Digital Locker room

www.thevisualizer.net 

I stumbled across this site a while ago, and have been fascinated by it since.  I think there are a few categories of people here:

1. Monster weiner guys who come to show off and get an ego boost

2. Tiny weiner guys who come to be degraded by themselves, enjoying the shame they already feel in a masochistic way.

3. Guys who are gay/bicurious/a little homo who come to look at other dudes dongs and try to get all frisky inside by comparing

4. People like me, who are probably too curious for their own good as to how they stack up.  

Now, I understand that there are differing opinions on the size of a man's penis, both from men and women.  Overall, the report is that, for the most part, it's not the most important thing in the world.  Where size does seem matter is in girth.  I have also read that size matters in relation to extremes, as neither a micropenis nor a mandingo dick would be enjoyable for a huge majority of women.  It seems as though evolution, or God, or fate, has put men at the correct size overall, with some deviation occurring. 

Research tell us that 50% of all men are under 5.5-6 inches long.   Approximately 2% of all men are 7 inches, with <1%>

Since it seems to be the more important of the two dimensions, thickness should also be examined.  5 inches is just above average, with 6 inches occurring approximately 2-4%, and 7 inches almost never (but that's a coke can, so come on!).  

Thus the most often occurring penis is 5.5-6 inches long x 4.5-5 inches around. The most often occurring vagina, when aroused, 5-6 inches deep x 1.5-2.5 inches wide (4.71-7.85 around). So, most men and women match up well, even though most men are not going to stretch their partners vagina each time they have sex. 

So, if most women are satisfied by their partner's size, and most men do not come close to the magical (in my mind) marks of 8 inch dicks that women take notice of, why do most men, and some women, continue to make it a big deal? 

I am not planning on disclosing my size. (If you're curious, ask me, and we can talk about it, although I would guess most of the people who read this blog are not interested for one reason or another)  However, I will say that I do not lack, and I have used the above site to compare myself to others.

How women view themselves, parallels this issue: most men see their partner much more kindly than she sees herself.  It is an issue of self-image, body appreciation, and understanding. I don't deny that I get fascinated by knowing that I'll never have a penis big enough to make a porn star quiver.  The idea of my inadequacy frightens me, captivates me, holds me to look at dark parts of myself.  I think women (or men) read beauty magazines in a similar way: comparing themselves, seeing where they are better or worse.  

I don't know what causes people to be so down on themselves, why we feel a need to compete and push against others in an effort to demonstrate our own inadequacies.  I know why I do it, but I believe it is vital for us to pick up our eyes when we walk in the shower rooms.  Instead of looking at the body of the bather next to us, hoping to see how we are better or worse, we should just look in the mirror, and move past the darkness that so often binds us to our petty self-loathing. 

Counseling

I made such a big deal about my search of mental health treatment, and now I am going to write about it.  I have had less than 10 sessions thus far, and, after finding the write provider for me, I am finally starting to make some progress.  At first, I was seeing a woman who was a bit... wishy washy.  She did not direct me, did not advise me, did not offer new insights, just kept me going in a mental circle.  And believe me, if I wanted that, I could sit in my room in the dark and listen to my internal dialogue all day. 

The other person I have found to be insightful, sharp, and more equipped to wade through and disentangle the important things from the remainder of my mental dissertations.  She is helping me just say stuff, and is, for once, removing me from my mind.  I am able to feel things more, to escape the cognitive trappings that wait for me. 

No major revelations yet, but I anticipate things will get better as I continue.  For now, I can say without question that I want to go to counseling every day and never want it to end.  I always feel better when I leave, and it is something to look forward to throughout the week.  Hopefully I can find some things out, so that I can have other things to look forward to throughout the week.

Thank You

To anyone who has served, serves, or is on their way to serve in our military:

Thank you.  Thank you for doing something so strong and brave.  Thank you for giving me the freedom to complain, to explore, to watch the sun rise over a beautiful landscape. Thank you for not expecting to hear thank you, thank you for not expecting anything, even the things everyone you serve takes for granted. Thank you every day of the year, not just the 11th of the 11th of the 11th.  

She's a Little Young

I have dated women who are older than me always.  There have been a few passing fancies for girls who are a few months younger than me, but nothing serious, nothing physical, nothing that counts.  Recently, a girl has spent some time around me, thanks to her being friends with my younger brother's girlfriend.  She is younger than me, and very very cute.  Great smile, pretty eyes, looking good in her little thin girl sweats (I love those). 

I anticipate most of the people who read my blog are older than me, and are probably thinking, "Younger than you? Good God, man, don't break the law!" All silly and projected dramatic thoughts aside, she can buy tobacco and vote, so I won't be doing any time in the pokey. 

