The perfect job

There is a secret to happiness in life. Several of them, in fact. But the one that has always rang the truest for me is the one about how to find the perfect job.

The goal, essentially, is to find something that you love to do, and then find someone to pay you to do it. Or, more simply, to con someone into paying you to play.

We all have our own definitions of play. And that's fine. The idea is just to get paid to do it. Not everyone can manage that. How many people think of janitorial work as play? Or accounting? Or retail? Maybe some people do; I don't know. But there are probably some jobs that are just jobs, that people do because they need the money, and not because they love it (like telemarketing).

What makes a brilliant moron

People often ask me why I chose the moniker of Brilliant Moron. They ask why I call myself an idiot, and why I say I'm smart. To save time, I thought I would answer it all at once. In reverse order.

Why I say I'm smart
Well, because I am. I'm well educated (2 MAs and a PhD), but I'm also very clever. Unfortunately, there isn't really a way to MEASURE intelligence outside of education, and as you all know, I think education is a bad standard. You should only get as much education as you need.

BDSM, self destruction, and the stupidity of labels

I've seen a whole lot lately of people accusing one another of being 'fake' or of not being a 'true' submissive/dominant/whatever based on what that person is interested in. This is not a new phenomena, but it saddens me.

If I can get meta for just a second... I'd like to remind everyone that we are a subculture. We are a group that is looked down upon, that is marginalized and seen as 'other'; even outside of the simple sexual preferences, those of us who identify as 'kinky' are different. And unlike being simply queer, we can't exactly come out of the closet.

Is there an equivalent to 'fag hag' for lesbians?

Maybe it's my inherent desire for a more dominant partner, maybe it's the lack of sexual concern or misconception, but I really like lesbians.

Yes, I wish more lesbians were willing to make an exception, but that's not why I like hanging out with them. I'm not hoping they'll change their minds. I more think they're interesting, they're the kind of people I want to hang out with.

And they're nice. To me, at least.

What if it were possible to commit suicide temporarily?

As you all know by now, I have a problem with depression. Most of the time, I handle it well enough between therapy, drugs, and of course unloading my deepest personal thoughts on an unsuspecting audience, like all of you.

But there are times when it gets bad. Times when it gets bad enough that all I want is for things to stop. For the pressure of the world, the needs of my life, the constraints of my schedule, to just stop. It's not about trying to find escapism. I can find escapism. I mean completely stopping.

The A to Z of fetish

Okay... What follows is a lengthy fantasy. It's meant to take place over a period of more than a week, and that is how I wrote it. I present it here in its entirety though.
Please comment. Especially if you like it.

So subtle you're invisible

Once, someone told me that I couldn't subtly manipulate my way out of a paper bag. I was at the same time offended and pleased. Offended, because he might be right, and pleased, because he was probably wrong.

I can be subtle. I can be very subtle. What I have trouble with, though, is a little subtle. At the time that comment was made, I could either be so subtle that you would have absolutely no idea, or so blatant that it was like hitting you with a large fish. Either way, extreme was the only way I knew how.

I've learned since then. I've learned the art of manipulation, the subtlety of word choice, of communication. I've learned nonverbal cues, to read and to project them. I've made a study of subtlety.

But sometimes, I still get it wrong. I try to be subtle, but to let someone know, and I end up overshooting. I try to give hints about something, but the hints are in code, or hidden inside other comments. I keep hinting and hinting, feeling like I'm practically giving them a sign, but that sign is in another language. And another room. In the dark.

Usually, this happens when I'm dealing with sex and potential partners. I don't like to be too blunt, and so I end up being too subtle. I aim for aloof, and I land on invisible.

It's distracting and disappointing.

And I'm doing it again. Look back at this post. What was I saying again?