How I Sabotaged my day

Sabotage (1)

Waking up a bit hungover, after only getting four hours of sleep, wasn’t the best start to my Monday.  Sunday had been a good night.  Lots of laughs, a couple drinks, good company and it ended with the best blow job I have gotten in years.  All and all not a bad night.

I rolled around in bed for a good hour trying to fall back asleep before I made the executive decision to get up.  I had no plan for my day.  No goals or to do list.  I knew I needed to workout, take my dog to the park, read and write.  But I was shooting in the dark without any real structure.

I ate breakfast and tried to write for an hour before I went to gym.  I was quickly thrown off course when I checked the price of gold and saw it had skyrocketed.  I invest in some ETF’s based off of golds movement.  I checked my Sharebuilder account to see how much I had lost on paper.  Then I rechecked my account every two minutes for the next hour.  My OCD got the best of me.

Once I pulled myself out of obsessing over lost money I tried to write again.  I stared at my computer screen for about 5 minutes and decided to hit them gym.  I had already wasted most of my morning and was antsy to get moving.  Although my workout was subpar, I was happy I took care of one item on my mental check list.

Then came the texts!  One after the next from friends of mine complaining about issues they’re having in their lives.  Being the amazing, problem solving, self-indulgent friend that I am, I quickly doled out advice I knew none of them would follow.  Once again proving that I am the center of my own little universe and people need me to survive.

Then I had the nerve to get annoyed with my friends because they kept texting me for hours.  I could have stopped replying.  I even went as far as to text other people and tell them my day had the life drained out of it from everyone complaining to me about their lives.  Hypocrisy at its finest.

After I ate dinner I started reading.  I kept thinking about how much more I should have accomplished earlier in the day.  That thought process ate up more of my time wasting energy focusing on the past and what I should have done than actually reading.

By the time I got around to writing it was late.  I was already half checked out.  I started making a post, but I couldn’t get any traction.  So I moved to the next logical step.  I went on Facebook made a post babbling about the riots in Baltimore and called it a night.

This is how easily I can sabotage my day when I have no structure and my mind isn’t primed first thing in the morning.  I can waste 24 hours getting as little possible as done.  All while giving myself enough excuses not hate myself too much for flushing a day down the toilet.

Cops Hate Pit Beef

“I’m really not going to drink much today.”

I spoke those famous last words around noon on St. Patrick’s Day in 2005.

I was working in sales for a fortune 100 company at the time.  Since our region was above plan at that point in the year we all left work before lunch and headed out in Baltimore to partake in the St Paddy’s day festivities.

CantonSquareScunnyTributeWe went to Canton Square, which is an area in Baltimore with bars up and down both sides of the street.  It was jammed packed with people and the lines for the bars were very long.  Even before noon.

A friend of mine was bartending at the bar we went to.  As soon as I saw him I ordered drinks and shots for everyone.  It was on the company tab so I ordered several rounds.

About an hour after getting there I was struggling to keep it together.  I don’t know how many shots and drinks I had in that hour.  But I’m pretty sure it was too many.

My memory of the next 2-3 hours is pretty foggy.  This was during a period of my life where I blacked out about 50% of the times I drank.

Apparently I left the bar around 3:30 in the afternoon (My memory about the day kicks back in around this time). I found myself sitting on a bench in the middle of Canton Square eating a pit beef sandwich.  There were cops out everywhere patrolling the area to make sure drunk people, like myself, weren’t causing too much trouble.

One police officer rode past me on his bike while I was sitting on the bench.  I decided it would be a good idea to throw the rest of my pit beef sandwich at him.  The sandwich bounced off his bike helmet and he stopped immediately.  He looked around for what hit him and who had thrown it.

Unfortunately for me, my St. Paddy’s day shenanigans captured the attention of another cop who watched the whole incident unfold.  He quickly rushed up to me and pulled me off the bench.  He informed the other officer what I had done.  They weren’t very pleased with me to say the least.

They put me in handcuffs and escorted me through the square in front of thousands of people.  Including several of my co-workers.  That was fun explaining on Monday morning.