I don't know exactly how to feel about this.  You see, I would not have any problem with taking this girl to get a smoothie and make out with her. But she's about to finish high school, and yikes! The fact that she touches me a lot when she comes over, and the fact that I have to mentally recite Bible verses when she's around, mean that something there is worth exploring.  If anyone would please give me their input on this subject I would appreciate it, because I need someone's perspective-- someone who isn't bound by their own idiotic worries about people's judgment.  

Thanks.

Apologize for Apologies

I am sorry to anyone who reads this blog still.  Sorry for my negativity, for my angst, for my frustration, for the petulance that I appear to be filled with.  I am sorry for saying sorry for everything.  I want to make my life better, I want to see the world like I once saw it.  I want to understand the beauty within someone I hate.  I want to.  

The frustration lies with the dissonance between that cognitive want and a seeming inability to fulfill that desire.  I do not know what else to do.  I have used this blog as a canvas for my darkness, that part of me that I try not to share with other people.  I just feel myself becoming something I despise.  You are not responsible for suffering that.  I know better.  I will return to my light hearted, witty, shirtless subject matter, and let you know when my mental health treatment returns me to the man I was once, the man I should be.  

Boundless  compassion. Forgiveness to infinity heart of fathoms depth I can reach I can hold I can do what you want.  Drink in beauty tastes like your lips. Angles of your knees play like kaleidoscopes as my sleeping eyes watch you dress. Hair dances over my face, on point while I wake to you voice breathing into my core. Soft, saccharide, promising skin sweeps over my warm waking eyes. Love means nothing when you don't have to say it. Words hold no power in a delicate glance. we find each other in the breadth of my arms, breathing in nothing but what exists there. Momentous existence frees us from our greatest burdens.

Life Threatening

I went paddling on a nearby, famous for around here, creek.   Some of the rapids on this water can have severe consequences.  All of the water I have paddled to this point has been relatively safe, in that, if one turns over or swims (has to exit their boat), the biggest threat is some rocks to the head or body.  While that may sound dangerous, helmets and manliness prevent any real danger from being presented.  This creek, however, will separate shoulders, break noses, and tear up someone who doesn't respect it.  I knew this coming in.  

Before I entered some of the major rapids, another paddler in my group told me how to proceed, etc.  I went over a 10 foot waterfall without being afraid.  I went down huge rapids that wreak havoc on boaters with much more experience or equipment than me, without being afraid.  On one occasion I was in a very, very dangerous position, literally barely balancing on the edge of a scary turn of events.  When I escape unscathed (and rather stylishly, might I add), the guy with me, who basically helped found the sport in the area (he's so good, he ran the creek at midnight), told me he had never seen anyone do anything like that in that particular rapid.  I distinctly remember sitting and looking at him while I was being retained by the hole, and him yelling at me to get the fuck out of there, and get ready to catch a rope.  I wasn't scared.

I walked around one rapid, as I knew that I was not ready for it, and the consequences were too serious for me to try to luck my way out of.  I wasn't scared of the rapid, did not feel any sympathetic nervous responses, I just knew I was going to portage.  All of these very dangerous events, and nothing evoked a true, primal fear from me.  That concerns me.

I went to the counselor for my second session a day or two before the paddle.  She started to piss me off when she continued asking, "What would make you feel better?" 

"If I knew what I could do to improve my state of mind, I would do it."

"Well, perhaps I'm asking the question wrong.  How will you know when you do feel better?"

"I will know I am better when I no longer feel this way."

That conversation took 30 minutes.  This woman had to get a doctorate to fucking ask me these questions? I am extremely impatient for her kid-gloving me around when I am paying for her to ask me and tell me things I already told her, and when I have spent the last 10 months inside my own head, to no avail, only to come to a professional who cannot seem to do a better job than I can.  Jesus tittyfucking Christ.  My life is wasting away.  Every day I spend in this half-state of being is a day I cannot recover, a day that I just used up resources and expelled carbon.  The creek did not scare me.  The fact that I was so numb to it's threats, and that the fucking therapist won't move the fuck on and help me while I spend day after day trying to escape the overwhelming dread of a life wasted on repetitiveness and liminal bullshit, scares me.  It keeps me up at night.  All the while I just wonder whether I will ever feel better, whether anything can help me, or whether I need to just go to my MD and ask him for some SSRI's and Viagara.  At least then I will be able to act like I'm having a good time.  

All of this ranting to express my dread of a hopeless future, and a dead life.  That's what it is now, just a life of dying, daily.