A familiar dream

I had a dream that I worked for Elon Musk directly. The work was infiltrating and inspecting companies that he owns or has partial stake in. I had parted ways with him amicably to go work for another company but was now bored with that work. I had mastered all of the pieces of a pretty complicated system after a few years and was bored again. I’d stopped working for Musk partially because the work had become too dangerous. But in my current state of boredom it made sense to call him up and see if he had any piece work he needed done. He did. There is a company that was building a underground cargo hauling business. Not underground in the illegal sense but literally underground. They were 200 feet down carving through the bedrock a network of tunnels to haul goods without having to mess about with terrain features, other people, weather issues, speed limits and other problems. It was a huge outlay of time and resources with no immediate or short to mid term profit prospects and it was amazing. He needed me to get into the tunnels and make sure the workers were motivated and that management was not intentionally dragging its feet. I got in and found that the delay was that they had found jade and fossils. They had already routed around the fossils and were looking for a route around the jade. I broke into the office and was going through the paper work when the owner of this company broke through the locked door before I could make good my escape through the side tunnels; He knew me from years before and knew that he was being audited. On the verge of a breakdown he asked what he was doing wrong; what he could fix. I assured him that there was nothing wrong. This was a inspection and they happen at all of Musk’s companies. He doesn’t go in for sending in corporate teams. “Give people time to prepare and even if they don’t mean to, they will end up lying to you,” is what Elon always says. The fossils and the jade are good things. We can route a side tunnel to the fossils and bring in archeologists and that will bring some good publicity should we need it. Plus advancing knowledge is what Elon is all about. The jade is just good business, we mine that and use the profits to offset the costs. Plus with the markets in jade cut off right now due to political unrest we will basically own the market. This venture will see profits for a few quarters which will please the money men that Elon is working with.

Of course, I’m highlighting here, the dream included things like the feel of the tunnels; the steam and the heat, and the infiltration was more harrowing than I am writing but in the dream it was something I had done many times before. Including a backdoor escape route that involved a hidden egress point that the miners did not know about that led to a natural cave system that allowed retreat. But that all felt like old hat. Something that I had done before and not really worth mentioning.

I counseled the owner and calmed him down then left in the normal way. On getting back to my car I find Mr. Musk’s general troubleshooter waiting at the car with a job offer. I was to infiltrate and gain access to something. I say something because I don’t recall what it was. Just that it was important and that I had a plan to get in. I invited some friends in the business. Quasilegal inspection teams being something that does occur at the levels we were playing in. Part infiltration expert, part forensic accountant, part engineer, we were rare but not unknown and the work was always interesting. I was setting up the job and infiltrating a secondary target with the team to find out how we worked together. Then I woke up.

Rambling thoughts on healing

The thought that we must save ourselves is the bitterest, most hurtful lie. We must be willing to work towards our own bright future this is true. But that we must do it alone, that we must depend on no one, that others must not act on our behalf, must not shoulder part of the burden, must not love. That is base falseness. It is a lie we embrace because our pain tells us it is true. And like all good lies, it has the ring of truth to one who’s hearing is distorted.

We believe it because we are wounded animals, bitten by those who came all false caring before. Who hurt and took and broke and wrought. So when another comes, and wears the face we think we know, we tell ourselves “not now. Not yet. I need to heal before I can try, I can’t let others close, I must heal on my own.” But is this prudence or fear? A little fear is wise, a bit of caution warranted. But hide away and wait as if some point will make you less broken.

I tell you a truth now. Perhaps it is merely my truth, perhaps it is more. The truth is, you will never fully heal on your own. You don’t see all of the places you are broken. You can’t know all of the pieces that are missing and you cannot build without materials that are not found within.
Someone must help. Don’t follow fears council for too long; don’t allow yourself the luxury of building walls. Do not trap yourself. Healing is ever so much harder than we think.

And alone? It’s a long, impossible road. One you may never see the end of. Nor beginning of a new one.

Love is door and lock and key

I have a theory that I have seen played out over and over again in my life and in the lives of others. Maybe it’s me seeing patterns where none exist.
Maybe it is a glimpse between the seams.

