My superpower is rooted in the ability to shift perspective.  Call it a defense mechanism if you will but I have unleashed the inherent power.  Further than a sense of empathy, I can provide a fresh look from any angle.  The cost for this is inability to blend in.  I cultivate invisibility by hiding in plain sight and it works most of the time.  If I’m ever spotted, I use my feminine assets to misdirect and then make a quick Irish exit. 

In the world of games our greatest battles happen in the mind.  Gauging intent is more valuable than any amount of rote knowledge.  The best players ignore the game and go straight for their opponents. In a good game, the rules balance skill against fun.   Mechanics rewarding long-game strategy titillate me and I appreciate a pure horse race at times too.  The most rewarding part of MtG when I played (Masques) was draft and sealed deck.  Sure, good cards are good cards but a well-built rebel deck could crush at FNM. That’s a special kind of gratification.

I also played slivers in extended.  Survival was only fun for one or two stomps.  Everyone lit up when I busted out a Queen.  I guess that’s when I learned it’s not always about playing to win.  I didn’t refine the lesson until many years later during a Ticket To Ride game.  Now I can play with the sole purpose of not being last and find that plenty challenging, so to speak.  Not sure if that makes sense.

I dance more than I should.  I do my best to remain unapologetic.  Just because my dancing is bad doesn’t mean it’s worthless.  All I’m striving for is more than worthless right now.  I can only polish the turd if I crap one out first.  On the cusp of failure I’m desperately straining, only delaying progress.  *sigh*  What a shitty metaphor.  I’m actually crazy but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.

I like the smell of my own armpits.  Is that queer?  Sometimes, after a good meal I smell like roasted garlic.  I like garlic.  I like onions too.  I dislike fried foods and enjoy alcohol from time to time.  Maybe I’m fermenting my own soup of aromatics internally, creating a consomme cologne in an umami wrapper?  My leather daddy calls me yummy.  I have to agree.

It’s getting weird so just remember, I’m a walking cliche.  Never what people first assume and embracing change at every turn.  Knowing how terrible the world can be, I’m determined to find joy.  My other option is to give up and I’m not ready to do that.  I didn’t expect to make it this far, should at least see it through until I’m uncomfortable again.  I owe it to myself.  Society might benefit too.

Marco.