Broken Wings

I started an oil pastel drawing today. This is the first time I have ever tried to seriously portray something non-abstract.
I think it might actually look good, though I am reluctant to say that because as soon as I take pride in it I'm sure someone will come along and just rip me to shreds for being pleased at creating something that isn't as awesome as I'd thought. I'd much rather think it's awful and someday maybe someone will say something nice about it and then I can be happy in my brain. Anyway, it's not finished. It's a part of the mountain across the river, and the sun went down too soon for me to even consider starting the river-part of the drawing.
Also, my sleeves are nearly finished. I would like to have them done by tonight, for I only have seven inches of stockinette to complete [two extra inches than the pattern for my arms are looooo-o-ong] and then the shoulder cap, and then unravelling dropped stitches. Which makes me nervous, but the book seems to think I can handle it. We'll see what happens.
Story of O is progressing in mentally thwacking ways. It makes nothing but complete sense to me, O's realizations that not only is she a possession, an object, in a sense a slave, she is grateful to be treated as such because it gives her meaning. To receive punishments, to be whipped for no reason but her master's pleasure, to be "readily available", these things mean everything to her because they reaffirm who she is.
It's true that being objectified is pleasant. To be viewed in such a light as deemed worthy to make an object of says in itself that you are wanted, and you are wanted for a purpose. Being the object that meets the necessity of one you love, that's even better. I love my subservient qualities; I enjoy providing pleasure to others with little to no regard for my own. I can understand that some women find this shocking and pathetic, but I think the same of them and their pursuits. These are women who do not understand the difference between being the object of someone who views women as toys and uses them accordingly and of being the possession of someone who loves the woman he owns and is thankful that she gratefully and willingly acquiesces to his whims, thus showing her love in return.
But that's enough.
Mashed po-ta-toes time, and knitting. MUST FINISH SLEEVES. MUST BLOCK SLEEVES. Omg. It's almost done.