Eradication of the masturbation rids of procrastination. Or procrastinationg of the masturbation is the same thing as eradication. Or the masturbation during procrastination isn’t eradication? Or…

Or I really just found a million things to do instead of sitting down and writing. There are these souls that walk this planet that feed upon your energy leaving you tired and unwilling to do more. They take what you have and wring you out like a sponge in hopes of more. They know that they can continue to suck the life force out of you whenever you give them a lick of attention. They don’t actually generate anything themselves, but they just feed on others like vampires of the night. How appropriate that we talk about this during the spoopy season. Boo. BOO I SAID! BE SCARED!

This day of mine was spent giving my energy to other people and working to somehow generate more for myself. Turns out, I didn’t exactly win the battle. My morning was sucked dry by a kind but complaining Karen (her name was really Karen) that spoke to me for all of 30 seconds before she started to unleash her life story upon me like the lashings of a whip. I found this ironically funny, considering her life must have only started 3 years ago when all her problems coincidently started. But she’s 65, so how could she have only lived since 3 years ago? Why wouldn’t someone focus on some positive stuff before focusing solely on the negative? Why is she telling me all the negatives? Why can’t she unleash a positive force upon me? Why wouldn’t she want to make the people she speaks to happier? I DON’T UNDERSTAND! KAREEEEEEEEEN! KAREN WHY?! WHY YOU DO DIS KAREN?

The middle of the day was spent with some exercise, trying to strengthen the body and mind but rid myself of the draining force that was left upon me like sawdust in a woodmill. After 90 minutes of her complaints during a solar consultation of all things (perhaps I should use solar as a guise to therapy?), my workout went without a hitch. I moved slow, felt overcaffeinated ready to simultaneously shit myself and vomit everywhere, but got it done. Immediately it was off to the next appointment. Holy shit was this guy even more eclectic. To give you an idea, the first time I met him, he came outside in his underwear. His neighbors told me that they saw him out in the rain the other day cleaning his mailbox with a leaf blower.

Something on my forehead must invite the most interesting people on the planet to talk to me. Universal Law of Attraction, I guess.

The house was a disaster, smelled of cigarettes to the point that it felt like I had smoked a carton myself, and communication was not his strong suit. His sister was there who was a self proclaimed gypsy, but was incredibly friendly and actually seemed coherent enough to be the voice of reason. After discussing our solar proposal, him now being excited to move forward, starts to lash out as soon as I explain that we need to secure any financing to make sure we can do the project… because who works for free these days? I was immediately kicked out, barked at, and told that “wishing him the best of luck with his future endeavors” was a backhanded compliment.

I don’t give backhanded compliments. I really can’t even understand the phrase “a backhanded compliment.” So the back of my hand is pretty? Should I be a hand model? Which hand? They’re both distinctly different, and in my own opinion, pretty disastrous looking. I don’t even insult people, but my goodness, this dude needed a hug. He’s not getting it from me, but this guy was certainly not getting enough love…not from himself, not from anyone.

Sometimes people just need a fucking hug, man. There are a lot of harmed, damaged, and upset people wandering this planet that just got ripped into for eons and for whatever reason, could never allow the love back into their lives. Maybe they never sought it out, maybe they just opened up once and now they can’t open up anymore. Whatever the reason is, this doesn’t negate the fact that they still need some compassion from someone. I only have 2 arms and so much time, I can’t get to everyone… but I surely try.

This post was harder to start than most. I’m unsure if it’s because I took off the past 2 days hurting my habits (whoops!) or because I was sucked dry by the people around me today, but I knew I couldn’t sit here any longer and NOT write. It was either this writing gets done or I was going to stare at the keyboard until my mind looped over and over letting me know that it’s okay to procrastinate some more. You could just take a short nap, right? Then you’ll get up and get back to work. You could just watch an episode of something and then you’ll get it done. No no no, you big silly bitch, we’re going to get it done NOW.

This is a fairly split post. Half of me is screaming about the procrastination issue while the other is screaming how so many people wandering around just need a big fucking hug. They also need solar, but the hug is the priority. If you’re going to spend 90 minutes of your day talking to me about the troubles of the last 3 years of your life or you’re going to live in a room that looks like Hurricane Katrina trampled through, you’re procrastinating on something. One person needs to clean his shit up. It’s a horrific way to live and your mind must be just as cluttered. If you’re going to talk for 90 minutes, then you’re putting off some work that needs to get done. We don’t even know each other, what the hell are you telling all of this to me for? The irony…I don’t know who the reader is, so why am I telling it all to you? BECAUSE THIS IS MYYYYYY THERAPY, DAMNIT.

For 2 reasons, I’m telling you, the reader.

1. I am done procrastinating today. I procrastinate on the procrastination so now I can chilll out when I’m done.
2. These people around us need a fucking hug and a goddamned ear to lend them. This is me giving myself a hug and the internet is lending its’ ear. Thanks.

Some people need to get a swift kick in the ass to get shit done, some need a hug to let them know that it’s all going to be okay, some need you to listen to their troubles so they can go back to their life. Either way, you can lend a hand.…or a foot if you’re going to kick their ass. Or a pen and paper, it’s seemingly working for me.