Bound up

I’m mentally constipated.  I feel like I have nothing to say at all.  I’m procrastinating from writing so often that my wrist is sore from jacking off so much.  That’s my go-to when I want to procrastinate.

I want to fire up my favorite site and have at it instead of trying to get some coherent words out of my head and onto paper.  It’s almost painful to write.  An uneasy feeling creeps up inside of me as soon as I start.  It reminds me of the anxiety I feel when I’m withdrawing from drugs.

My feet and legs are restless.  My ass checks clench tight.  I’m grinding my teeth until my jaw gets sore.  All because I feel the need to write.

Just knowing I feel this way makes me realize how badly I need to write.  No amount of reading, working out or jerking off can ever cleanse my mind the way writing can.  I need to bleed onto the page and purge my soul in order to get right. That’s the fix I need.

Writing is the one thing that’s truly mine.  My thoughts from my fucked up mind.  The more often I write, the less anxiety I feel. I feel lighter without my thoughts weighing me down and running wild in my psyche.

When I write to inspire, I feel inspired.  I feel obligated to practice the actions I preach.  I don’t want to be another hypocrite tauting some bullshit I don’t believe in.  Although, I have and will continue to contradict myself, that’s an unfortunate part of life.

I have to focus on momentum going in the right direction. What muse is calling me to write today and what will I produce?  Being creative makes life appealing.  Birthing something which only existed in my mind and giving it life with words is what I crave to do.

Then why do it fight it?  Why is it so hard to capture my ideas and present them for myself and others too see.  There is no pressure from anywhere other than from within.  Relax and release that tension.  Let the words flow.  Then I can create peace.

Sauna Thoughts

Kid Rock’s American Bad Ass is blaring in my headphones as I sweat uncontrollably in the sauna after my morning cardio session.  Yes, I’m a little ashamed to admit I’m listening to Kid Rock.  But I’m white trash and it worked this morning.

I have a full day ahead of me.  The choice is mine to either use it to its’ fullest, or let it pass me by.  To quote Kid Rock “I’m gonna fuck some hoes after I rock this place;” metaphorically speaking of course.  That’s how I want to spend my day.  Being present and appreciating that every day I’m above ground is a gift.

It’s easy to take life for granted when we all wake up with our anxiety and our problems.  They don’t disappear when we fall asleep.  They are right there waiting for us in the morning.

If we don’t have anything to be anxious about, our minds are very creative and can easily whip something up for us to stress about. We aren’t like our ancestors who woke up with real problems, worrying about getting eaten by a lion or some shit.  But we can certainly stress over driving to work in traffic or struggle over the existential question, “why am I here.”  I seem to focus on the latter quite often, and not in a healthy, introspective way.  Instead I put pressure on myself to do something great or my life is meaningless.  That’s always a fun conversation in my head.

It’s all bullshit to some extent.  Life is what you choose it to be.  I’m jealous of others who don’t search for meaning and do whatever their primal instincts feel in that moment.  It doesn’t seem like the the best long term solution, but it seems like a shitload of fun.

Life can have meaning to you or it can be a rat race devoid of any substance until you pass on and your matter floats back into the universe.  I’m not certain one choice is better than the other.  It’s simply perspective.