing on her knees, so all I had to do was pull back of her hair to slide inside her, or relax my grip to slide out a little.. Within a few thrusts, she was wincing as I thumped the end of my cock all the way into her pussy, I could feel it hitting her cervix as she started to cry a little and tell me I was hurting her. Which only made it better.

I could feel my cock harden even more and grow a little longer and thicker as I grabbed hold of her hips and pounded deeper and harder inside of her soaking wet cunt. Her animal growls heightening as I was reaching orgasm. I grabbed hold tighter and thrust into her, physically unable to go deeper as I came the hardest I have for the last few days.

After regaining my breath, I was unlocking her shoes and noticed large drops of my cum leaking out of her onto the wooden floor. I instructed her to kneel down and lick it up.

What a wonderful fucking sight.

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Monday, November 23, 2009

Being a function, not a person.

I believe alcoholics call it a "moment of clarity". That defining moment in time when everything seems to be transparent. Where you see everything about a situation, or a life experience, that you are currently facing.

I've a few in my life. One where I knew I had to cut off contact with my mother for reasons I won't talk about now. Another, more recent example, was when I realised (while sat in a resturant) that I had to leave my wife.

I've just had another one.

In the company in which I work (yes, I know, I've complained about here a lot, but just hear me out), we get an annonymous survey to fill out every year. The purpose of this survey is meant to be so that the corporation can assess the happiness of its workforce and change policies accordingly. However, this company being the one it is, its never that simple.

For example, last year, they assessed one department earlier than usual. The responses where all positive (so they reported), and one week later, they sacked 1/3 of that department's workforce. Obviously the reason for the early survey was that the company knew that the reduction in headcount would lower moral and fuck up the survey results.

To point such an obvious action in this company gets you labelled with the "negative" tag, and you can kiss your career goodbye. And this is part of my issue.

I've been in this company for almost 6yrs. And got nowhere. Same pay grade as when I started. Same boring tasks 38hrs a week.

If my performance drops, they jump around and panic. If my stats exceed what they want, they claim I'm being dodgy in my work practices and demand I prove my innocence. Its patheticly unrewarding.

My manager has worked for the company for two years and has no management skills or technical ability (and for a manager of a technical team, you'd how that they had one of those two things).

So, back to my moment of clarity: I have managed to reach as far as my career will go in this company. Christ, I reached my career peak the first day I started. I've never surpassed that lowly level of pond-scum.

Even a once close friend of mine became "one of them" and started to regurgitate the same indoctinated shit that everyone else says when they can't think outside what the company tells them.

I'm one of those faceless people that "normal" people shout at. Call centre workers, cleaners, waitresses in a roadside cafe, garbage collectors.. we are all the same. We all serve a purpose and are viewed as week sub-humans that deserve no ounce of respect from our fellow man. We lead a life of mundane repetition that's leads us nowhere.

I remember a piece of street-art I saw in the city a couple of years ago. It was a simple stencil spraypainted on the ground, and it said a few simple words:

Work. Consume. Die.

How very true for some of us. I get paid to listen to complaints and people shouting and screaming at me because something the company bought on the cheap doesn't work. I then have to cope with the draconian policies and procedures the company has put in place to maximise profits, and when the customer expresses their unhappiness at this, I am rated on it. If they aren't happy with the way I explain that I can't help, the company tells me I'm not friendly enough. You point out that the system and procedures are why I could help the customer, but then you are labelled "negative". Its impossible to win.

I've realised that my life in this company is one of pointless boredom with no chance of a new challenge. I had a slight whiff of a suicidal thought cross across my mind before writing this post, but that has now passed. I think it was the realisation that for 20% of my life, I've been employed by a company that doesn't care about me, my life or my career.

I serve no purpose in my working life as long as I am surrounded by these idiots who exist behind fake smiles, corporate propaganda and a constant inability to just make a decision on their own.

I need a work/life balance. And this place just doesn't support it.

