me

It's been one of those perfect days. Apart from a few errands mid-morning (like ordering the corsage for my youngest son's girl to worn on her wrist to the formal school dance, which i delighted in doing for him) i've been in writerly mode all day, completely alone.

A few of my fellow students have been commenting on my writing lately. One fellow student said that i write in a stream of consciousness way but remain logical and ordered in my thinking. Another student said today that my passion for writing was apparent and that she felt I was writing in a new way.

i thought about that. This is academic writing we're talking about. i'm aware i have to follow guidelines and criteria and i'm aware that i prefer to inject something of myself into any type of writing i do, but i wasn't aware of writing in a stream of consciousness way for school and i wasn't aware that it was anything new.

Now, here, on this web journal, that's not important. What is important is the analogy i draw between my style of writing and my style of submission, or, the way i think about myself in terms of my desire to be dominated.

For a long time now there's been the girl, Vesta, if you will, and cindi, the bimbo. When my mind is filled with worry and things to do, the girl has won over the bimbo. It's rational (or irrational, if you like) thought and it's not particularly sexually arousing for me or anyone around me.

Then, there's the bimbo who hasn't a care in the world; who wants use and plenty of it; who caves in at the slightest sign of the dominant's displeasure; who has a dirty, whore-like mind.

It's been like living on a see-saw. When bimbo reigns, it's all up. It's all good. It all works. When the girl has her way and poor bimbo has to hide, there's a whole other mindset. It's mostly down; mostly a pining for better, smaller, teeny tiny days when the bimbo knows her place at the bottom. Thinking and writing can completely absorb me. i know i must write. Yet, when the day is done, i must also return to a part of me that is waiting to play; to shine; to impress; to be saved all over again.

i've been mulling over this idea, as if it were some sort of revelation when in fact it is quite obvious to the observer, i am sure, that the girl and the bimbo are both me. Duh.

Well, of course i knew that on one level but, trust me, if you were in my head you'd see that it is easy to forget that. When cindi isn't expressed she feels a million miles away from me. It's like a twin. If she is not well and content, then neither are you. You just...pine away.

It occurred to me today that just as i am learning that my style of writing is a stream of consciousness writing that simply requires craft to be altered for circumstances, so my true identity is cindi. Now, sometimes she needs to be expressed in a way that is more suitable for the academy, or the establishment or the real world. But, cindi, i am, at all times.

People learn when they learn. It's taken ages for me to really get this simple fact. But, I've got it now. Hooray!  This isn't just about my mindset. This is pertinent to everything: the way i think, the way i go through my days; my body; what i wear; how i feel; my sense of self; my happiness.

The true me is a vessel. i need to be filled in all sorts of ways. i radiate in dominant energy and i provide submissive support in a very natural way that brings pleasure all round. i can write. i can plan. i can lead a full life. But, i'm always bimbo; always cindi; always at peace with myself, so long as i can remember this.