September, Be Sweet

Hello, September! So, we meet again.  Hope you don't suck a big black fat one like you did last year! And with that, I flip the page of my calendar to discover how much school stuff I have going on the next couple of weeks. Yeah, I'm having a love/hate relationship with September lately. Can we just fast-forward to Christmas break? No? Really? That's not possible to do? Oh.

I'm going to be really honest, I'm kind of dry on writing material right now because my life is insane (you can probably see that based on my latest blog posts, so I really haven't done a good job at trying to hide it) and sometimes my brain dies on me and I kind of feel like pounding it with one of those defibrillators, but I can't really do that. So, for the record, I'm trying, but I'm probably going to really suck for a while until I find another reason to talk about sex. I know, I know.

It's a little weird to look back on the things I wrote way back when I first started writing on this blog. Everything just came naturally and I didn't have to sit around waiting for something funny or interesting to hit me like a sack of bricks. Posts like this or this were written because I am a random ass college student with random ass, sleep-deprived thoughts. What happened to that instant ability? Screw you, aging and stress and depression and more stress on top and not enough sour patch kids and pizza. Screw all you to heck! 

Wait. I can totally mention sex. Hold on. 

So, I normally don't randomly plug articles on my blog, but I came across this really awesome article titled "Fat Sex: What Every Wants To Know But Is Afraid to Ask," and I think it struck me hard enough for me to want to talk about it some and share it with any of my readers who may be really curious about stuff or who might be in the same boat as a lot of "more-to-love" people out in the world. Basically I loved that the article pointed out that women need to stop trying to hide their fat during sex because their partner is already fully aware of how fat they are. She also goes on to show easy ways to make "fat sex" easier and more enjoyable. It's just a very informative read and also a complete confidence boost. So, I definitely suggest you people go read it.

I don't know. If you guys have topic suggestions for me, please, I beg of you, leave them in the comments or if you actually know me in real life, hit me up. I'm desperate. I'm this close to selling my body on the corner by 7-Eleven and Sonic.

I'll just leave you with Avril Lavigne's latest single "Rock N Roll"

What's In A Rhyme?

I don't know if I've mentioned it on this blog yet, but I've written quite a bit of poetry in the last couple of years. Yes, lot's of it is about men *rolls eyes* and the morbidity of random allegory. What can I say? I write about what I don't understand. After all, confronting what you don't know is the best way to get a grip on what you need to understand. Yup, I have my moments, guys.

I was taking a detour through old text files I've got saved on my computer and, of course, I came across dozens of poems that really sucked. But, let me tell you, there is always a sliver of something good among the bad. I found this poem I wrote back in October of 2011 titled "Night Waltz."

Dawn's awakening leaves her stiff

And the weary winds whipser her departure

She drifted off when the skies were clear

Long ago, when He called her Dear

Canopy grains sheltered her dreams

And kept her sleeping beneath the arms of Michael 

Soft lullaby, sweet timbre of the chosen waves

The darling child, freedom she craves

Guardian keeper of the night dances swiftly

Sways and sighs as the earth envelopes her womb

Bearer of daybreak homily, fragmented nature

Carrying the needed, sunshine allure

And the moon depresses to the ocean floor

Lady of the day sighs a sweet hello

There is a hush, the serenity is taken

And the child stirs, she is awakened

Almost every piece I've ever written has a "thing." This "thing" is normally my muse or train of thought running throughout the piece. It varies almost every time I sit down to write. Sometimes it's a good book I just finished, personal experiences, a certain holder of my heart, or even the pure insanity that sometimes is my mind. Honestly, I don't remember half of what my poetry means to me because sometimes I can't even recall writing any of it. This one, for instance, probably has a great "thing," but, sadly, I have no earthly idea what that "thing" could be.

I remember that the only thing I truly enjoyed writing in my high school creative writing class was poetry. It didn't need structure or plot or characters or anything like that. It didn't need substance or defined meaning. It didn't even need to make sense. I could make everything up, and no one would ever know because they could just decide for themselves what each line meant.

The last poem I wrote was in late September of 2012. I stopped because I got really depressed. The kind of depressed that takes over every aspect of your being. My muse seems to have gone out to have its own epic tale with sexy sirens. And it just hasn't returned home to me yet.

Then again, writing poetry takes an immense amount of concentration for me, so I wasn't even writing THAT much poetry to begin with. It has to be just right. My inner perfectionist had a field day with every stanza. I miss it, though. Somedays I think about opening up to a blank canvas and just going at it like I used to, but it just doesn't happen anymore. I guess this is the erectile dysfunction for poets.

Poet #1: Oh, bro, I totally busted out the hottest haiku ever last night!
Poet #2: No way! Lucky! I have the hardest time keeping mine at the right number of syllables. It's pretty embarrassing.
Poet #1: Aw, man. That's gotta suck. But who says life is all about busting out hot haiku's?
Poet #2: Yeah, it's not like human existence relies on it or anything.

Something like that, maybe.

It's amazing, though. Every song or rap every performed began as poetry. There are entire novels written in verse. People have become famous for writing poetry. It's part of English curriculum in most elementary schools. I just love it.

Perhaps one day my muse will come home to me with open arms, and I'll be able to bust out some hot haiku's again. Until then, my love. Until then...