How forgetful so fast I am. I already forgot one of the best qualities of owning this tiny little netbook upon which I am writing this right now at two thirty in the morning. It’s so small I can crawl comfortably into bed with it and write until I am ready to shut my eyes and then place it aside as I hopefully fall asleep shortly. Also I can now watch porn from bed, although for odd reasons I refuse to watch porn on this. I basically use it as a two hundred dollar digital typewriter.
I have trouble sleeping, and that’s the reason I’m writing now. I waste so much time being tired. I’ll be on the cusp of sleeping so I’ll be too tired to do anything productive, but at the same time I won’t be able to fall asleep because my mind will be zooming thoughts of negativity a hundred miles an hour through the highway that is my brain. I wish I could put up a “slow, children at play” sign in there to slow my thoughts down – although it’s not like anyone pays attention to those signs anyway. But I can’t, so usually the last two to three hours of my nights are spent doing nothing but thinking about things I’ve already thought far too much about.
My mantra recently has been ‘don’t think about girls, don’t think about girls, don’t think about girls,’ because when I think about girls nothing good can come of it. I wish it was just a sex thing. I feel like then I could just masturbate and get the thoughts out of my head for a few moments. Although to be honest, and I find this funny, I think I masturbate so often because (aside from having too much time, and therefore penis, on my hands) it sexualizes women, and makes me look at them, in that moment, in a way that I’m less depressed I don’t have them in. Give me the choice of a life without sex or a life without love and I choose a life without sex, even if that doesn’t mean love is guaranteed. Of course that’s being said from a man who has never had sex. As every person must assume once I do have sex my thoughts on which is better, love or sex, will change.
So as hard as it might be to believe masturbating for me has been less about needing to please myself sexually and more about killing time and distracting me from thinking. Lately I haven’t been masturbating as much because I’ve been trying to force myself into doing some things to better myself in ways I’d like to be better, mostly writing. I started a sports blog because I love sports, and what the hell, I might as well write about sports if it might help out my writing. I think the main reason I haven’t done that up until now, with the exception of writing about sports every once a week a while ago when I was trying to write everyday, is because every one I know who has ever read anything I’ve ever wrote couldn’t give a crap about sports. But then again if I keep with the mentally that this is less about people reading my writing and more about writing to get better it doesn’t really matter. Writing is writing no matter what it’s about. Anything helps.
Also I was hesitant to ever really write about sports because when I tried writing about it once a week in the past it just turned into another springboard for me to make jokes. Part of that was knowing that no one reading it really cared about who I thought would win the Super Bowl. But also that’s the biggest problem with my writing in general. I don’t really take it that seriously. I just end up joking, because it’s more enjoyable that way. Comes more natural. Yeah I could have a smooth ass, but that means I’d have to wax it every so often, and frankly I don’t have the effort, plus I enjoy my hairy butt. I enjoy having some hair on my body. So as much as I would enjoy stripping I can’t do it because I refuse to be hairless. Also my penis isn’t big enough (I thought this was about writing?) Not anymore.
To Be Continued in bedtime thoughts #2