The Plan

One of the things I’m wanting to accomplish is re-establish my life and career. While I’ve loved being with Master, loved being in his home, I’ve also missed being in the medical field. Even now, after three years of being away from it, the phlebotomist in me still drools when I see good, firm veins in a person’s arm.

So my plan is this: Get a couple jobs, take care of a few lingering debts (owing money’s always nagged at my psyche..must be the Aquarian blood), get a vehicle & a little savings, then get some further education under my belt; and get a decent job where I can really firmly establish myself. One of the local hospitals here has got an excellent surgical technician program that I want to enter. And I’m wasting no time in doing this.

Men, another Master? Maybe. Someday. If I can find one I can look up to, who can both understand and discuss Aeschylus, baseball, and Shakespeare; all in the same conversation. For now, though, I’m just going to follow my own agenda.

Oh, and the dancing. I want to learn to dance; both country and belly-dance.

To do this, I’ve started working two jobs. As with most of what I do, there’s more than one reason. #1 is $$$. The more I earn, the sooner I can get things taken care of. #2 is simply to keep my mind occupied. I am practicing the old, tried & true method of burying one’s self in work.

You’d think that I’d be over Master by now. It’s been a month and a half. I still miss him keenly. I still feel alien to the environment I’m in; perhaps I always will. At times it’s really startling, seeing myself do everything that I’ve done in the past six weeks. It’s not easy. I’m dealing with a reality that I never imagined while being with Master. Never once did it enter my head that we’d ever be apart. That simple fact affects everything I do these days. We were, in many ways, one person. Neither of us whole without the other. I was what he’d wanted, an extension of his will. And the separation is something I feel will always be painful, though there’s a part of me that never wants to be over him. And that is something else I need to get over before I can move on as far as relationships go.

So, for now, it’s two jobs; 40 hours a week at one, 25 (give or take) at the other. Keep my diet and exercise up (I’ve re-gained a bit during this time), keep my spirits up, re-establish myself. Make new friends. Slip the dancing in whenever I can. And remember that despite everything, I’m as much a kajira as I’ve ever been.

shayla

Whore

Last night I was going out with Kathy (the friend who I’m staying with), and her fiancé Will. It’d been a warm day, and I was in my cut-offs, a tank top, and sandals. Though by 7:30, it was cold & windy, so I had my arms wrapped around myself and was focusing on not shivering. As we were walking into the restaurant we passed by two women going in the opposite direction. One of them said to her friend, ‘that girl looks like a whore.’ As distracted as I’d been, it didn’t even register what they’d said until I got into the warm. And then the gears started turning.

Whore? Oh, the things that I could have come up with to respond to that.

‘Thank you!!’

‘You should see Master’s other girl.’

‘I look much better when I’m dressed to go out.’

‘At least I’ve got manners enough not to comment on a stranger’s appearance’ (both the women were a bit heavy).

‘I’m glad you noticed.’

‘It’s good to know that I still look that way.’

Of course, I didn’t say any of those things. Nor would I have done so at the time the comment was made. In spite of my self-doubt and soul-searching, wondering at what/who I really am, one thing I do know is that I’m still every bit as much of a kajira as I ever have been.

And I’d given them the most appropriate response a kajira in that situation could have; I disregarded the statement entirely (at least in their presence) and smiled at them.

In my opinion, there’s nothing wrong with being a slut or whore. To me, that simply means that a woman’s not afraid of her sexuality. She’s not one to hide it, but lets it show as simply another part of what she is. That’s not to say that she doesn’t respect herself or take care of herself. It's when she starts losing that respect for herself that cheapens her and being a slut or whore. And that's when she starts becoming what is now the stereotypical idea of being a slut or whore. Taking care of one’s self and respecting what you are is part of being a slut, part of being a kajira.

Shayla

Alien

It’s been a few weeks since I left Master. There’ve been some ups and downs, a lot of self-reflection and really looking at what I am, what I want in life. I’ve taken a good look at how I want to do things, how I want to restructure my life.

But part of my difficulty’s been in observing all the other women and relationships in the world, and how men approach me. It’s really surprising, I’d not ever noticed it as clearly as I am now.

One of the first things I’ve noticed is the couples, the maneuvering and power plays that they consider to be ‘normal’, while I wouldn’t normally think of it. Yes, at my worst, I’ve done my own share of maneuvering. And when I pulled my head out of my ass and really looked at how I was behaving with my Master, I was every bit as shocked and ashamed at myself. And did my utmost to keep it from happening, though I slipped far more than what I’d like to think about.