I kept asking the officers why they were detaining me.  “What did I do wrong?”  They told me I was going to jail for assaulting an officer.  My only reply was, “With a pit beef sandwich.”  This reply was met with an even greater level of contempt for me.

They threw me in the back of the police car and were about to take me to lock up for the night.  Fortunately for me, a more serious situation arose that needed their attention.  They released me with a criminal citation and told me to go home.

The mile or so that I  stumbled back to my house was brutal.  I’m not sure why I didn’t take a cab.  I tripped over a curb, smashed my chin off the ground and bled for the rest of the walk.

I woke up the next morning to find the criminal citation on my nightstand.  It was all crumbled up and I couldn’t quite make out what it said.  However, I did recognize the words “Pit Beef Sandwich.”

I ended up having to hire a lawyer and go to court for the incident.  Luckily for me The criminal citation had the wrong statute number on it and the DA didn’t want to go through the hassle of getting it changed.  My lawyer squared things away and all the charges were dropped.


I Pissed On My Protein Bar

I jumped out of bed at 4 A.M. with a massive urge to piss.  On my way to the bathroom I grabbed the protein bar I had sitting on my dresser and started eating it.

home-designI stood in front of the toilet emptying my bladder while I ate my delicious chocolate Power Crunch bar.  I could barely keep my eyes open.  As I took my third bite of the bar it cracked in my hand and the majority of it fell into the toilet with the wrapper attached.  I continued to piss on my bar while my brain tried to make sense of what had just occurred.

I came to enough to realize that I had a little bit of an issue.  I couldn’t flush the rest of the bar with the wrapper.  I needed to reach into the toilet bowl full of my own piss and pick the bar out and throw it away.  It wasn’t the most appealing activity to perform at any time of the day, much less at four in the morning.  I put my hand into the bowel, grabbed the bar and threw it out.

A couple of things went through my head at that very moment.  First, I was a little bummed that I couldn’t finish my bar because they taste amazing.  Second, I just put my hand in piss to fish this bar out of the toilet; that’s gross.

At times I ruminate over little disappointments like these.  I allow them to ruin my mood and possibly keep me up for hours.  But my mind quickly shifted to the fact that I wanted another bar I have a cabinet full of them.  I can easily wash the piss off my hands with a little soap and water.

Why do I bother to write this story you may ask?  Well, because I had this experience a couple of hours ago and I didn’t lose my mind or break my toilet in the process.  That may not seem like much to some people but to me it’s pretty fucking amazing.

So often the trivial setbacks life throws at me have had so much power over my actions and attitude.  I have allowed the tiniest misfortunes to snowball and turn into much larger problems.

I had a counselor in rehab once tell me, “Its not the big dogs you have to worry about, you know how to deal with them.  Its the little dogs jumping up to bite your nuts that always get in your way.” He was absolutely right.  Its ridiculous when I think about the hardships I have endured and been able to  move forward; yet something like dropping a protein bar in the toilet could ruin my day.

This analogy may be a stretch for some people.  But when your mindset is one of abundance you automatically become cognizant that small setbacks and disappointments don’t need to take you off your path and eat up your time.  Learn from your mistakes.  Change your approach next time to make sure the same results don’t ensue.

When one opportunity falls through you have 4-5 more on the shelf that you can run with.  You just have to go to the sink, wash the piss of your hands and grab another protein bar from the cabinet.



Purpose and Progress

Last night I made the decision that my life had fallen off track the last couple of weeks.  Ever since my vacation to California I had become unproductive and had lost focus of my goals.  My life had become all about play and very little about work.  I decided this was no longer acceptable and I needed to correct my behavior in order to restore some balance to my life.

Last night I set my alarm earlier than normal so I could get a head start on a productive day.  As the alarm on my phone blared its annoying cry this morning at 6:30 I tried to figure out why I was getting up early.

I could think of 100 reasons why I wanted to hit snooze and stay in bed.  I had fallen asleep late.  I woke up several times during the night.  My allergies were killing me.  My dog was being adorable the way she way laying with me.  But I literally couldn’t think of one reason as to why I should get up and start my day.

