Room

I spent part of my weekend re-arranging the garage. I've several projects going on out there to the extent that the car no longer fit. With some effort, though, I was able to make room through neatly crating and creatively stacking and shelving in two storage spaces. Now I can get the car in. But I can barely move inside the storage spaces beyond removing crates and boxes, and to un-pack them I'd have to move the car outside again.

I find this situation hilarious, particularly since I just bought this house less than a year ago and at the time couldn't imagine how I'd use all the space.

What does this have to do with the topic of this blog? Well, I tend to go on and on about my search for my Domme. There are so many things I'd want to share, learn, explore with her. Whole swaths of my mind and emotions can only be tapped into by "her," and I'm eager to get glimpses into those places.

But my life is full. I was running solid until 10:00 every night last week (no, not partying) and I rarely get out of bed later than 5:30; 4:30 when I'm in training. Even on weekends I have to calendar events and tasks on my Blackberry to fit everything in. THIS IS NOT A COMPLAINT! This is my choice and my consequence. My reservoir of interests and curiosity seems to be inexhaustible and I choose to live as broadly and deeply as I can, given time, energy, and money.

But where would "she" fit in? She's not going to stand out in the rain while my boxes of stuff stay neatly stacked in storage. I also don't want to dump too many of my little passions, medium-sized projects, or those big life-long goals that make people gasp "you really DID that?" At the moment, these things define me, and I share them with anyone who will listen or participate.

I know my view on the world will change once I fall under her spell, that much of what is in that space will seem like junk when re-evaluated under new, less-spotty and less-dingy light. And it is fear, loneliness, and insecurity that causes us to clutch insignificant things closely to us.

Perhaps, then, all that stuff isn't really a barrier. Perhaps it's an indication, a dashboard readout of whether I've found her. As the stacks of crates disappear, the physical bar-graph indicating fear, loneliness, and insecurity will drop until there is ample floorspace, my long-awaited other held close.

Quietlisten

(Cross-Posted from Collar 'n Cuffs web site blog: collarncuffs.com)