Earlier today Master and I took a little road trip to Burlington to investigate purchasing a paint ball gun. Our excursion ended much better than I believe Master anticipated for he eventually found a gun, a rather real life looking gun and after much thought and contemplation purchased his new toy. The purpose of this paint gun is not to go out onto a field and rough it up with a group of men and or women, splattering each other in brightly coloured paint. Nope. Not my Master. Masters motive for finding such a specific toy is to eventually use it on the young woman. Last night during an exchange between my Master and the young woman, the idea of being pelted by a paint ball gun came to life and the thought of having one of those hard balls hit her mound made the young woman extremely curious and in turn created a quest for Master to fulfill.

Unlike Master and the young woman though, I have no curiousity towards guns, of any kind and in fact I do not like guns at all. One could say I loathe them. I did not always feel this way, granted I was never enamored with them but I respected them as an instrument, a tool for hunting for protection. My dislike for guns grew later in life, through experiences I have encountered from my previous job. In all honesty guns terrify me. I have had a gun pointed at my forehead, cocked, loaded, ready to be fired. I have felt the handle of a gun hit the back of my head causing me to stumble to the ground, feeling the cool trickle of my blood dripping down my neck. One crazy intense night I even had the barrel of a gun rest between my eyes, the trigger pulled but thankfully no bullets were left. The memories of those events rarely creep up into my life; however, today as Master and I entered the paintball store I experienced a slide show of my not-so-popular-moments and I was surprised at just how intense my emotions were. At one point I pushed myself to touch one of the guns, one that looked just like a real gun and feeling it in my hands, the weight of it made me shiver. I could not put it down fast enough.

Although Master was involved in his conversation with the owner of the store, listening to every detail about the gun, how it works, how to take it apart I also know he was constantly watching me, paying close attention to my feelings, my reaction. Before Master made his purchase he asked me three times if I was okay. I knew my comfort level with regards to the gun was/is incredibly important to Master as he is very aware of my history and I appreciated that Master took the time to check with me. Still, as much as I dislike guns, the hard cold truth is, a paint ball gun is not a real gun and part of moving past memories is by embracing that which scares us. With that said, I have no intention of using a gun, using the paint ball gun. I find guns to be ugly, to be violent and I simply do not want an instrument that I consider violent to be in my hands. Could this change? Absolutely. But until my feelings graduate from loathing to not loathing I shall stand back and smile as I witness Master enjoying his new weapon.

Besides the idea of having a paint ball gun in the house I must confess I am surprised at how fast it all happened. I mean, the two of them were only talking about it last night and now suddenly it is a reality. I think today really emphasized just how quickly everything is moving. I have always known that Master is a fast mover. Once he has an idea he wants to execute it and I think that is a great approach. (And I think the young woman is a little like Master in that regard.) I am not quite like that though. I truly am the turtle. I like to keep a nice pace, not too fast, not completely slow, just steady. And the exchange, the experiences with the young woman feel as though they are moving at warp speed. Not to say that this pace is negative, I just think I am having a hard time catching up.

There seems to be an over abundance of stimulation with regards to playing with the young woman. Master appears to be ignited and I find that everywhere we go, no matter what we are looking at his eyes widen with excitement and his creative mind begins to develop new toys, more toys, trying hard to find that perfect toy which will give the young woman a shock, something that will make her think twice before asking for it. I have felt this overwhelming sensation a few times with Master, each time while in Home Depot or Rona. (Truly those are Masters new playgrounds.) Today was no exception, only today was the first day I identified it. Previously I just thought I was tired but today as Master grabbed item after item, testing it against his thigh as he slapped himself I realised exactly what caused my mind to go a little fuzzy.

I know that I am the type of person who likes to know what is happening, who is in a constant state of planning; however, I believe that the wealth of information I have acquired over the past two weeks is simply overwhelming me and I feel a little drained. The pace in which everything has transpired is happening at light speed and I am simply not that quick. In many ways I feel over exposed with regards to emotions, stimulation, sensations. And this is not a fault. It merely is what it is. I do not want Master to stop including me when he thinks of wicked toys; I do not want Master to withhold his thoughts about what he wants to do, to experience. Nor do I want the young woman to stop. I think I just have to let myself catch up with everything.

~His

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