Tag Archives: Essay

Warrior

For the longest time I said that I was a soldier. I’ve been wrong this whole time. Not out of disrespect for military members, but in the definition. Soldiers take orders, soldiers do what they are told. I don’t. I do what I do based upon my thoughts and feelings. I base them on my emotions, not my orders. Yes, there is a line of command in my life, but we like to see ourselves as equals, not an underling and commander. Well, outside of some situations 😉

But the definition of warrior is this: (especially in former times) a brave or experienced soldier or fighter.

Maybe even warrior doesn’t fit. But I’ve been wrong either way because while I do take orders off and on I mostly make my own choices, my own decisions based on my life, my experiences. I’ve not always made the right choices, but I live with them. I carry upon my shoulders a world of guilt and pain that I feel that I’ll never make up for.

When people catch me off guard and call me a good person, a hero even, I don’t believe them. Heroes are born, heroes are made. I on the other hand have been forged. Forged in fires that I will never be able to put out, that will always sear me under the skin till the day that I die if even then. We spend so much of our lives struggling to find out who or what the hell we are and most of the time we never do figure any shit out.

While it sucks and makes us ponder great many things that maybe we should have figured out before the last death rattle, it is what it is. We stand, we fall. But I stand tall. I am a warrior of the ilk that comes from the frozen wastelands of Eastern Europe and the dry and parched land of India. I am a mix of many things but warrior I am. I fight every day against the things that I can’t win against but I do it because I have to. The mountain in front of me might be immovable but I am not, I can crawl over it on hands and knees if necessary. I have, and I will.

As a warrior I also have to face my fears, and part of that is understanding that I’m not going to be able to defend against anything and everything that comes our way, my way. I’m doing a bit better at it now, but its still difficult to give up and let life flow through the valleys and mountains.

We stand upon rocks and cling to treetops to see the encroaching enemies that come to our gates, our villages in the dark. We stand and we fight, we are brave in the eyes of the oppressors. But warriors get tired too. We fall in battle and we feel lost. We feel the world upon our shoulders. I know I do, every day I feel the world resting there, like the yuke of the past and future pressing down on me. But I push on, through the fields of gold, the valleys of frozen rivers. We press onward ever exhausted unable to make amends for previous wrongs, or at least I do. Because its all I’ve ever known. All I’ve ever known is pressing on, a brave in the eyes of my family but never myself.

See, I don’t really see what I do, what I’ve done. I press on, weapon in hand to fight. Swinging and fighting, chopping and slicing I press through what ever I face. But this warrior is tired. He needs someone else to take the mantle from him for just a little bit. Not forever, just long enough to catch his breath. To become whole again, in the eyes of his gods, in his eyes. See, perception is everything to me. How I’m perceived, how I perceive others. Sometimes I’m wrong and other times I’m just misunderstood because I am unclear. I am unclear to myself most of the time until I’m sleeping and things have hit me like a war hammer in the face of everything.

In those moments of clarity rests the biggest issues I have. I have solutions to my problems but I don’t have the means of completing them. Because this warrior is tired. I’m exhausted all my possible trump cards, all my favors have been called in. Its me or nothing that will get it done, but when you have things and people telling you its not possible no matter how possible it is, you end up thinking its not. The way humans are wired is a funny thing, sometimes things like that push you just that much harder to do it. Other times it collapses the house of cards you’ve built to try and make a difference for you, for loved ones. I don’t have a family but the one I’ve made, the one I’ve built. So many people have come and gone, so many people have left me. Sometimes, a lot of the time actually, its all my fucking fault… Other times it isn’t as clear as that, both parties are to blame. Looking back you see the mistakes you’ve made, the things others  have done or didn’t do… and thats what stings the most.

Looking back, warriors can see what the fuck they did wrong, how they got sliced or cut deeper than they intended. In the perfect world we are supposed to learn from that, but when you’ve been running on adrenaline and fear for so many years you lose that edge, that ability. And I’ve been running on adrenaline and fear for too long. This warrior is tired. I’m ready for a big sleep, but not the big one. Not yet at least, I have a few more decades in me I think.

