Humans are disposable.. Just don't get a hard-on from hitting one of them..

Its now 05.49am and I can't sleep. I feel tired but coming off the night shift at work throws your bodyclock into a complete quandry. I feel tired, but I think my body feels like it should be guiding some drunk idiot through configuring his wireless modem while he shouts deaths threats at me. Therefore, I'm in a tired but sleepless state.

So, I've decided to write up something I thought about while lying here about the movie myself and fuckdoll saw yesterday: "Surrogates", starring the hard to be killed, Bruce Willis.

Great movie, first off. The storyline (which I can cover without ruining the plot to the whole thing) is that something like 98% of the world's population stays physically at home and sits in a chair with sensors and such. This allows them to send out a robot version of themselves into the real world. This is marketed in the movie as a way to stay 100% safe as, even if you are ass-raped by a rabid gorilla, you remain safe at home.

All this causes an interesting side effect - no one gives a shit about another person's safety. The "people" you see out and about are disposable. And this is what I want to talk about with the real world as we know it today, along with the bizarre contradictions people still hold dear.

There's a scene in the movie (without giving anything away) where there's a massive room with the sensor chair things, and soldiers are in each one. Then it cuts to the actual war where blank faced soldiers are fighting, one gets killed and the real soldier back at the base just logs into another robot and carries on fighting. It was this that made me compare it to the current world as we know it. For example, I find it hard to identify with people I don't know - most likely from my childhood where I was kept away from social situations (no Freudian assessments, please!).

But a lot of the world are like this as well. I mean, you can run a few google searches and find internet videos of people being killed by all manner of means. There's porn where girls take on 50 or 60 guys one after the other. Videos of soldiers taking out insurgents with an arsenal of weaponry. Its reduced the population's sensitivity to harm to others in much the same way the movie depicted. We don't care about others, as a general rule.

But, and here's the contradiction, if myself and fuckdoll where to "come out" and say we both enjoy it when I slap her hard across the face, or use a choke hold to make her pass out, or poking her clit with needles, society would be in shock.

How is it that we can all be more focussed in catching a view of the carnage and gore as we pass a car crash, but two consenting adults that enjoy SM makes us recoil in horror? Bizarre, isn't it?

Myself and fuckdoll have been together (in a form) for over a year now, and we have been through more than a regular couple might face in five times that amount of time. I truly know that she trusts me with her life - she hands that control to me regularly - and I would never do anything to put her in danger. I know 110% that I would trust he with my life for the same reason.

But, if I tried to explain to our "vanilla" friends the things we do, most of them would see me as evil, and probably see fuckdoll as a beaten "wife" who needs help. If only she could see that.. Etc etc.

I can (I hope) safely assume that, as you are reading this blog, you are able to separate abuse from SM. But, I still find society's general consensus to disposable people, yet horror at certain consentual activities quite odd.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to cuddle my little fuckdoll and try and get some more sleep.

Have a good day everyone, and check out that movie. Its a good one.

;)

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I've lost faith in Darwin. Evolution stopped centuries ago. Humans are getting dumber.

This week, I'm doing the graveyard shift at work, meaning I need to sleep during the daylight hours. A long story I won't go into means than I'm now knackered, grumpy and sat in a cafe drinking a decaf latte before attempting more sleep in a short while.

But there's something irritating the fuck out of me. Its the self-righteousness of parents of young children.

Nothing makes my anger boil like when my relaxing coffee or lunch is distrubed by a screaming child that has one of these parents. Kids and babies cry from time to time, I completely understand that. But the pat of the scenario that makes me want to go mass-homicidal is when the parents ignore it. Or, in the case now in front of me, they laugh and make googoo faces and noises as the devil spawn screaming bloody murder.

I've caught eye contact with the father who's the culprit in this situation and he obviously doesn't care that the rest of the cafe patrons are being distrubed. He's waving his arms around as if to say "well, if I've lost all care for the screaming, you shouldn't be too concerned either"

But. I AM concerned. I'm concerned that you are teaching your child that screaming and shouting in public is a completely acceptable passtime. They allow the child to scream more and more as the months and years pass, and claim that this teaches the child that screaming gets you nowhere.