The outcome was obvious; I hit snooze.  Over and over.  After the fourth time I hit snooze I finally woke up, measured my dick, hit my knees, said my morning prayer then went to the kitchen to make myself a protein shake and eat 2 tablespoons of coconut oil.

article-2268950-1730381E000005DC-879_634x654The sad reality of what got me out of bed this morning is that I had an erection I wanted to measure.  Lately I’ve been feeling like my penis hasn’t been working correctly.  This has been a struggle for me ever since I got off steroids almost two years ago because I now have low testosterone levels.  In my mind it looks and feels much smaller than I remember.  This summer it felt and worked fine but I had a mental blow to my ego/penis that made me second guess the whole situation.

The only motivating factor that could drive me out of bed this morning was my fear and insecurity.  I had a good, full erection that felt right for once and I wanted to get out of bed quickly to measure it before It went flaccid.  Once I measured it I felt a little better and started my day.

On days like this it’s clear to me I struggle with my vision and purpose.  When my thoughts about staying in bed asleep far outweigh my ability to wake up and start my day, I know there is a huge disconnect.  I can make 1000 excuses as to why I couldn’t wake up and start my day early.  But the reality is I didn’t have a strong sense of purpose for my day.

I had my list of goals I want to accomplish today written down.  I made sure to look it over last night before bed as a reminder of the productive day I needed to have today.  But when my alarm went off I couldn’t think of anything on that list.  The comfort of laying in bed was overwhelming.  I came very close to cashing in my day before it even started.

These days become all too common in our lives.  We only get up out of a sense of fear that if we don’t we will experience negative repercussions in our lives.  We may miss our bus,  get fired from our job for not being on time or get up out of fear that our penis shrank.  But how long can those negative factors be the driving force in our lives and allow us to have a meaningful and successful existence.

For me, fear only drives me enough to do the bare minimum to get the job done.  There’s usually not a lot of satisfaction in things I do out of fear.  Facing my fears and doing things because they scare me, not because I am scared of what happens when I don’t do them, is something altogether different.  For me that’s where purpose comes in.  Part of what makes me feel alive is doing new activities that I am afraid of or being put in situations that take me out of my comfort zone.

My purpose may change daily.  But without purpose my days just exist.  They tend to lack meaning and rarely lead to any progress.  They become the rat race, drowning in the tedium of everyday life.

My purpose doesn’t need to be some grandiose goal every day.  But it needs to have meaning and serve my life in a manner that allows me to create progress.  When I am able to create progress my life becomes a journey.  Turning life into a game by challenging myself through daily experiments to see what I can accomplish so that life can have more meaning than just getting out of bed to measure my boner.

Your Valtrex Doesn’t Scare Me

Our first date was one of the most awkward and uncomfortable experience of my dating life.  We had been set up by a mutual friend.  My humor and charm were completely lost on her.

We had gone to a party together and barely spoke.  I couldn’t wait for the night to be over.  Yet at the end of it she still wanted a second date.  As dull and dreadful as I found her personality, her physical appearance made me want to give it another shot as well.

Her life was a bit complicated.  She was living with her husband awaiting a divorce after she had caught him cheating.  My sick attraction to that kind of chaos weighed heavily on my decision to see her again.  I was drawn to the drama.

A couple of weeks later we agreed to meet at a new Mexican restaurant for dinner.  I arrived on time, as I always try to be punctual.  She had texted me and told me she was running a little late because she had to stop at CVS to pick up a prescription.

The food at dinner was amazing.  Our conversation was better than the previous date.  However, it still felt forced and awkward.  I asked her questions about her life and job in hopes that she would open up, but most her responses were one word answers.

With dinner winding down I asked if she wanted to come back to my place afterwards.  Without hesitating she said yes.  As I paid for the bill she opened her handbag at the table to get some lipgloss out.  when she reached into her bag her prescription she had picked up at CVS fell out onto the table.

valtrex8lcI looked at the bottle and in big bold words it read, Valacyclovir.  I recognized the label from commercials.  It was the generic form of Valtrex.  My face dropped as I saw her slowly put the bottle back in her bag.  She saw my face, but never said a word about the fact that I saw her herpes medication fall out onto the table.