But gods damned I’m tired. So tired. Wake up exhausted and press forward, my warrior juice of caffeine and nicotine. Chemicals that drive me on, not… Me. I don’t have that drive to push forward anymore on my own. I need a hand up from the blood slicked battlefield. I need someone to reach down into the pile of bodies I’m being crushed by to pull me out. I thought I could do it all on my own. I can’t. I just can’t anymore. Its been this way for a long time. So long, so many battles I feel like I’ve fought on my own… Because I have. The battles you’ve never seen behind my eyes and my soul.

Because I’m a warrior, a brave, a fighter. Never a mercenary, never an assassin. I stand tall and strong, even when the killing blow has been struck, even when the pain is too much. I stand tall. I swing my sword, bash my shield upon the faces of the enemies at the gate. I draw my arrow and it flies true as the final breath escapes my lips. Because I have to. Because if I don’t, who will?

But gods damn if I ain’t tired. Gods damned if I don’t feel smaller and weaker every day. Maybe its just a phase, maybe its just a moment of weakness before I get a second wind. I don’t know. But I carry on. I carry onward and upward, scrabbling over the rocks and brush of the mountain. I swim the oceans between us and our enemies bobbing and weaving through the currents as a fish. Because I’m the only one who can. Because I’m the one who has to.

So when I feel tired enough, I’ll sleep. I’ll sleep a long sleep and hopefully have someone to watch over me to keep the enemies away, the demons at bay.

Advertisements

Story ideas, or how I create.

image

Sometimes I have ideas pop into my head that are born from the ether, sometimes its photos. The stories that pop into my mind are random, violent, sexy, or even slow burns. I have ideas that I’ll never flesh out, some I will.

Other times, I listen to podcasts and they formulate stories for me. I was listening to The Paracast and JC Johnson talking about his recent cases in the American South West. And I was thinking of another story Id written ages ago.

And now I have an idea for a story. Probably not a novel, but its something. The more I write, the more I realize that I love the short story or novelette idea. I can get my idea out, and there is a new market for them in ebooks and anthologies. Because print books are slowly dying, short stories are making a come back.

image

And I like the idea that they are. It is an artform that has lost meaning and practice in America. With our faster paced society, we have less time and short stories are great for that. It fufills the want to read, and it usually doesn’t take much time.

So, back to creation. I think most of my ideas are born from outside of me. The other worlds I’ve seen and experienced. Not fan-fiction, but taking archetypes and finding a twist and making it my own. We are all influenced by the media we ingest and enjoy. Games or books, television shows or movies, all inspire us.

You will never see me writing hack shit. Never. Maybe some bad writing here and there, but never hack.

The other place my ideas come from is me. Emotional states, memories, and things I’ve seen all spur me on to write. Some fiction, some non-fiction.

But at the end of the day? Ideas come from the strangest places.

And I like that.

The struggle

image

The struggle I face is multifacited. Its my bisexuality and bondage attraction. Its my everyday life. Its many things. Its my acceptance of being bi and loving what I call Intimate Bondage. Its the struggle with money, time, and family. Its everything that stresses me out, either momentarily or constantly.

But underneath it all, I’ll be ok. And I don’t need domme’d to know this. I think people are noticing me and my writings again. I know that my photography and writings will get me somewhere. My family is safe and warm. I have a job.

But its the struggle to maintain a balance that bothers me. Because I need duality, balance, and chaos all at the same time. Its strange to know I find peace in the blindfold squeezing around my head, and the quiet inner calm that fills me.

I’m dead serious when I say that being blindfolded, bound, and domme’d breaks me free from my struggle with the everyday. See, people are actually all sheeple. We all conform to a set of laws and regulations everywhere.

image
Or we press against the wall afraid of an emu.

Publicly we obey the government and laws governing us. We follow the traffic laws, and laws about violent behavior. We wait impatiently in the pharmacy line without slitting the person giving everyone a detailed description of their sex life.

Privately we follow the rules and regulations of relationships. Between friendships, marriages, and other interactions we conform. Some people you can’t talk about cars or UFOs. Some people you can’t fart around.

We all conform into little boxes of neatness to present ourselves right.

image
Even if its just wearing a shitty meme shirt.

And while we all know this, we need reminded of it. Because of people like me, and maybe you, we make the world. We make it revolve and change. The normal people, the ones who lost, do too. While they plug away at their shitty job and shitty life we carry on.