In every relationship which results in love, there is a test. A moment where everything goes wrong. Some health issue, some natural disaster, some conflict that places enormous stress. How that test is weathered tests the strength of the love.

Some it shatters and the relationship falls apart.

Some it breaks and though unknown the relationship begins to dissolve. It may be mended bit most often it dies under its own weight. Or is buoyed along by complacency and comfortable.

Some it draws closer together. It creates from pain and destruction something new and strong. As it should be, the strongest creation is born from destruction.

This will happen within the first six months. The soft strains of music will begin to play behind the scenes. Each note bending around until the snap and catastrophe. In the silence, the people involved either build their own symphony or off key plucking or yield.

Maybe life is full of such moments. Maybe I’m just attuned to this type and so I see it. Maybe I’m mad.

Just a thought. A possibility.

Sleep while waking

I’m tired. I find myself sleeping more and more. Because awake means aware and aware means thinking. My mind won’t stop grinding and grinding until the fine dust is choking. Until I can understand each piece and each conclusion or maybe just think I do. I want nothing more than to sweep you into my arms and hold you. And yet we can’t seem to find a way. Or a who. Or just a chance with the odds not tipped so badly against. I can’t be the only one who risks. I can’t break and break and shift and grow and still be here at the start. At some point, someone needs to catch me. It doesn’t work alone.

What lays within

Some like to think that there is a demon inside. A darkness that desires wicked things. That wants things. Craves things.
But, oh, I know the truth. It is nothing so easy. So…simple. No demon would want the things I desire sometimes. That outer edge of behavior beyond the outposts of commonly accepted and slipping into the beautiful nightmares of the darkest recesses of my too human, too jaded mind. The things I keep hidden. The scenes that I play out only in the playground of my mind. Because to realize them would take a partner who wanted that darkness. Who was unafraid of both the desires and the dark romance of my heart. Of rose pedals and paddles. Hoods and control. My heart and mind is a labyrinth of doors. What is seen is only what I have judged is acceptable and I will live with that half loaf or crumbs. Rather than break and take all without permission. I know the depths of the monster within. But I have no illusions that it is a demon. No. It is merely my self. Without leash. Without doors. Without mercy. Only tempered by control. And love.

Working

I used to wake up and be excited to go to work. I know, insane right? But it’s true. I used to get up and go to work and I’d solve problems and help people all day. I’d come home tired but happy. The work was always varied and, more importantly, I had the tools and access needed to actually fix things. And, if I couldn’t fix something, there was a team of professionals who had a deeper understanding of the systems who could solve it. At most, it would be a few days. We knew each other and respected each other. Our lives intermingled and we knew each other.

A few years later the group split to better dedicate to specific, complex, and separate projects. I had worked both sides and was working on the complex side because I prefer complexity. Still interesting to go to work but I had little interaction with the professionals with the deeper access. Rifts and rivalries began to form.

A few years go by and it’s decided that what’s needed is a middle team who will work with both teams and bridge the gap. Still ok as I personally knew the people there. They had come from my team. But others did not have the same experience and the gaps were beginning to show. It grew to us vs them. And that’s never a good thing, when all are supposed to be serving the same ends.

A few years later and all of those small personal teams are merged under a shiny new department. And that department is headed by? An outsider who knows no one and regards people as numbers and cogs and has no idea how the company and its services function. You’d think he’d learn and adapt his style to suit the existing environment. Meld two into a more cohesive whole. No. Instead he begins to implement policy that imposes his structure on the existing one. And each step he carries it forward is another step that twists the original teams away from capably serving the companies customers. Treating those customers like a given input rather than a fickle variable.

A few short years later and my boss. A hardworking, caring, professional, and personable man is forced out of his position and moved to a window office. Watching the world go by with no power in preparation of forcing him to retirement. I’d seen exactly this before. This is what the company does to competent troublemakers who have the foresight to tell people that their idea isn’t going to work.

And who should appear but the micromanaging numbers guy. The guy who knows what asses to kiss. The guy who’s all smiles while he’s stabbing you in the back.

