Diversion, Collision, Inability To Pay Attention

My directions are both diverting and colliding at once, at least in my mind. I alternate between wishing I could purely concentrate on sex for this blog, but that would, given how much more I am than a sexual being, feel artificial. Not that those whose blogs purely focus on their status as sexual beings are artificial, but I can't separate the sexual from the rest of me. I tried. It didn't work. My sexuality is firmly woven in with everything else about me, from the food that I devour (I am a devoted lover of bacon and french onion soup, and a bagel soaked in butter brings me an obscene amount of joy) to the more-than-occasional heavy waves of depression and other mental joys that leave me wanting to either take this here keyboard and beat myself upside the head with it. Add in everything else and it is no blasted wonder that I cannot separate anything about myself.

Lifes little ironies, I suppose, given how much I love putting physical stuff in designated compartments so that I know exactly where it is. Or digital stuff. No, really, you should see my porn. It's organized into these folders: BDSM, Blonde, Boys, Brunette, Legs And Feet, Lesbian, Redhead, Straight, Strap-On, Tits And Ass And Twat. For the record, the last one is for all female-body-shots where hair colour is not available. For the curious, the Brunette folder has way more photos than any of the others. I seem to have a preference. Not that you'd notice offline, when I'm out and about all attractive females illicit the same result. Attractive males when I'm out and about are far less likely, for some reason. Or maybe I'm just biased when it comes to males. Yes, that makes sense.

I have become distracted again. This is what happens when I'm allowed to surf the internet while writing. I get distracted. Not that this is anything new to anyone who's been reading, given my amount of posts that read like a pervy chipmunk on crack yammering on about this and that and oh! Oh! Nuts!

Anyhow, the point is, it's vaguelly ironic that while I attempt to compartmentalize my physical life (It's unsuccessful due to my in-laws being of the disorganized fucking disaster area chaos variety), and succeed at compartmentalizing my digital life (Easy due to how much simpler it is to make a folder on the external drive and move things around), my brain probably never will function on a compartmentalizing-level. I can force myself to not thing about things while doing other things (Until this very moment, I had not thought about warcrack while writing, and despite thinking about it, I have not got the urge to go play it), but I cannot simply say to my brain 'Okay. We're writing now. Concentrate on that and only that'. Because when I say that, my brain responds with 'Okay! Let's do th-Gotta check google reader! Might be webcomic post! Or recipes! Or PORN!'.

It was actually how to tell the difference between a couple different types of potatoes. Yeeeah, I'm getting work done here real good!

Although honestly, at this time of day my RSS feeds are much less distracting than twitter. All the news sites are flooding my feed, and it will continue throughout the day, and seeing as I get 98% of my news via twitter (So does Steven, it's really quite nice for sparking discussion. 'Did you see ____?' 'Yeah, that was shocking'. Yeah, we're dorks), I tend to pay attention.

I had a point in here somewhere. I know I did. Compartmentalizing. I was going to say something deep about it. This is why I shouldn't write blog posts when I've been up all night! Even if I did only get up about twelve hours ago and theoretically should be able to stay awake without fatigue for four more hours. Theoretically. That's why I'm on my second cup of coffee. And why I'll likely consume much more today, as I have vital-to-the-state-of-my-universe-plans, namely seeing a friend and then going grocery shopping with another friend and I'm unlikely to sleep before sometime tomorrow morning, as tonight there is to be D&D with my kickass Aasimar rogue. Yep.

In general world updates: I got a hitachi. There is nothing I can say about it that has not been said by other amazing bloggers. All I can really say is 'Holy motherfucking crap'. And 'Holy shit I don't have to grind against it like it's a girl and I'm a douchebag at a bar'. And 'Holy SHIT THIS FEELS GOOD EVERYWHERE'. Yeah, it's been getting used for what the packaging says it's meant for even more than it's been used on me. I don't know what the fuck is fucked up with my back (Aside from being fucked up and the fact that I'm right now currently thisclose to being menstrual – at least I damn well better be as if that bitch is late I am going to go nuts – and his back being fucked up in different ways that make massage by hand not always effective), but it helps. And up by my neck it makes me talk funny!

Anyhow. This has been another installment of Gypsy Is Incapable Of Keeping On-Topic (Unless it's Serious), I'll be back soon (Hopefully).

PS – I'm 21 and this blog is 3. I would do an actual celebratory post but I can't think of one. Have cake for the respective birthdays if you so desire. Or an orgasm.