We bring the struggle to the front. We dye our hair crazy colors. We peirce our nipples or get tattoos. We stick out. On purpose.

Because we all have something to share. It might be limited like my interests, but I have things to say. Maybe they’ll be heard, maybe not. But I’m gonna say them. Because they need said.

image
Sometimes we all need to let go.

A year or so ago, I thought about making my own church, “Todds church of not an asshole”.
And I realized that while people might listen, they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t understand that I was talking about them. So, I moved on from that brain fart.

But while my religious views are different, the principles are the same. Do as little harm as you travel through life. Its that simple.

But simplicity in a struggle, especially internal is never simple. Because I have to take the time and balance things internally so the external me can function. Because I was raised religious I rebel against myself and who I am. I accept my faults and blessings. But the struggle to maintain paradigm is difficult. And by expressing my bi wants/needs and my D/S/Bondage needs I am doing it.

I am balancing the struggles.

image
Hoky hell Robin! All thats missing is Kirk!

But Id love it if I could get some feedback on my posts. I have little to no self esteem. I have no faith most of the time in me.

So, I leave you all with this thought: how do you fight the struggle? The daily and the extraordinary ones?

(NSFW) The curve

 

Image

As I think and move along the path of being a married bi male, I find myself thinking of something that Sunstone, and my wife brought up last night. The curve. The curve is when you no longer take the pleasure from the bondage or D/S, and keep pushing forward. Bigger, better, hotter ideas that force  you to push yourself and your limits. Not just your limits, but the limits of your partner. And that curve is dangerous for you and your partner(s). The curve will break you or make you, and its important to be aware of that curve. I’ve not reached that curve, nor have I pushed my wife to that curve. But now that she’s reminded me of the curve I am going to keep and eye out for it. Because I need my wife. She is my love, my best friend. She has been there for me when everyone else has faded or died. She is the one. 

Image

But as i contemplate the curve, I realize that while i don’t need Domme’d or bondage every time we have sex, I want it. I need it. Crave it in so many ways. But love making is important too. Don’t stop thinking about the pure aspect of sex, of love making. Expressing love and need physically. We need this, and like my wife said… she can’t domme me every time. I agree, and i have come to realize when exactly I need the Domme/bondage. Its when my everyday life is out of control and I feel that everything is out of control. I use the high, the intimacy of bondage to break free of the pain, the frustrations. 

See, bondage is different for everyone. Some use it as the only way to get off, some like I do, others need the pain and terror to feel alive. As I grow and become more and more comfortable in my skin, in my needs, I understand.

I understand the bondage, and the bisexuality.

Its who I am. The curve won’t happen if I keep my eye out for it,

But as I understand questions arise. Things pop into my mind. Fantasy or need? Want or have?

It is those questions that bother me, make me scared for myself. Not that I would do something stupid, so fucking stupid, like cheating. I’m not that type. Things have happened in the past that might have lead to it, but I never acted upon them in a manner that would destroy my relationship with my wife. Because of the bisexuality that we share, she does understand where I stand on my questions. Of the need for a same sex partner or not. Of the moments of feeling like I’m the most disturbing motherfucker in the world because of my needs, my wants.

But I’m normal. There are some things that are not normal, and those people need shot. Then burned, stabbed, and left to heal and done to again. Unless they like it. Then just kill them. And in my realization of my normality I take comfort from knowing that this is just part of me. This below is something that I find hot. 

Image

There are times that I wonder what my limit could or would be. I know that my limit isn’t the same as my fantasy limits. In my head thinking of naughty things I want done to me its safe. In the real world the smallest thing could trigger a panic. So while I want to push forward, see what we can do together I want to expand in some ways. The bondage is new to us, in my craving and need for it being accepted by me. See, my wife knew I was a switch and bi before I did. She is pure Domme, and what I need.

Image

As a switch my mind wanders, from wanting domme’d by Amanda to wanting to dom a man. I’d dom the right guy so hard its not even funny. But with the right guy I want to be dom/domme’d. But I could never dom my wife. I can’t do that to women. 

