The Rule Is...

Rules.

They carry a lot of weight—a lot of direction.

As a people we choose to be bound by them to help maintain a sense of structure in our society. And, the dirty hippies among us choose to rebel against the unjust and absurd of those. It's what was do.

And, so, when Brisk declares that "The rule is..." there is something inside my brain that just twinges.

But not the way you think.

I positively adore rules. The more absurd the better. There is something about someone else decreeing that something is someway and there is nothing I can do about it that just works for me. I love giving my control over to someone, and knowing that at any point I can violate the rule and there aren't really any repercussions, and yet still choosing to be bound by the rules.

Brisk has rules. He lives and dies by them. He sets them, and frequently they are regarding my behavior. And, I conform.

Last night we were talking about something and he said, "I can't really make you do that." To which I replied, "I'm surprised you haven't figured out the thing with me and rules yet." And then I found myself giving him the keys to the kingdom. We'll see what he does with them.