Chris won’t like this blog

Today I want to talk about all my sexual inadequacies, but that would take far too long so instead I’ll just talk about my phone and a few things associated with my phone. It was yesterday that I realized that I am paying roughly $43.63 a month for my cell phone plan (unlimited talk and text with Cricket, not the greatest company but the cheapest) and in this month of January I have only used my phone to talk once, and that was a few days ago when Leighton called me. Oh wait, I did receive two other calls this month, both from people who had been given the wrong number. It’s a little depressing. A few words that would describe part of my last year would be, ‘my phone doesn’t ring.’ I spent a good amount of time last year staring at my phone waiting, and hoping, it would ring. Sad, but very true, which makes it even sadder. I was going to say I wasted time staring at my phone, but I don’t really consider it a waste of time since I have no idea what else I would be doing, and anyway while doing something else I just would have been thinking about my phone not ringing.

I have convinced myself that the main reason my phone doesn’t ring is because people don’t want to talk to me, but that seems rather obvious, so I must dig deeper. The reason nobody wants to talk to me is because I am so very, very boring, especially on the phone. As you may have been able to tell from my writing I’m not a very emotional person. Well I guess that’s the biggest falsity my writing gives off about me. Last year I cried about ten times, which seems rather a lot for a boy in his early 20s. I cried more than double that if you count the 18 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy I watched. Okay, not really. And actually oddly enough the majority of my crying over TV shows occurs while watching sitcoms, but I don’t really count that as crying. I think it’s the juxtaposition of comedy followed by a saddening event that makes it more emotional for me, as opposed to a show like Grey’s Anatomy where it’s just a downer the whole time with mixed in sex scenes between attractive males appearing to be in their mid 40s with younger yet oddly less attractive females (is there a point to any of this?) A person can say I have a small penis a million times and it doesn’t really effect me. Partly because very few people have ever seen my penis, so they don’t really know the size of it, but mostly because I only vaguely care about the size of my genitals. For some odd reason my penis hasn’t taken much abused from anyone other than myself. However on many occasions I have been called shy, quite a few times as a result of my boringness during phone conversations, and before I didn’t really mind much, but over this past year it’s really taken a toll on my emotions. I’m supposed to be able to talk good (it’s well) I don’t mean grammatically. I just mean I’m not supposed to be boring. I’m too unattractive to be boring. I’m supposed to be witty and charming and completely unboring in every single way possible other than appearance.

Let’s have a change of topic. I’m back from my two hour hiatus from writing this and frankly I don’t want to write about what I was writing anymore. Not about my phone, but more so about being depressed for being shy. That’s a topic I could only delve into when I’m in certain moods, and that mood has long since past, and been buried, and has reincarnated in the form of a warthog, why warthog, I have no idea. Anyway, I took a two hour break from writing this because my mom rented The Hurt Locker and it’s gotta be returned soon and I wanted to watch it because Teresa Strasser said it was one of the best movies of the year. It was good but I don’t know why I listen to her movie suggestions considering many of the movies I remember her liking I’m not a fan of. I guess it’s because me and her have one of our favorite movies in common, that being The Princess Bride of course.

The unlimited talking on my cell phone plan I haven’t used much of, but I definitely get my money’s worth of texting, even though I basically only text one person. I find that people not wanting to talk to me transcends just speaking. I’ve often wrote long texts to both Bonnie and Eva and their replies are usually similar. Eva often responds with lol and nothing more. Bonnie’s replies are a little more in depth, something to the tune of ‘you’re weird.’ So I’ve pretty much stopped texting people other than the occasional ‘hey, how’s it going?’ but what I really mean is, ‘hey, I’m only texting you because you never text me and I’m checking to make sure you haven’t forgotten who I am.’ The only person I consistently text anymore is Dyana, which seems fitting considering she was the only reason I got a cell phone in the first place. I had vowed to never get a cell phone, albeit it was a half hearted vow, but I had imagined I wouldn’t get a cell phone for at least a few more years. But then she came into my life and there was no way in hell I could go a few years without hearing her voice (that sounds creepy) it probably is creepy. But even though my cell phone has brought some depression into my life, and often when I get a call or text and it’s not from Dyana I’m disappointed, the phone has brought some major joy to my life and made staying in touch with friends and such a lot easier, and I have Dyana to thank for that.

Thank you little miss wonderful.

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About Danniel

http://closertoclarity.com/
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4 Responses to Chris won’t like this blog

  1. Neofreed0m says:

    What would you consider “crying?”

    Would getting misty in the eyes count as crying or do you have to have tears falling down?

    • Danniel says:

      misty eyes doesn’t count as crying. What I’m doing right now as I type this doesn’t count as crying either. What I’m going to be doing in ten minutes from now if I keep listening to sad songs and can’t fall asleep might be considered crying though.

  2. sololos says:

    I think you should make your paragraphs shorter. Or at least pretend they are shorter by breaking them up.

    • Danniel says:

      I think about that constantly. People like short paragraphs. But then again fuck the people.

      I think it wouldn’t feel right if I made them shorter. I try all the time but I just can’t.

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