I decided at that point to make this date an experiment.  I was going to take her home and see how far she would let me take things before she either A) told me to stop or B) told me she had herpes.  As we hooked up I kept waiting for her to say something, but she never did.  She just allowed things to progress more and more.

Right before I was going to seal the deal I stopped myself.  In my mind all I kept thinking was, “this dirty bitch really isn’t going to stop me or tell me.”  I couldn’t do it knowing that getting herpes was a possibility.  I had made it that far in my life without catching anything that wasn’t curable and I wanted to keep it that way.

Sadly enough it took me a third time of hanging out with her before I could cut it off.  She came to my house and brought her dog along.  She babied him the whole time and wouldn’t let him play with my dog.  At one point she even let her dog lick the inside of her mouth repeatedly.  That made me a little uncomfortable.

The trifecta of her boring personality, making out with her dog and the possibility that she had herpes proved too much even for me.  I couldn’t hack it anymore and never saw her again.  Apparently she’s married with children now.  As I look at it as we both won.  She has her family and I don’t have herpes.


Everyday Skills I Struggle With as a Human Being


Today I met my writing coach for the first time.  My therapist recommended her when I mentioned I was starting a blog.  I figured if I was going to put my thoughts down for the world to see, I should at least try to make them comprehensible .  So I made a little investment in myself and sought out her help.

We met at Starbucks and made our introductions. She provided me with several writing assignments;  seventeen of them to be exact.  This was one of the exercises she asked me to write.

Everyday skills I struggle with as a human being:

  1. Waking up and getting out of bed — It’s a struggle daily
  2. Falling asleep — I can’t remember the last time I went to sleep without sleep aids.
  3. doing my hair — This is the bane of my existence. My hair is thin and keeps getting thinner. It never looks as cool as other peoples.
  4. Making small talk with strangers — I either dominate the conversation or I ask so many questions that I come off creepy
  5. Approaching women and striking up conversations — I’m never sure what to say. I always have this plan to say something smooth or endearing. Instead it usually leads to them looking for their pepper spray.
  6. Making decisions with my time — No matter what decision I make I often second guess if it was the most efficient or effective use of my time
  7. Getting of my phone — I hate the fucking thing. Putting it down for an hour seems nearly impossible
  8. Talking to friends and family on the phone — apparently no one can hear me because I mumble
  9. Staying on task — What was I working on again?
  10. Making reasonable assumptions on the time it will take me to complete a task — I feel that things often take twice as long as they should.
  11. Rushing to nowhere — Im getting better at this but I tend to rush through things just so I can wait somewhere else
  12. Waiting in lines or in traffic — I tend to lose my mind
  13. Driving — Friends that follow me have often asked if I am drunk
  14. Folding laundry — I hang all of my shirts for this reason
  15. Decorating —I’ve never had anything on the walls of the place I’ve lived alone.
  16. Owning Comforters — I haven’t own a comforter in over five years. I don’t know why, I just never use one.
  17. Buying basic adult necessities — utensils, bed sheets, useful things for the bathroom and kitchen. I haven’t owned a kitchen table in almost a year.
  18. Getting to the point of a story — I’m very long winded and get sidetracked. From what I hear talking to me can be exhausting.
  19. Ironing — I don’t own an iron at this point
  20. Matching colors — I am never quite sure what goes together.
  21. Ending bad relationships — I struggle with walking away, even after I know I need too. I keep them going until it becomes so unhealthy that we can no longer speak
  22. Responding to niceties — I skip past the fun part of conversations or emails and jump right into the heart of the matter. At times people find this very off-putting. By the way, off-putting is probably my least favorite word. Hearing it makes my skin crawl. However, it was the most accurate adjective I could think of.
  23. Buying furniture — Thinking about doing this gives me anxiety. I live way below my means. In my apartment I have a bed, a dresser, a couch and a TV that I have sitting on top of an ottoman.
  24. Finding my keys — I always think they are in my pocket. They never are.
  25. I don’t own a wallet — I go with my cash, ID and credit cards wrapped up in a rubber band.
  26. Reading comprehension — I have to reread things numerous times to understand what I have read.
  27. Peeing into the toilet — I spray everywhere and make an awful mess. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I pee in my sink or out my back door to avoid this happening.
  28. Putting toilet paper on the roll the “right way.” — Apparently the roll should face a certain direction. My ex used to tell me I always put it on backwards
  29. Dealing with boredom — My mind drifts and goes to bad places when I don’t put it to work
  30. Controlling my sweat — Its just what I do. My chest, back and armpits just drip even when I’m not hot. I can’t wear certain color shirts or leave the house without a wife beater on underneath my outfit.

