The podcast is a reading of this post and is 6 minutes and 20 seconds. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments. You can subscribe to the podcast on iTunes
Email subscribers, you can right click to download the podcast or click to listen in your browser with this link.
I have to admit I was a little scared writing this because I’ve become comfortable in this little corner I’ve been carving out for myself.
That being said, comfort is the balm of the unaware and in order to continue writing my own story I have to push my boundaries and bleed from the eyes from the effort I put in to this.
This isn’t a hobby, a side project, it is something I love. I love writing, and I love this topic I am exploring, but really, what I’m exploring, what we’re all exploring, is life.
You’re supposed to be specific in your blogging niche.
Well, I can write about this stuff and it’s great, but there are other things that interest me.
Among other things, I like
So things are gong to change a little bit around here. This blog is really a continuation of my #portaraitaday project and to continue that I have to really explore myself as much as I write content that is enjoyable or useful to you dear readers.
So things are going to change.
I’m probably going to swear more. See, here’s something you don’t know about me. I like to swear. I really like the word “Fuck”.
It’s a beautiful word. I worked in a couple of different factories over the course of ten years, and if you know anything about factory environments, you know that the air is blue with cursing. For example in a factory we worked in we would measure things in terms of cunt hairs. So if we had to make a tiny machine adjustment, it was a “cunt hair” and if it was a super tiny adjustment, it was a “red cunt hair”
That’s kind of dirty and I don’t really talk like that anymore, but I still curse. I use to be too loose, swearing around kids like the bad uncle that doesn’t watch his language. I don’t really want to be that guy, but my language here is going to get a little more colorful.
Because in the end, as my friend Tim writes, “It’s all about me.”
It is, but it isn’t, and what you’ve been reading, that is me. Don’t think I’ve been hiding. I am genuinely me in this space, but I haven’t opened the door of this writing space to all of me.
Which is interesting because when I was working through my portraits, that was raw, and it was all me. All of it, the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, foul, clean, bright and beautiful.
Becasue in the end, life is about me, it’s about you, and everything under the sun pertains to that.
And that means I’m going to talk about whatever the fuck I want.
To open this up a little bit I’m going to take a page from a bunch of other bloggers, who bare their souls and lay it all out here in public.
Here are some other things you may or may not know about me. (If you’ve followed my portraits or twitter for awhile, some of this may not be new, but I know I have some new folks out there reading as well, so here it goes.)
I’m a selfish bastard
I try not to be, but more often than not I am. This means that many times I am not as kind or loving or caring to my wife as I should be, and it is something that I am ashamed of. In putting this here in this public space for all of you to read, I am letting go of that shame, and opening my love to my wife. I love her, but I’ve let my selfish nature get in the way for far too long.
I’m terrible at getting shit done
I am so bad at this. I look good and organized on the surface, but right below that I’m a disorganized mess. I’ve tried lots of different methods to get things done and keep track of what I have to do and so on and so on, but I just haven’t found anything that works for me yet.
I suspect this is something like my care for my body. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s that I don’t really actually want to do it yet. Despite the cognitive yearning I have for being more effective in things, I haven’t found the well of desire in my heart and soul to fuel the simple act of getting shit done like I have in caring for my body.
I’m mediocre in bed
You may or may not want to hear this, and I should have included this in the “We are men” post, but sometimes I just suck in bed. My sex drive is a little fucked up, which may be partly because of my thyroid, but is more than likely because of item number one. (the selfish bastard part)
I ejaculate quickly
I’m not fixating on sex, but these are some of the things that have been gnawing at me and in exorcising them I can let go and change them. I know this is partly physical, and mostly mental, so if any of you guys out there reading have tips, let me know.
Turns out I’m not alone in this. I can last anywhere from 3-5 minutes, which is okay, but not great.
I’ve tried counting, and controlled breathing helps a little, but when my wife and I are doing our thing, she makes me feel good, and you can’t always argue with that so any pointers will help.
I’m actually kind of shy
It may not seem like it, and others say I have an easy way with people, but I don’t always feel that way. It goes back to the bit I said last week about talking to women, but often I’m scared shitless talking to anyone.
I don’t understand men
I explored this a little bit in my #portraitaday project, but if you look at my twitter stream and look at who I have the really intense and deep converstaions with, it’s women. I don’t get men, and I have this inability to hold longer term conversations with most of them.
I don’t even try to go out of my way and befriend women over men, it just happens.
I have big fucking feet
Size 16 to be exact. Oh, and that thing about big feet and big dicks? Not true. Average here.
I haven’t talke to my father in over six years
This isn’t entirely true, but it is effectively true. I did talk to him for less than 5 minutes a couple of months ago after I found out he nearly died from a blood clot, but that wasn’t a meaningful conversation. It was hardly a conversation at all.
I was the kid in school that got picked on and bullied
I hated school for that reason. Fucking hated it. I spent most of my childhood buried in books. I don’t regret that, and I’ve let go of that hate and resentment over what happened, but as I was living it, I hated it. The name they taunted me with in school was Booger.
I pick my nose
I did it when I was a kid, and I do it now. The difference is now I use a kleenex. How the hell else am I supposed to get the boogers out? And don’t pretend you don’t pick your nose. It’s like masturbation. 70% of people admit they masturbate, and the other 30% are lying (I’ve heard that quote before but I don’t know where it’s from. I’ll happily credit if you link me up in the comments)
Yeah, like you didn’t see that coming.
That’s it, this is me. There will be more, as I change and grow, as I let go and learn.
Tell me something about yourself in the comments.
Now, take your finger out of your nose and show everyone you’re not afraid to be who you are by sharing this via the tweet and like buttons below.