bright, bright lights

Sometimes when I'm really hungry, over caffeinated, hung over or head-rushed, I see stars.

I'm sure this happens to a lot of people.

Yet the strangest thing is that within the last month the stars have changed color.

They used to be white lights, now they're blue.

I don't really know what this means, just as long as they don't turn into psycho-red dots.

nay-sexual

A couple days ago, it was nearing the end of the day and something interesting occurred to me:

I hadn't been turned on once the entire day.

In truth, everyone gets sexually turned on by something daily, if not by the minute (you know who you are). There's nothing at all wrong with that. Yet on this day, I had nothing. Not a dirty thought entered my mind nor a smokin' be-hind to look at. So, naturally you can understand the gravity of this, because I noticed it right away.
I was so excited by this fact that I quickly walked home so that I could write about it. But on the way, sadly, this girl walking past me was popping huge cleav' and we eye-fucked for about two seconds. Great. My experience was completely ruined by really nice boobs. Now I'll have to wait another 23 years until it happens again.

yogurt

Come September, I think I'll start doing some yoga.

I sat down the other day and really micro-managed my mental health and realized:

Although on the surface I consistently appear calm, my soul races with stress on the inside.

I think this has been the case for quite some time. It has always (ever since I can remember) been my style to just shrug things off and let them resolve itself in my head, mainly when I sleep. My family has always known this, and I am occasionally called "a fart in a windstorm", mostly because I just drift through life seamlessly without a care in the world.

Until recently, I realized differently.
There is a small sign in the gym, here in my condo. It states:

Stress can be related to 90% of all illness.

True or not, it scared the shit out of me.

Maybe I've lived so strongly by my carefree lifestyle for so long, I've neglected the possibility of having any stress in my life at all. Now that I do, I have no idea what to do with it. I usually play my music loud enough in my headphones to drown out any concrete thoughts that may come floating in. My mom wants me to see a therapist because, after all, my personal life took a huge beating these past two years. I've never been too keen on the whole idea, probably because I'm old school and think therapy is an expensive way of dealing with your problems. After all this I can only rationalize one thought:

Isn't life fucking sweet, folks?

Just when you thought you were as cool as can be, life switches the picture and smacks you on the head. Just when you thought life was all figured out, your mind throws a stick in the spokes and tells you to handle it. I'm fine with that, because the path to self-discovery is like finally learning how to factor or long-divide numbers in Grade 11 math. When you realize something is wrong, what else is there to do than to tackle that motherfucker and get to the bottom of it? You can ignore it all you like. Shit, I've done it for most of my life.

I'm pretty sure there is a literal mass of neglected stress, stories, memories, and images stored somewhere in my body. It has to have created mass by now. I'm assuming it's either in my brain, my stomach, my heart, or my balls. Wherever it may be, it's time for a reduction.

So maybe some yoga will do.