I’m sure I could go on with this list forever. But I wont. This is just a small taste of my daily struggle


Life is Brutal but Beautiful

In May of last year one of my closest friends took his own life.  Mark was only 42.   A mutual friend of ours called me and told me the news.  When I saw his name come up on my phone I had an eerie feeling something had happened to Mark.  I was devastated as I fell to the ground clutching my phone.

Mark was like a brother to me.  We had been through a lot together during our friendship.  We met at the gym and he became my lifting partner for years when I lived in Baltimore.  We both had a passion for fitness.  We always joked that no one else would train with either of us because of how much we sweat during our workouts.

725He was a talented athlete.  A former wrestler at the collegiate and professional level.  He even spent a little time wrestling in the WWF (now known as WWE).  He was tough nails but had the biggest heart.

Mark was a guy who gave all he had to anyone he could.  He was a very gifted personal trainer that had an uncanny ability to help others rehab through injuries and illnesses.  One woman came to Mark with a claw hand that she had not been able to use for years.   Through trigger point massage and several other techniques he was able to give her full dexterity back in that hand.  She had seen doctors for years and no one could help her the way Mark was able to.

The two of us had the same sick sense of humor.  We would say things to each other that most people would find incredibly stupid and immature, but we found it hilarious.  Most of the time we were just picking on each other about dumb shit we had done.  He had the most amazing and infectious laugh I’ve ever heard.

Mark was one of the few people in my life that I could be myself around.  I never worried about what I said or how I acted.  Every time we saw each other I would tell him I loved him before I left.

Mark had talked to me about suicide in the past.  I had talked him down from the ledge many times before.  But this time he was set on doing it and he never reached out.  I guess he felt he didn’t have the strength to come back from what he was going through.  It makes me so sad to think he didn’t realize how many people loved him and would had done anything to help him.

I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to say a few words about Mark at his funeral.  I was so filled with emotion when I spoke that the only part I vividly remember saying was  “Life is brutal but beautiful.”  Those five words summed up my feelings and the dichotomy of the life.

The brutality of this situation was very easy to see.  The tremendous amount of pain it caused everyone who cared for him was plastered on their faces in tears and sadness.  A man who was far too young decided to make a permanent decision for a temporary problem.  His pain had become so great that he couldn’t see that his life could possibly get better in the future.  The fact that Mark felt so alone that he couldn’t reach out for help.

The beauty of that day was in all the people that came together to show their love and appreciation for Mark.  To pay our respects and celebrate his life.  Sharing stories of how he had affected our lives and made us richer for having known him.  The serenity of knowing that Mark was no longer in pain and was in a better place.

I miss my friend daily.  His picture hangs on my refrigerator and I talk to him often.  I know hes somewhere smiling down on everyone he loves and probably laughing at all of my mistakes.  If only Mark could have seen the beauty we all saw in him he may still be alive today.

Life is hard.  We all know that.  But, it’s important to smile, take time for yourself and love people with all you have.  Find joy in your life everyday and look for ways to give back to others.  Life’s about the journey more so than the destination.  If you don’t take time to enjoy it daily you miss out on so much of what is amazing in this world.  There is adversity and brutality all around us everywhere we look. But life is also the most rewarding and beautiful experience we will ever have.


