You will have seen them everywhere; they seem to be the most popular post on the internet, but here is why we should boycott them:
What the flippin’ sausage is going on here?!
Indeed, I hear you. And I can answer your question:
… and that, ladies and gentlemen, is the difference.
There was a time when writing was a huge part of my life, it was all I was about. Every day I would write down notes in my little black book. I carried this book with me everywhere, it lived in my satchel along with my journal, my fountain pen, a general note book and whatever I was reading at the time.
I used to look at the world through the eyes of a writer, creating paragraphs in my mind about everything I saw and everything I felt. I was much less stressed back then, things were much more simple – generally speaking, that is. Of course, there were major things happening, and I have always been rather tightly wound, but there was always the peace and calm that the writing gave me.
I miss it.
Everything has its purpose in life, I firmly believe that. If only as an explanation of why one is where they are. To me, this still brings comfort. For a while, I thought the purpose of this blog was to deal the anguish of the break up with my ex-girlfriend and to reflect and learn who I was and what I wanted to be. Then I thought it was all a means to meet my current girlfriend, but upon deeper reflection, my whole life has been a preparation exercise for meeting Lauren; it could not have happened at any other time, it simply would not have worked.
So what reasons did I have left to write on this blog? None that I could think of; I write in my journal when I want to reflect; Lauren and I laugh so much, I have no need to amuse myself with silly stories on this blog anymore; I have a book in which to write my professional reflections, knowing that they will be wasted here in cyberspace.
But I have never shut the blog down, that would be too final. I haven’t written anything for months, but today, something pushed me towards it. I do not know why; this is probably very uninteresting to most people out there. But then, there is nothing I could write, short of apocalyptic prophecies, that would have an impact on most people out there, so it’s pointless to worry about. Although, there does seem to be one recurring post that never fails to receive daily hits, albeit for all the wrong reasons; I once wrote about the doctor examining my testicles. Don’t me why, but whenever someone enters a testicular manhandling (or womanhandling) related search, google seems to send them to me. Thanks for that, but people may get the wrong idea about me. Anyway…
The truth is, there is something different about writing here; it feels more like a conversation; it is more forgiving; I am not wasting anything by doing it; and at the end of the day, it allows me to just write as the feeling takes me, and I find this much more difficult to achieve on paper, goodness knows why…
The only thing that has troubled me about the blog is how consuming the stats become. It spoils it. And that I cannot stand.
My writing has always been disjointed and the blog has never had a robust theme per se, but I have always written with my tongue in cheek, with absolute honesty and with a very dry humour.
So on that note, I will leave it there and go and brush my teeth because I forgot this morning and Lauren keeps complaining about my smelly breath. Poor poor woman. I don’t deserve her. Luckily, she is not aware of this.
What is challenging about being spoon fed an idea?
A million bloggers writing about the same thing. Quite frankly, it depresses me.
The real challenge is to generate your own ideas week in week out; day in day out.
I am a firm believer in quality, not quantity; the number of times I hear the advice “Post frequently” unsettles me; another contributor to the droves of drivel that plague not just WordPress.com, but the entire world wide web.
When I was younger, I thought all adults were infallible; I trusted everything they said as truth; I believed they had all knowledge. I would give my Granddad the hardest sums I could think of and he would always tell me the answer; three times…… a billion, for example. He was the cleverest person I knew.
“She has a smile like that of someone suffering the acrid onslaught of their own flatulence, whilst desperately hoping that the person to whom they are talking does not notice; it’s a smile, but she’s dead behind the eyes.”
Yes, ladies and gentlemens, you read correctly.
These are the search terms for the last 30 days that led people to my blog….
|balls being cupped||2|
|play with my balls||2|
|playing with my balls||2|
|how many biscuits is too many||1|
|3 women cupping boys balls||1|
|i love my balls played with||1|
|lady cupped my genitals||1|
|too many biscuits||1|
|friend played with my balls||1|
|fondling a stranger in the night||1|
|she cupped my balls||1|
|doctors check my balls||1|
|how to play with my balls||1|
|massage my balls||1|
|female doctor cupped nuts||1|
|she cupped my nuts||1|
|she fondelled my balls||1|
|cupping a mates balls|
Wow. That is all I have to say.