But I beg to differ. (Face it, you knew that was coming!)

I call my theory the "Happy Meal Syndrome". First, a kid asks for a happy meal, and they are refused. Kid then throws a very small tantrum, and obtains the happy meal. Kids aren't stupid, and this only means that next time, they start the negotiation at the small tantrum next time. The parent, again, ignores it to "teach" it that screaming gets you nowhere. And then, they give in.

This syndrome is carried on into adult life. Ask yourself why people completely loose the fucking plot at store clerks for no apparent reason. Or why people go nuts at call centre workers. Or sit in non-moving traffic beeping the horn.

Is there any other example more perfect than a herd of cars, all stationary, and most of them beeping the horn at the (non moving) car in front of them? What do they actually hope to achieve? This is the happy meal syndrom in full effect. Make loud noises and you are meant to get what you want.

I'll give you another example. On last night's shift the three guys on the phones (myself and two co-workers) had one woman call in a total of 7 times over the shift, asking the same question. It was a question that she had to ask another department, that only open during business hours. But she came to the conclusion that repeatedly calling and, effectively, being a crying baby, would give the required outcome.

Fuck. People are stupid.

Anyone got any other examples that they wanna get off their chests? We people with functioning brains need to stick together!


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Not quite a hard situation...

Its a wonderful day today, the sky is blue, the sun is hot and people are smiling (before they start their shifts). Today is symbolic for me as well, as I feel that I'm pretty much out of my most recent depression. This comes not only as good news to me, but also to fuckdoll.

One of the main problems that happen due to a depressive state, is a total lack of sex drive. While that frustrating to both people, it becomes worse as I start to come out of the low and stabilise again - I start to feel incredibly horny but, due to the depression, nothing works.. And, quite frankly, that fucking sucks.

I just hope that it sorts its shit out soon, because I'm gagging to slap fuckdoll around and hear her screams again as I force my cock into her body..

I'll keep you updated ;)

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"War is Peace," "Freedom is Slavery," "Ignorance is Strength." (Welcome to 1984)

It hit me when I arrived at the main set of lights where I make the turn into the business park area in which the campus is location - I didn't want to make the turn. I wanted to carry on riding. Throw away the troubles of this job and just sign up to finish my training for another career path and start working as that as soon as I physically can.

But that's not what's expected or needed of me right now. What's needed and expected of me is to keep my head down, put on my headset and endure the contempt and disgust I have towards the people that work for this company. If you can call what they do work.

Just across from me as I sit and write this, outside one of the multiple on-campus cafes, 5 suited people (2 women and 3 gay guys) are making toasts with their cups of coffee and discussing the usual gossip type things. Just beyond that group is another, doing pretty much the same thing.

Where as, I am the invisible one. The "CFU", or Customer Facing Unit.

A "unit". A device or small increment of measurement. That's me. I allow these wankers to do nothing all day but drink coffee and drive lamborghinis (there was one in the carpark yesterday, and I saw a ferrari as I entered this afternoon).

My job, quite simply, is to cover up the company's bad network and procedures. I tell customers that, no, there's no-one else with that problem in the area. Even though there are about 60+ others. I'm the one that has to smile and say how great it is that an entire department is now responsible for making the workplace fun.

There's even a man with the title "Culture Executive" for fuck's sake.

Upon enquiring what his job was, I was told he was responsible for making the company happy. I then asked what happens if someone isn't happy, (like me, for example), and that person had become disillusioned with the company's focus and direction. Well, I was told, that's because you are "negative", and therefore can't be helped. It also means that if I'm happy, its all down to him. If I'm sad, its my fault and he can't be blamed.

But, I digress. Back to my point.. I hate my job. I feel dirty and grimy as I flex my bullshit gland on a daily basis. Smiling when I have to, and pretending to be excited when they tell me that Marketing are pulling on board 150,000 more customers onto a network that can't even handle its current workload. When I point this out, I'm met with the usual "don't say anything" or "don't be negative" responses. But I've had enough.