Women that I work with will sit and complain about how their husbands don’t share the load, getting upset over (to me) the most trivial things. One lady I work with morphed an innocent comment about men wearing pink into a political statement, talking down about men in the process (personally, I believe that only a man who is uncomfortable in his own masculinity would be at all uncomfortable wearing pink). And everywhere there’s women being jealous about their men, talking to them in public in a manner I can’t even conceive of. A friend of mine opens doors for me and calls me ma’am. I know that he respects me as the woman I am and is simply treating me accordingly. Ok, he’s Southern, Cajun to boot, which just adds to the genteel manners, but that ‘ma’am’ always sends shivers up my spine.

I’m not making an attempt to judge, merely pointing out my surprise at the difference. This is the world we live in & everyone’s different. Really different. I’m the different one, radically so. It’d never really come home to me just how until I’ve been out here. I offer to help out at my friend’s, however she or her fiancée might need. Try to ensure that I’m doing the honorable thing, in whatever I’m doing, and do my best to keep my integrity the way it should be. Mind my own business and not poke my nose in where it’s not invited. But what’s interesting is just how different I am than the rest of the women in today’s society.

The trip to Los Angeles was a perfect example. Yes, Rick’s wife’s ill. But even then, I still saw to it that Rick was taken care of before I ever took care of myself. Did as he requested of me without question (he’s like Master, he doesn’t ‘command’, merely requests. Similar to a General ‘asking’ a Private to get him a cup of coffee), paid attention to what he was saying. No disrespect to Rick’s wife, or any other woman, simply a difference between free women and I.

shayla

Down side

This being away from Master’s got its ups and downs. Right now I’m having a very down evening. I’ve got a good job, have close friends who’re supporting me in what I’m doing. I’m well on the way to getting myself re-established.

And at the same time I feel so isolate from everything I know, as if I’m in an entirely different world than what I’m used to. Even the food’s radically different. Everything is changed. Master’s told me a few times that sometimes life is like being in a big lake, lots of outlets, plenty of options, and time to make your choice in what you want to go. And in others it’s like going down rapids, only enough time to react, with no thought as to what’s coming or what’s behind you, and no option except to just ride it out.

That’s what I’m feeling right now, as if things are going too fast to slow down or even look around. I’m doing fine, and I’ll keep on doing fine. Only at the same time I feel as though I’ve lost a limb (or perhaps a head). As if something vitally important is missing. I feel as though I’m cut off from everything I’ve ever known, and the path I’m on is taking me further away from it. And I have an awfully strong feeling of just wanting to go back home, forget all this & just go back to what I’m familiar with. Remember me mentioning homesickness? It’s hitting hard at this stage. Right now I’m scared as hell and just want to sit by myself with a book and not come out of my room until this episode's passed. Which I think I just might do.

shayla

The Menagerie

Keri’s place is outside of Houston. If you visualize a clock, I’ve moved from about 12:00 to 9:00, though I’m still about the same distance from the downtown area. But it’s a whole different world out here. There’s a good deal of acreage and farmland. Keri’s property’s about 3 acres, and her mother lives in the house next door.

When I came out here, I knew there’d be Keri’s horses, a dog or three. But I missed a few critters. I live with a macaw that keeps laying (sterile) eggs, a parakeet, four pure-bred registered Yorkshire terriers, and a Rott/Chow cross that thinks he’s a Yorkie. Keri’s three horses, three cats, and two dogs (one of the dogs, I think, could qualify as a small horse) add to the miniature zoo. Oh, and did I mention Nemo, the red beta? They’re all over the place (except the fish), going from one house to the other with the same casualness as the humans do. Though Keri’s house-cat considers the Yorkies cat-toys, and treats them accordingly.

This, apparently, is typical in this area. The neighbor has another four dogs (I’ve yet to be introduced to them). One morning while I was taking my walk, I managed to accumulate a pack of four dogs, originating from three different houses. I didn’t know a one of them, they just decided to escort me a while. I’ve got no idea how that managed to happen, though I did succeed in shooing them all home.

Only it gets worse. Keri’s good friend Roxi lives in Katy, which isn’t very far from here. She’s got another five dogs and two cats. And all the canines go stark raving mad with glee anytime they hear someone come to the house. So regardless of where I go, I’m surrounded by at least two dogs at any one time. Roxi actually has one female that has recently had a litter of pups, four of them. They’re all comfortably ensconced in a play-pen, dive-bombing into their rice cereal and being adorable. Every time we go to Roxi’s there’s another story of what the puppies did.