And he proceeds to do the same twisting of the section I work for that he did with the other one. And by this time, we have multiple systems that are breaking due to neglect and a new system that was created by people who don’t understand what they were creating or who would be using it or, really, how one complex piece needs to interact with these 10 other complex pieces.

So it’s a shit show. And not the fun kind(if you like that kind of thing). I still like my job. When I’m allowed to do it. But now there’s layers and layers of bullshit to wade through and even then, a simple fix to one table variable can take a week because there is this ignorant bureaucracy between what is needed and what is happening and the ones doing the fixing have never actually used the system. It’s like trying to fix a car when you only work on boats. There is some crossover but not much.

So I wake up and I think, I don’t want to go to work. But, I’m high level by now in a specialized field. I’d have to completely start over. And I’m not sure I want to do that. Or even how to.

Musings on a Monday

I find myself constantly wishing that I could do more for the people I love. That the bits that I do, the bits I am allowed to do, are not enough. I want to swoop in and help out. Even if that’s just being there.

I can’t decide if that’s egocentric bullshit or some impulse to be the hero or if it comes from genuine compassion. It may come from a place of profound pain. And by helping them, I get to feel connected for a few minutes or hours.

This may be the tragedy of self inspection and healing. Every time there is a plateau and you think you are good, there is another yawning pit from which demons claw out. They may be polite or you may realize that you want nothing more than to start crying and you don’t know why. Only that it’s easier to do that than to be hurt.

I want to help, to fix, because I am broken.
Hopelessly cliche, I am aware.

I’m not looking for a person to fix. Or who will fix me. But I can’t help but feel that their is a person shaped hole in my heart, and if it were filled, this… All of this life and wondering and pain, would be a bit easier.

Regarding the Valentine’s Day story

Regarding the Valentine’s Day story

I think it is pretty common in stories of an erotic nature to present as if all parties are mind readers. And there is a bit of that in this one, mostly between a couple who have been married for years.

But I think that there is also a assumption beyond the story that a master or top just somehow knows what to do. And really what is involved is planning, forethought, and really a lot of work.

Gear, specialty clothing, and other accessories don’t just appear. Spacial planning, especially when juggling two submissives is key. In general, a submissive will see the outlines and will know, basically, what’s going on. A master will plan it all out. And will walk down a list of if/then to keep things flowing. But even a master can fool themselves. We are human and we make mistakes. And when that happens, even someone like me who likes improvisation, will be thrown for a loop.

That means we end up taking time. A submissive might then experience a extended scene where the master is not present. A game or thought experiment or deprivation. Something that gives us space to reconsider and plan.

In the story, Pel has a partner who understands his mindset and she helps him to work through the process of finding a suitable solution. Just by being there and suggesting something.

I’ve never punished a sub for a good idea. Even if that idea is we halt play for a time to refocus. And halting play when you are on tilt is smart. Especially, when considering edge play. Which is what the character, Sara, desires.

So, we see uncertainty and a master who has been on tilt and struggling to catch up for the last few installments. Because we are human, and these stories are about more than just sex or play.

Rambling, crying from one eye, on a Saturday afternoon

I complain, in my head, about people not being upfront about their intentions. Right up until the time where I catch myself doing the same thing. Saying too much seems to be worse than saying not enough. And I have a history of saying way too much too soon. And even when I’m talking to someone who knows how I feel, I wonder do they really? My hearts a bonfire. Flaring when I talk to those I love. And settling down, the heats still there and it’s sudden lessening feels like pain.

I suppose it’s the curse of loving. Ultimately, all you can do is be who you are.

I would do more than be available and talk. If I received the go ahead. Consent.

Sometimes, I feel trapped in the cage of my honor. Which, I suppose, is the point.

Thoughts on a New Year’s Day

I was wandering by and saw your door open.
You were crying.
You were laughing.
You were telling a story.
I stayed.
I stopped.
I listened.
And, in accordance with my nature,
I fell in love.
Just a little bit.
Just a spark.

This is what I feel about the people whose work I read regularly.
Maybe it’s wrong to fall in love with a person who is only this collection of thoughts and ideas.
Or maybe it’s the best way to fall in love
To love the mind and heart and dream
To know you would not love them less for meeting