Stupid Is As Stupid Does.

Yesterday, I went to the store and I got to buy this silly little rubbermaid bowl and lid storage thing that goes in your cabinet. It cost all of $10.

I was excited. Like, hand-clapping giggles kind of excited.

Master laughed at(with?) me, remarking on how giddy I was over it.

But, for real, this is how simple my pleasures are these days. I become giddy over a ten dollar rubbermaid storage container.

There are some days when things like that bother me. It’s not just that I have simple pleasures or that my life is simple, but that I’m starting to FEEL simple. I think simple, I live simple. I brain simple.

I tell myself that I can’t be bothered with trying to participate in the more intelligent, theoretic discussions that occur here and there on the net, even those that revolve around bdsm. Truth is, I probably couldn’t participate, even if I tried.

My simpleness isn’t evidenced only by my non-participation of in-depth conversations, it’s highly evidenced in my day to day activities. For instance, I am currently reading my way through the Harry Potter books (for the first time), reading one book and then watching the movie. And enjoying it. Lots.

At the store yesterday Master also bought me a child’s suncatcher kit. You know, the clear plastic ones that come with the row of miniature paints? And I picked it out. Butterflies and Flowers.

Look what I made last week, also from a child’s kit:

(Am said my fence posts looked like penises (penii?). I think she’s right.)

Anyway, as I said, some days it really bothers me. I often don’t feel “good enough” for other people and am only comfortable with him. (The point, perhaps?)

Other days, I have to wonder what good it would do to be a brainiac, what use Master would have for that when my main purpose is dick sucking and come swallowing (of which, I am a distinguished road scholar!). He wants me to know gardening and how to run a house as cheaply as possible. He wants me to raise egg-laying hens.

I guess when he wants intellectually stimulating conversation, he goes elsewhere. When he wants an ass to fuck, he comes to me.

I’ve stumbled over this before. I had an inkling some years ago that he was “dumbing me down”. And I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t value intellect or that he has a particular problem with intelligent, self-confident women. In fact, I know he doesn’t. He’s just not that way.

He just doesn’t want that from me. He never tells me I’m stupid, ever. He always tells me I’m smart– but I sense that he’s directing the area of my “smarts”, de-valuing (perhaps) the areas that are of no benefit to him.

I do have a very specific purpose to him. He’s making those purposes be my only priority. More brainwashing?

The things you didn’t know you were signing up for, you know?

I’ll sit down and paint my suncatches and enjoy the fuck out of it. Then, sometime today, I’ll give him a blow job or cock my ass in the air and he’ll enjoy the fuck out of that.

I dunno. It all sounds like it should be very very fucked up.

Probably it is– and I’m too stupid to care.

~cunt