Learning to Understand and Deal with Pain Without Painkillers


If someone else treated me the way I treated myself I would’ve had to kill them. The massive amount of mental and emotional suffering I brought upon myself throughout my life has been insane. At 35 I am realizing that even though I have experienced a tremendous amount of pain, I never learned how to process and deal with it. I didn’t understand how the grieving process works and what steps should occur in a healthy mourning period.

In the past, when my skin started to crawl and my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the same thoughts, I was lost with how to interpret and handle those feelings. My therapist recently brought this fact to my attention.

For as long as I can remember I used foreign substances to cope with the pain I was going through. I stuffed whatever I didn’t want to face deep down inside of me. I numbed my senses with opiates, cocaine, women, money and alcohol. I used anything that allowed me to get out of “myself”. For that brief moment in time it would my fill my void and bring me some small, but fleeting period of happiness.

My life had become a vicious cycle of chaos and pain. A considerable portion of my pain was due to my inability to allow myself to be happy and content. I struggled to accept happiness and success; even when I had fought so hard to achieve them.

Something inside of me kept telling me I wasn’t allowed to be happy. I didn’t deserve it. If I continued to stay optimistic something bad would surely occur. I didn’t understand that it was ok to allow the good to come into my life without fear of repercussions. I continuously self-sabotaged my life and created chaos.

There’s truly a sick sense of comfort in chaos for someone like me. It’s very familiar and I understand how it works. I was fearful of what life would look like without chaos. What would it’s replacement look and feel like? This thought process caused me to stay sick mentally and live in my own turmoil.

When I decided to make a change I looked at my life and decided that I had two choices. I could either stop taking painkillers or I could kill myself. There was no middle ground for me at that point. Those were the only viable options for my life.

I was able to associate the feeling of such overwhelming pain with the use of opiates that I kicked cold turkey. My mind finally got to the point where the pain and suffering of withdraw, as well as having to deal with my emotions, were not nearly as great as continuing to use. That was the key for me. Forging a mental association that linked taking painkillers to creating more pain in my life, rather than taking the pain away.

The first couple of weeks I was physically sick from withdraw. However, the next several months of having to deal with all the mental and emotion pain was far worse. I had to face what I had created in my life and it wasn’t pretty. I had to accept that I had lost relationships, business opportunities, money and most importantly time because of my actions.

Occasionally I felt that I couldn’t handle all the mental anguish. I thought It may be too much and it would consume me. I’ve seen people experience tragic events in their live’s and never came out of it the same. They stay stuck in a rut with their past haunting them forever. Continually living out the same patterns ad nauseam, only replacing the characters in their story.

I’m only seven months removed from that life, but writing about it now seems foreign to me. It’s as if I’m not writing about my own life. When I replay my past actions in my head it’s like seeing a bad movie that so embarrassing to watch it makes you cringe. It’s unfathomable to me that I lived that way for so long.

I’ve learned dealing with pain is supposed to hurt. Allowing myself to feel whatever pain comes into my life and learning from it is necessary. Pain is the most powerful teacher we have in this world. It is the cornerstone of growth and change. It has taught me many of my greatest lessons; as well as evoked the most change in my life. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

Coming To Me For Advice?


Who do you go to when you need advice?  It seems like so many of my friends come to me when they have an issue they need help with.  Hell, I give out amazing advice if I do say so myself.  I’m an idea man.  It’s just what I do.  Sometimes I’m even shocked by my incredible advice when I hear it coming out of my mouth.

This is especially true when it comes to personal and relationship advice.  I used to look at this as a form of flattery.  I’m a pretty resourceful and intelligent guy.  Also, I’m caring, compassionate and easy to talk to.  Why wouldn’t people want my advice?

Those factors all play a part of why my friends come to me for advice.  But the truth of the matter is that they don’t come to me for advice because I’m such a great guy with an uncanny intellect.  Its because I have fucked up so much in my life and they know it.

It’s easier to share your problems with someone you know has, or had, much worse issues in their life.  Particularly when the majority of that person’s hardships have been self-imposed.