I need somewhere new. I need something exciting. I need to stop sitting around complaining and actually do it.



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Thursday, November 19, 2009

The world has opened up, I no longer have tunnel vision..

I can feel my mood is rising a little compared to yesterday's grounding. I think I've been a little stressed lately that I am not able to be the Dom that fuckdoll deserves to have. But I also thing that that feeling is mainly due my bipolar causing such a crashing blow my self-confidence.

Whenever I am in a low depression, everything feels like its my fault, I don't feel motivated to do anything and I hear my internal voice saying that eveything is going wrong because I exist. "Wouldn't it just be better if you did everyone a favour and killed yourself...?".

That's a question my bipolar asks me on a far too regular occurance.

However, today is different. Its a wonderful warm summer's day (Australia is backwards and you actually get sunburned putting up the xmas tree, something I've still not quite got used to). Me and fuckdoll walked down to our local beach for some sun-baking and I even delved into the wickedly choppy ocean for a dabble at swimming - which just ended up being a farce of me trying to not drown.

I can feel a mild sun burn on my shoulders under my tshirt and I know that it will turn a few shades darker in a couple of days. We are heading back tomorrow morning for more. But hopefully the swell will be less vicious.

This morning, after the fight with the ocean I managed to obliterate my glasses (I'm blind without them). I sat there in total panic, I couldn't focus on my fuckdoll, only sat on the other side of the table. She ran over the road from the cafe we were sat at, and got me a set of contact lenses within minutes, and my sight was restored. But, something else was too - I felt free. I could see everything. No frames giving me only clear sight when looking directly forwards. It was almost a symbolism for how fuckdoll is opening my eyes in other ways too - she just literally did it for real this morning.

(And a big thank you to the optician who donated the contact lenses without charge - you really saved my sanity)

I sit here on my 530pm lunch break (I'm beginning to detest shift work) listening to my collection of Cafe Del Mar on my trusty iPod. And I can't help but think that I want a more normal job. I used to enjoy the shift work because it gave me free time in which I could visit fuckdoll, but now that we are together all the time, its starting to piss me off. I want to spend more time with her.

Mood rating: -1.5. Not great, but relatively, I'm on cloud nine today..



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Isn't doing things right, it seems..

Mood level: -2.8.. And yet still, it deepens.

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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Emotional stockmarket crash, here I come.

I've got a killer migraine today. And I'm sliding down a slope into a depression. I hate the feeling of it coming on - just helplessness, the more I fight to escape it, the harder its clutches grasp onto me, pulling me in faster and harder.

Over breakfast, fuckdoll said that we can't have me going into a depression at the moment. We've got too many things to sort out for the new apartment. I know hat she wasn't being insensitive with her comment though - she was just stating a fact. Its hard to deal with me in a depression when we have other matters to attend to.

The problem with my depressions is that, when they start to come on, the world seems to conspire against me in an effort to drive me over the edge. This time is no exception.

I recently moved teams (long story, my old manager was a cunt), and found that with my move, I had a lot less stress and managed to really ramp up my productivity. I was taking 3 to 4 times the number of calls I took in the old team. You would think that me being back to how I was a couple of years ago would be welcomed, but you'd be wrong with that assumption.

I've been asked to fill out online forms for everything I do. If I transfer a call, I have to ask the address where the person is calling from. If they are on a mobile phone, I have to run a scan on the network and find their location and then record that. All this for a customer that came through to the wrong department.

They also want me to validate any call that I don't transfer because they are suggesting that I'm not doing my job properly. They, of course, don't have any evidence of this happening (because its not), but its the basic corporate rule of "guilty until proven guilty". And no, that's not a typo. They basically assume your guilt, and then allocate resources to attempting to back up their assumptions.

They constantly tell the employees that they want us to give a human element to our calls, but if our statistics are out of the set-in-stone guidelines, they come down on you like a ton of bricks. What they actually want is a human touch with robotic precision. As stupid as that sounds.

