Taught to the Tune of a Hickory Stick

Well, college has begun again. I'm taking 18 credits, working part time, talking to College Guy long into the night hours so that I that I get small amounts of sleep (nudge, nudge), and thus, it's been a week since I've posted. I am committed to this blog, however, so although the length of posts may shorten (hmm..that might not ever happen), I will try to keep posting at least once a week, and I will continue to read others' blogs. I don't know if I could stand not to.


The first week back to school has been overwhelming, but I've managed to keep college in its proper realm and focus on what is important in life.


For example, my Logic prof was lecturing on premises, conclusions, and how to distinguish non-arguments from arguments.


(Slight pause while Bonnie-jo digs out her lecture notes and tries to find the spot that she wants to talk about. ) Okay, so it was only day two in Logic, and I probably don't have this completely understood. Basically, we talked about arguments in which the conclusion is implied but not stated.


Our Logic prof gave this example: "If your mom walks into your room and says 'This room is going to be cleaned by one of us, and I'm telling you now, I'm not going to clean this room!' , what is the implied conclusion?" Most of the class obediently answered, "I'm going to clean the room," while a few rebels muttered, "No way, no way..."


I, however, was trying to think up my own, more creative examples. I came up with two:


             *College Guy has somehow cajoled me over his thigh as he sits against the bed's headboard, Gepetto (the bath brush) in hand. "You can tell me what's going on in your head, Bonnie-jo. Or I can continue this all night long. We've got about 11 hours until checkout."


             * "I know you probably feel horrible about what you did. We'll talk about this. "---My Magician


Then in the auditoreum for my Astronomy class, I couldn't help but notice how sliding past people's knees to get to my seat makes me imagine what would happen if someone slid his legs out a bit, and I happened to trip...and whoopsie...a spanking in astronomy class....Sigh...yeah, I know that was a stretch.


Then, in my British Lit. class, we were studying an abolitionist text, in which the horrors and brutalities of various whippings were described. I'm not discrediting the absolute evil of what happened to these people. At least, I do not mean to. Still, I found it oddly embarrassing to participate in my groups discussion. And, in all actuality, this entire experience makes me angry at myself.


I'm not saying that spankings don't hurt, but I want them. I want the pain. These people had no choice. And, mostly, I hate that the thought of the horror they experienced is a springboard for my own, more comforting thoughts. These are the moments when I do feel a bit sicko-ish.


When I read or hear about people who have been abused and tortured, my mind will quickly flit to my own experiences with "torture". But I know this is simply a coping mechanism. Since I was about 10 years old and heard about "martyrs for Christ" and about how you "can't deny Jesus", I've worried and feared torture.


And in a way, although my attraction to it runs so much deeper on many different levels, spanking is a way for me to deal with my fear of pain. After a spanking, I feel like I can handle anything life throws at me. Particularly after a hard spanking dealt by My Magician, I feel like I've conquered something weighty, and anything else I come up against in life will be small potatoes.


But a spanking offers no more than psychological protection. There is (usually) no real blood. There is definitely no chance of death, or rape, or even broken bones. I have no idea what real abuse is like.


So...before I continue on that ponderous trail, I will close by assuring you I'm paying attention in class for the most part...just remembering what's important in life too. :)