These people don't need to deal with the barrage of abuse I get dealt to me on an hourly basis from frustrated customers. They aren't told how many seconds I need to spend on calls on average. They don't have to have the same customers that shout at them then rate their interactions 24 hours later. And aren't then punished when the customers aren't happy. I hate being told that I can improve the "customer experience" by, basically, bullshitting our "valued customers" better and cracking jokes with them (how I'm meant to do this between them threatening my life over a crappy internet connection, I don't know).

I feel like I'm working in the Ministry Of Truth in George Orwell's 1984.

Remember the Party Truths:
"War is Peace"
"Freedom is Slavery"
"Ignorance is Strength."

God I need to go for a ride.

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I'm currently unavailable, please leave a message after the long tone...

Its been a weird few days.

I've been admitted and then discharged from hospital, realised I really can't stand my job for a minute longer without feeling repulsed at dealing with grown adults carrying on like children (both customers and co-workers), and house "mates" being anything but friendly.

And now I've just admitted to fuckdoll that I'm in a depressive period. I'm not sure if she's ever been regularly at the level that I'm at, she says she understands what I'm going through, but I'm just not sure. I know that she loves and cares for me, but I find it hard sometimes to find myself worthy of life. I've told her of this but sometimes its really hard to say, out loud, your thoughts as they sound so sad and withering that they make you feel even worse.

Right now, at this point in time, I know that I have so much going for me. Yet I find myself having to think of a reason not to die every few seconds just to fend off the suicidal thoughts for that moment, even though its as futile as attempting to bat away the onset of old age - its not going away.

In the hospital the other day, when I had the lumbar puncture, I was warned of possible spinal damage or even death. The odd thing (I suppose) is that the thought of having a disability was horrifying to me, yet the thought of death was (almost) welcome. "At least the pain will stop". That was the first thought that entered my mind.

Now, I'm suddenly in two-minds about posting this update, simply because I find it hard to know that fuckdoll will read it at her earliest convenience. And, without a doubt, she will be upset by what she reads. But this is my dilemma that I face almost daily. Having to fight off the suicidal thought attacks my depression throws at me and yet, at the same time, fighting back any externally visable show of that fight to those around me.

There's also the other part of the equation: those around me will feel hurt and lied to. This will be because I've hidden the thoughts from them. Again this is mainly due to the standard response people have when faced with a fellow human who feels that, when faced with the choices they must face in life, find the solution of their own death to be the most preferable option to choose. That standard response is to point out all the "good" things that the person should live for.

Here's my (somewhat jaded) advice for the moment - a suicidal person doesn't want to hear the things to live for, not as such. Reeling out a list like that will only result in them feeling like they are so bad that they should, most probably, just take their life and have done with the whole saga.

Interesting that I used the word saga there. As it, so smoothly, leads me to my next point, its only Monday evening. I have, so far this week, expended that much energy trying to smile at the right points, joking when jokes are expected and generally cheating myself into surviving another hour that it should at least be Thursday.

This week is going to take a couple of months to see through to it's end..

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.


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Illness, spinal taps and these go to 11.

Its been sometime again since I last posted, and I can only hope that you have been reading the updates on fuckdoll's blog in the meantime to see that I have not been on a complete mania.

I have, however, been reducing my medications over the past few weeks with the advice of my doctor, simply becase I really don't want to be on them forever. I want to take the control back within my own hands now, and I feel that I am in a stable enough role in my life to start that first step.

In other news, unrelated to my medication situation, I was admitted to hospital early on wednesday morning (just gone) with a very high fever, low blood pressure and migraine, all mixed with the sheer panic of my throat starting to close up. Fuckdoll did a great job of taking care of me, but I could see the panic in her eyes too.

A number of tests were carried out on me with no results. The worst test by far was the "lumbar puncture". Which is, let it be said, far from as civil as it's name suggests. It, quite simply, involves the doctors forcing a large-gauge needle between the vertebra of your spine and into the sack of fluid and goo around your spinal cord. They then suck out some of this fluid. And yes, it really does hurt as much as it sounds like it would.

So, I apologise for a lack of the usual "good" content for this update: but I'm completely knackered just functioning!

A really big thank you to my fuckdoll though, for caring for my during my time of need, and for putting aside the frustrations I cause her at times.

Take care,
Master.



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