People talk to me all the time about their relationships and ask for advice.  It’s crazy when I think about it.  These same individuals know damn well that my intimate relationships to this point in my life have been total trainwrecks.  I have never had a truly healthy and stable relationship with a woman I was dating.  But yet such a large majority of my friends come to me for dating advice.

I can certainly tell them where I went wrong with my relationships and what I could have done differently.  Sometimes that can be helpful to them by putting things in perspective.   It may add insight into what they could do differently to be happy or make their partner happy.  But at times I feel like coming to me for relationship advice is like asking Mother Theresa how to give a blowjob.  I can give you my best guess, but I’m probably not the most qualified person you could talk to.

Quite often, I don’t think that most people even want my advice.  They just want to be able to vent to someone who has experienced worse.  I’m guilty of this as well.  When I talk to someone I am able to relate with it makes me feel less alone.  Less like an outcast or a freak.

Knowing that someone can empathize with what I am going through is comforting.  I certainly wouldn’t want to talk to someone who has always gotten everything right in their life.  Their story wouldn’t ring true to me.  It would make me feel worse and more so like they could never understand what I am feeling.

Failure is part of the human condition.  It’s something that usually needs to occur so that we can change and grow.  Life is all about experiences.  Making mistakes is a big part of that story.  Its funny that when people see that you have failed so often they still are more likely to come to you for advice.

Now, most people can’t follow good advice.  These are the Askholes.  They continually ask, but they never implement the advice they are given.  They fail because the continue to do what they have always done.  Like the saying goes “If nothing changes, nothing changes.”  But that’s a different post for another day.

I Can’t Write With My Dick In My Hand

“I should probably beat off. ”  I’m not sure why, but that’s the first thing that pops into my mind when I’m writing and get the slightest bit stuck.   I literally catch myself inching my hand off the keyboard and moving it towards my dick when the words aren’t flowing the way I want.  It’s this subconscious mechanism in my brain that tells me “This is hard work; jerking off would really help this process.”

american_reunionEven though I love writing and it makes me happy, I seem to love masturbation more.  I’m rarely disappointed when I finish masturbating.  Plus I always know the outcome and it takes much less effort.   With writing, sometimes I turn out junk that’s completely unusable and it takes me quite a long time.  Advantage, masturbation.

Some days I spend so much time going back in forth in my head about whether or not I should take a break to jerk off that I forget what I’m writing about.  It starts to consume me.  My focus becomes less on what I’m writing and more about why I shouldn’t masturbate.  I spend hours staring at my computer screen having this internal battle.

Then I start to lie to myself.  I manipulate my brain into believing that if I get this pent up feeling out, it will clear my head and I will be able to focus on my work. That’s usually the furthest thing from the truth.  As soon as I cum I don’t want to write or create.  All I usually want to do is eat some food, relax and maybe read or listen to some music.

Often I cave in to my urge.  It starts with me opening a new browser and pulling up one of my favorite sites.  I peruse a bit and get a little taste of what’s out there for me to watch.  I’ll start texting girls.  Maybe send out a couple dick pics, see if I can strike up some sex talk and possibly get them to send me some naked pictures.  It all devolves from there.

However, There are occasions when I get to the point of no return and stop.   I get all worked up and ready to go and then I tell myself, “No,  I have to focus on writing and get this post done.”  I make a deals in my head that as soon as I’m finished I can reward myself by jerking off.

At 35 it’s a daily struggle to do real work without ending up with my dick in my hand.  I’m starting to wonder if this is something I should just commit to before I start writing.  Take care of business beforehand so that it’s no longer an issue while I’m writing.  Looking at it with the same mindset of not going out on a date with a loaded gun.  Making sure I have clean pipes so I can think straight and my conversation doesn’t seem to desperate or eager.

Maybe that needs to be my new ritual.  It will be an experiment moving forward.  With my mind clear of these thoughts it’s possible the words will flow better and my posts will improve.  Life’s all about trial and error in order to learn and get better at you what do.

As a reader you can take comfort in knowing that I did not masturbate while writing this post.  You’re welcome.