Therapy Shmerapy

I really don't enjoy writing here anymore. Everyone I used to enjoy reading has either left or just bored the hell out of me that I don't care to even be around. Most of all, these same people have sucked the inspiration out of me to continue writing.

All last week, I was sick. I got to stay home from work, doctor's orders so laying around in bed wasn't so bad. Unfortunately, b/c of this, I missed out on going to the Super Bowl... 1st row... for free. My roommate went with another friend. And although I'm not sure what happened b/c I haven't really talked to him yet, I do know that he went to the Hawaiian Tropic party and the Penthouse party hosted by Snoop Dog. How bad could it have been? Of course this isn't helping me feel any better.

A couple weeks ago, I started seeing a therapist b/c I am not particularly fond of my job. I am talking to this "professional" b/c I want to make sure that this position is the real problem here and it's not some childhood experience of the babysitter touching me where I pee from way back. But I use the word professional in quotes b/c I'm not sure what she does on a professional level. I think she's a professional listener, but that's about it. She doesn't say shit when we meet and I sit there and basically swear a lot. I tell her things on how I can't stand my job and by the way, women are bitches. I should probably up the ante on her next time. I look at her occasionally to see measure up if she's freaked out at all but she gets paid not to flinch. I'm sure she's seen a lot worse anyway. It's not like I'm walking in there with a 3 ft crucifix sticking out of my ass but I would almost consider it to get a reaction out of her. I wonder how she would react if I asked her politely if I could place my penis on her toungue? We usually meet later on when no one's in the office building. She would have to get nervous if I started in with that shit. Although, it's probably a bad idea, she probably has a hand cannon hidden in the wall pointed directly at my head at all times in case things with her patients get a little crazy.

I guess the weirdest part about going to see her is that I really don't know how I'm supposed to act or what I'm supposed to say. To be honest, when I'm in there, I'm mostly ashamed that I am there. I've always sorted things out on my own. And for the most part, I am a healthy individual with no real alarming issues. It's not like I'm tied down to a wheelchair or came from some broken, abusive shithole of a family. I just have some shit that I can't sort out and my job is driving me crazy. How is that different from anyone else? Maybe it's b/c of my self-destructive side, maybe it's b/c I know that something is wrong that I need this. I don't know. All I do know is that she better give me something for feedback next time... listen time is over, you better start saying some shit lady.

I will say that I have enjoyed most of the feedback from people here. Even from the way dark times from way back when I first started this crazy ride we call blogging. That's been a lot more helpful than Dr. Says-Nothing.