And as I delve deeper into the different aspects of FemDom, submissive males, and what not I realize that I am different from most. I love rope bondage, I love being domme’d hard. I love the idea of domming a man hard. But the pain, the cringe worthy things that people do bother me. For me, there is a difference between being domme’d hard and being hurt. The form of domme’d and bondage I need are more intimate forms of it. i want to be domme’d by her in ways that expel both our frustrations and stress, not just mine. Amanda the other night surprised me. She’s domme’d me before, and damn well.

Image

But she was getting turned on by it. I could hear her breathe deeper, erratically. I could sense her arousal at me being domme’d and loving it. She was turned on by my captivity. I’ve known for awhile that she is a Domme, but she came into her own right then. She did things that she’d never done before, and I wanted her to push me. Push me to limits, but as a Sub I couldn’t ask without ruining what I needed from her. So, afterwards we talked about what was awesome, what I wanted and need. 

And to me, that is a way to avoid the curve. Talk, discuss, work together. Because I want to never see the curve. That is the goal, well besides some really hot orgasms. To express and show our affection through the B/D/S, and every day life. Right now in our real lives things are insanely busy, crazy. It sucks, but we deal with it and make things as best as we can. But I have a few ideas in the next few months to make things better, make her smile. But, for now I’m gonna go think about some stuff. 

And I’m gonna avoid that Curve, that off the rails moment when things go crazy because the need to be domme’d. 

 

But god damn being domme’d and dom’d would be fucking hot.

The future battlefield

Image

 

The future of warfare is either cybernetic warriors, flesh and blood turned into chimera of flesh and machine… or full robotic warriors either under control of human pilots on foreign countries, or themselves. I think that this is an interesting crossroad. The US Army says that by 2023, robotic warriors will number 1 to 10. This doesn’t mean fully humanoid robots, but Boston Dynamics is working on them. The future robot warriors are going to be a mix of Atlas, BigDog, Cheetah, and even freakier, SandFlea.

While this isn’t a big concern right now, there will be a day in the future when in our country and in the future, it will be policed, protected, and populated by robotic warriors. Personally, I think that if the robots are basically avatars for human pilots it won’t be that big of deal. I can see a sea of robotic warriors walking, driving, and headed towards another robotic army instead of humans destroying themselves on the battlefield. 

By making our soldiers robotic there are downsides and benefits for everyone involved. I was thinking at work tonight about this, and it would be ethical include programming and directives that the RoboWarriors would use to prevent innocents dying on the battlefields of tomorrow. I personally think that the programming would have to include code to only allow gunfire to be used on other warriors, and severe punishments would be done for human pilots that intentionally harm or kill human civilians. There will always be an asshole in the group, and we have to actually plan for this. A truly robotic army would be difficult to maintain, upgrade, and protect. The costs would be too high for us to maintain an army like this for long, at least at our current level of robotic technology. There would still have to be ground crews performing maintenance, repairs, and what about the disabled or destroyed? Would we leave them there? Would it matter that the coda “No one gets left behind” wouldn’t matter? Would it be a mix of robotic and human warriors?

This wouldn’t be a simple solution, and with all the frustrations and outrage over drones flying overhead in foreign and domestic countries across the world I know that a future with robotic warriors would be difficult to request or require. Think about it, a small third world country decides that China or even Australian territories are to be contested, are we going to send in humans or an army of robot death machines to stomp the shit out of them? Ethically we would send human soldiers, but a less discerning country would send in the robots. This could be bad, very bad in the long run. A simple platoon of robotic warriors fighting people with crappy AK-47s would stomp the fuck out of those poor bastards. Granted, in the worlds eye, the country in question would look like the biggest assholes on Earth, but how long would the outrage last?

But ethically we can’t turn our soldiers into this:

Image

 

That would be Sektor from Mortal Kombat. It’s years further than what we could ever do in the next ten years, but what about twenty or thirty?

Is it ethical to turn man into machine? To combine man with machines to kill? Is it wrong to want to avoid cyborg warriors? Those three answers in my opinion is NO. You should only get cyborg upgrades if its elected or necessary to continue living. By turning man into machine, we have the RoboCop debate. Where does that machinery end and the humanity begin? Granted the public could be told that the cyborg upgrades were elective, but in the real world we know that it wouldn’t be. We don’t need a Halsey and another John 117 running around.

