The Rapture of My Overgrown Clitoris

It has been a while since I got something written down for my little blog. I don't know if anyone would get to read this anymore but I owe it to myself to have paragraphs for posterity--like a photo album of words that I could flip through, just like that new Facebook timeline but with blog entries. I blame my new phone--it has a nice camera so I took myself to just taking photos instead of writing. Or it's just laziness.

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Which brings me to my first entry for 2012, the first of many until the world ends in 11 months. There's nothing wrong with believing the impending rapture and doing a little carping of the diem. There's a lot of opportunities to seize everyday but one thing that gets overlooked is the opportunity to change, so I'm blogging a couple of things that I would like to improve. I'm writing it down hoping that it doesn't just stay as a flickering reminder in my flaky consciousness. So that with some arcane power of the universe it will manifest. Or serve as a contract with myself.

This year, I will try my best to limit my shoe buying to a maximum of one pair every 3 months. It's a genetic weakness. My mom has heaps of wedges and stilettos, my brother is willing to shell out a premium for some rare Jordans that he would only wear a couple of times, and I have stopped counting when I got to thirty pairs. My sidekick's argument against shoe hoarding is that I only got two feet. My argument is that there's 365 days a year. Nobody's going to win that debate. Now I wanna tell myself that where I'm going is more important than the shoe I'm walking in. Unless it's walking towards the shoe store and there my goes my modicum of resolve. It is fucking going to be a challenge.

I will try my best not to be late for work. I really don't know what's wrong with me. Technically, my shift starts at 1030AM so I get to work at 11. When my shift used to start at 930AM, I would arrive at 10. It doesn't make sense but changing is a bitch. My brain needs a little rewiring.

I need to stop jacking off to lesbian porn. I'm kidding; it is gross.

One thing I won't be changing about myself is my penis. I like the way it is right now. I got mad respect for my sisters who get theirs chopped off. I will never be able to live without mine. I just think of junior as an overgrown clitoris that I can pee with. I don't want to be separated from my clitoris.

And I'll try to blog some more. I like how it loosens the little knots in my brain like a mental massage. I've almost forgotten the quiet enjoyment of not only being alone with your thoughts but also having a personal dialogue that can sometimes be surprisingly enlightening.