On the weekend I had the unfortunate pleasure of watching “Flower and Snake”. You might remember that I listed it as a movie I really wanted to see in a post a couple of months ago and several of you promptly selected it on NetFlix, promising to let me know how it was….
But no-one did.
So I had to watch it myself.
And now I know why no one let me know how it was.
Every time I watch a Japanese movie there is a part of me that hopes and prays it will be different to every other Japanese movie I’ve seen – terribly, horribly over-acted, featuring uncomprehensible plotlines and/or characters and just really embarassing to watch. I even thought that the premise of the movie – chick ‘sold’ to yakuza dudes, tortured with shibari and forced to be a sex toy in the Colliseum of Pleasure – might make it, dare I say it, an entertaining cinematic experience. But ‘alas…my record for really bad Japanese movies remains intact.
Why didn’t somebody warn me????
And before I get flamed by the throngs of anime fans, I’m not including anime when I’m referring to ‘movies’. There’s a lot of anime that I like -mostly Miyazaki stuff – that is fabulous. What I don’t understand is how a country that can make such wonderful anime, make such crap movies???? Can anyone explain it to me???
*end of rant*
Ok…in other news, it’s been 7mths since I became a working girl. Wow. That’s a really scary thought. My 8-week temping stint to get some pocket money back in May turned into a full-time job that is still, for better or for worse, continuing. At the moment, the only thing that is getting me through each day is my mandatory dose of James Spader. In the episode of Boston Legal I just watched, he was offering to “de-base” his co-worker ….*fans self*… Jamie boy could de-base me anytime he wanted.
If your job is so crap, why don’t you get another one? I hear you all say.
Simply for the reason that it’s too easy just to get up, do my job, come home, sleep, get up and do it all over again x 9 and find money sitting in the bank at the end of the fortnight. I might be tempted to call it apathy, others might say that I’m just in my comfort zone, but what I’m really interested in is the ‘line’ that would need to be crossed before I would throw up my arms in defeat and leave. At what point would I say, ‘I can’t do this anymore’ ?
Two years and three months ago, I remember sitting on the lounge, crying and saying to Master, ‘I can’t do this anymore’. The details of why it happened are a bit fuzzy, but I remember feeling so impossibly overwhelmed, so pulled in opposing directions, that I knew it was ‘beyond me’ to continue. It was very early in our relationship and still at a time when I was adapting, changing and trying to understand who Master was and what he wanted. I also remember feeling that I was somehow lacking as a slave because ‘I couldn’t do it all’. I felt very worthless, very sad and very empty.
It has taken me a lot to realise that I don’t have to do it all. I don’t have to be perfect in everything I do. The reality is that I have limits both mental and physical ones and sometimes there is a point where I ‘can’t do it anymore’. Those are the times I need some space, some support and some time to find my slave feet again, a chance to find what I ‘can do’ . Every time I get up after being knocked off my proverbial ‘slave block’, I get up, slightly to the left or right or where I was standing before I fell over, but generally I’m a lot steadier on my feet after the fall.
I’m a little bit against people calling themselves a slave but stating that they ‘won’t do a,b,c,d,e,f…..etc’. Stating you won’t do something because you either don’t like it or don’t enjoy it kind of defeats the purpose of being a slave. Although I know there are some things that I can’t do, I will always try and physical limitations are things that should be understood by both parties as a matter of safety. For example, Master knows not to let me get too cold, not to have me wear gags for long periods and he will generally take into account if I’m plaguing or have a sore back or something else. It’s not that I’m lacking as a slave, it’s just him taking care of his property.
Perhaps I haven’t reached that saturation point in my job yet. Perhaps that point of ‘no return’ is still ahead of me, or perhaps I passed it long ago and just got up, dusted the dirt off and got back into position, but just slightly to the left.