Cyborg fighters and robots are awesome in media, but the underlying ethical questions and debates are too great to ever consider putting cyborg boots to ground. We couldn’t risk the chance that our soldiers would not be impervious to cyber manipulation through hacks and malware. We couldn’t deal with the costs, even if our economy was perfect. The ethical and political debates would rage for years, even after we’d been using them.

But the most important thing? We don’t need them. As awesome that robot warriors on the battlefields sounds, we honestly don’t need them. We don’t have to fight in wastelands over irradiated shitholes that we can’t live on. We just don’t need them. But, it sounds like the major armies of the world are working towards a robotic army of death machines. And we’ll see what happens from the first time metal boots are in the fight.

How the hell?

Sometimes I’m lead down paths to insanity that can be momentary, or at worst prolonged. It can be a social, paranormal, emotional or a maze of other things.

I remember when I was with Amanda in the beginning and living in town with her family in a house. It was halloween, or near then. We had a person living with us and he was connected to other people and we’d go drink off and on.

So one night after stupid shit had gone down with the landlord of said house, Tommy the guy living with us took us out. Him and his friend Mike who had a car drove us out to get high.

Amanda had never smoked weed, but she took a hit. She coughed like mad and I got half stoned just from clambaking.

We had gone to a local lake ans were parked between two run off pita that were 80ft deep. As we sat there trying to discuss our issues, Amanda kept seeing a ghost press its face against her window. She convinced us to go, and we drove backroads for what felt like an eternity.

We were driving and missed the turn and went up this muddy road. We got stuck, and Tommy jumped out to push the car out. I got out and pushed, and looked back.

Remember Leatherface? Something walking down the lane looked like Leatherface. Me and Tommy screamed in terror, and got the car loose. We jumped in and Amanda and Mike were screaming in terror. We drove off, and that thing was still stumbling down the lane.

That is one of the most terrorizing memories I have, and it randomly pops up. Damn.

Relationships and bondage

I am a sub. A submissive, and I love it with in my limits. Light bondage and other things in that realm. But I have found a domme that fits me perfectly. My wife knows my limits and needs even better than I do.

And that goes for her too. I know what she wants and needs. I give what I can, and work towards what I can’t at this time. This isn’t love related things, but physical things. Money, a car, housing we can afford.

But bondage is like that too. You give what you can, even if its using makeshift items until you can buy something that is “official” or legitimate.

Because you make your relationships work. Because it doesn’t matter if its a wife or a best friend. You make it work as best you can so you both are satisfied.

Because if you don’t shit goes wrong and people get hurt. You have to. People need connections, solid connections to others. And if we don’t have connections we flounder.

Like a woman who doesn’t understand your need to be blindfolded and pinched, licked, or bitten… not having a connection breaks you. It makes you feel useless and weightless. You float until you find a glimmer of that woman you need, and you cling. But if you cling too hard, they run.

My wife didn’t run when I finally came out about needing to be dommed. She is a domme. Because in our everyday life, we don’t have much control over our lives and the outside influences.

Bills, not finding work, and other things like that can destroy you. Individually and connected.

And I feel like Amanda that we need to control everything. Even things we honestly can’t control. I need to be shown that I don’t need to be in control. I need to be pushed to my limits and taken properly over that.

Amanda, my Goddess, does that for me. She takes me to the limit and over it.

And in our relationship, it’s the same. Not just bad things going over the limit, but she shows me how much I can go through and still be me. And good things like two children and 13yrs together shows me just how much love I have for my family :’)

When my mom died, we were apart for over 2 months. She was at home while I was in Tennesee making sure my brothers were watched over by someone. The whole time I was down there she was convinced that I was never really coming back.

The hell I wasn’t! She and my son were in Ohio! Every night I stayed up talking to her on Yahoo chat, messenger ect. Then Id crash after my brothers got off to school. Then Id do things to take care of my moms stuff. And it was a cycle. And so many times I fell asleep crying because she was convinced that I was cheating or lying.

But I wasn’t. And I eventually came home to her and my son.

And it got better. And bad things happend. And a cycle grew. But now that I’m open about my bisexuality (whether or not I explore it, its important she knew) and my bondage needs things are on track.

So, relationships and bondage are two sides of the same coin.

You give as much as you can, ever knowing the limits. You love as much as you can and feel those limits grow with you and your lover.

And being blindfolded and fucked silly is fun too.