Mood at the moment: -2, really on a downward slope. Just don't tell anyone.


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Monday, November 9, 2009

I wanna be one of the four out of five.

The migraine from yesterday has passed and I'm at work as usual today. The sun is bright and warm, and I've had a great morning exercise walk past the beach this morning with fuckdoll. I dropped her off at work and rode on to the office.

Riding my motorbike always allows my brain a chance to clear itself of any cloudy areas and gives me a chance to reflect on the things that happen in my life. One thing that happened recently is that we watched a documentary by Stephen Fry (British actor, google him if you aren't sure) who, like myself, suffers from bipolar. He spoke openly about the disability and introduced other famous people to also deal with BP on a daily basis. Carrie Fisher was one, and Richard Dryfuss was another). To see these well-known faces talking about the same struggles I face all the time made me open up inside.

I didn't tell fuckdoll what I was thinking, not because I was hiding it, simply because I wasn't sure where I stood on my thoughts. I felt like I needed to cry to release the tension, but thats something I find hard to do on most occasions. It wasn't a sad feeling though, it was because of the relief I felt wash over me.

I've always had this nagging feeling that I don't have BP. That I am just a complete fuck-up instead. That I feel depressed at times because that's just life. You see, I've never actually been able to talk with another BP sufferer face-to-face. I've never been able to rid myself of the concerns I have about me.

Sure, if you ask 10 people if they have BP, easily half will say they do (no research to back this claim up, but please ask people and email me to see what you found!). The reason I think that people say they have it (but have never been medicated) is because they are "stress puppies" and/or drama queens. They love the attention and to say you have such varied mood swings sounds, well, to some idiots - it sounds kinda cool.

The thing is, its not cool at all. 20% of real bipolar sufferers will commit suicide. That's one in five. So if I meet four other BP people, chances are, one of us is going building jumping, or going for "the swim that needs no towel".

What a fucking disturbing thought.

Another 20% will need to be hospitalised for a duration at some point in their lives due to either a depressive state (that was almost me when I had my breakdown and was diagnosed). 40% will never function to their full potential and will remain in a boring job all their lives (hello, call centre worker right here for 6yrs).

And its those stats from the program that got me thinking. Is my BP that is the thing that's kept me in my crappy job for so many years without progressing upwards while those idiots around me go further? Maybe.

If this was a Hollywood movie, I'd now say how I'm not "gonna let it beat me" and start running up the city hall steps throwing punches at thin air. But its not. This is the cold light of day reality we are dealing with here. And Bipolar is something you survive with, not something you live with.

I'm just gratefull that I have readers for this blog - it makes me feel like others that don't even know me care, even just a little bit.

Also, no matter what I post about. I'm going to start putting a mood scale at the bottom of each post so I can track myself. Hope you don't mind.

0 (zero) is "normal"
+3 is full mania (I wanna be a superhero vigilante and ride around on a chopper - and, yes, that is actually something I've said before)
-3 is full depressive state (meaning I'm thinking about death a little too much)

Mood at the moment: a little depressed -1



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Sunday, November 8, 2009

Migraine.

I lie on the sofa as I write this post. The lights dimmed and my sub making dinner for us both. It sounds romantic, but the trth is that I have a crushing headache. A migraine from bipolar hell.

I didn't get these headaches when I was on my medication, and had honestly forgotten how much they impact me when they decide to strike. Wincing at the smallest of noises, feeling constantly sick amongst other horrid effects.

But, as I said to fuckdoll a few moments ago, this is part of me. Its part of bipolar for a small amount of sufferers too.

This is more of a record for me, so I can keep track of my progress in stopping my meds..

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Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Awesome News!!

WE GOT AN APARTMENT OF OUR OWN!!

WOOHOOOO!!!

LET THE SORDID BEHAVIOUR BEGIN!!!!

:D

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