It’s been quite a learning experience. I’ve always been a cat person, so I’m partial to the cats. Quiet, reserved, introspective. All these crazy dogs have been a real shock. There was a short period of time where I thought I’d go crazy with all these yapping jumping canines everywhere I turned. But now I’m seriously considering absconding with one of the Yorkies when I move out.

The Yorkie pups, by the way, are for sale..$1500 a pop…err..pup. They’re already registered, and are pure-blue-blooded Yorkshire Terriers (in miniature). Drop me a line if you’re at all interested.

shayla

Hmmm

Alright, this is probably odd to be talking about this at this stage, but it’s too funny to not write about while it’s fresh in my mind.

We did some rearranging in our office Friday, and i was now sitting next to a lady that I’d only met in passing once or twice. I was wearing jeans and my sandals (ok, they’re 3-inch heels, & not near as flashy as some of the ladies’ shoes that day). Late in the day, while i was walking back to my desk, she took a look at me and then commented, ‘you walk funny!!’ She then swaggered away and walked back, mimicking how i walked.

Walk funny? How? Admittedly, when i first came to Houston, i walked ‘like a truck driver’, swagger and all. It’s been some time since i’ve moved like that.

While in Los Angeles back in September, traffic slowed down as i was walking down the street in my cut-offs and sandals, and i got any number of catcalls & car honks as well. A co-worker, not five minutes before this lady made her comment, complimented me on how i was walking. More than once i’ve had men compliment me on how i walked, one man going so far as to say that i had ‘the prettiest walk he’d ever seen’.

And this girl is telling me that i walked funny? It was absolutely laughable. I just smiled, and said that i’d been complimented any number of times about how i walk, and what could possibly be the problem? It’s almost too bad we were in the workplace, though. “I walk like a slut, what’s the possible problem with that? I am a slut!” is what i was really tempted to say to her. Sometimes being PC is awfully inconvenient.

After i got off work i gave Master Rick a call to share it with him. It was just too funny not to share with someone who understood my stance on the matter. He laughed every bit as hard as i had, saying that i should have said, “I walk pleasingly.” The whole thing is laughable.

shayla

Starting Point

If you’re reading this, you’ve either stumbled upon this blog, or have followed a link to it. Either way, welcome.

I’ve been with my Master for over two years. In that time, there’s been a great deal of growth, a great deal of love and happiness. Why I am no longer with him is immaterial for this entry, or any others. It was just something that needed to be done. Either way, Master is still standing on what he’s said. I’m welcome back at any time, whether that be for a night or for the remainder of our lives.

Leaving has been both hard and necessary. It’s been a little over three weeks since I’ve left, and at times it’s still awfully hard to deal with. I miss him, miss the home that I came from. Homesickness has been nagging me on various levels continuously. The nights have been long and empty. Master’s feet are no longer available to curl up next to when I’m feeling uncertain or need some contact. Strangely enough the knowledge that he’d welcome me back without any question has helped motivate me to continue on the path that I’m on, and comforted me when I’m very scared or uncertain.

There have been one or two people who’ve given me the old cliché, ‘you’ll find somebody else’. Ha. I’m sure I will. Even now, not even a month after leaving my Master’s home, I’ve got four separate men that are actively interested in me. All good catches on various levels. All men that I could walk all over if I chose. For some reason that fact is extremely deflating, killing whatever interest I might otherwise have in them. I have no interest in finding another man. Much of this is because the separation is still fresh, but another is simply that I don’t want to. At this stage, I feel ‘why bother, how could you possibly measure up after who’s owned me for all this time?’ Being in a relationship with another man is something that I’m nowhere near ready for. But that’s something I’ll deal with at a later time.

As it is, things are going well, though slowly. My new life has gotten off to a good start. A long-time friend, who I actually met through Master, has allowed me a place, where I can stay as long as I need or want to, rent-free, with access to a vehicle whenever I need one. I’ve got a good job, where I was hired three days after I left my Master. Luck, I’m sure, played a big part of that, but I also know that I’d not have been hired if I wasn’t able to do the job. And I’ve got a plan, which I fully intend on sticking to. It’ll take two or three years to play out, but I’m going to stick to my guns. When Master and I discussed my leaving, one of the things he said was that I’ve always put everyone else first, and not really done anything for myself. So this period in my life is going to be for myself. Narcissistic? I don’t think so. Merely a period of healing and re-rooting myself, so that I can get firmly established in life again.

I’ve always maintained that my soul is at my Master’s feet. And through this separation, I still feel that way. Much of me will always belong to him.

shayla