The Things We Do

In between parts of my regular soap, I was idly flicking channels. This is a thing I often do, much to the annoyance of everyone in the world.

I landed on this kids news show, where they were showing one of those random odd bits at the end. It was about a man who walks like a monkey everywhere he goes. I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but something made me keep watching.

And, long after I’d switched back to my soap, it stuck with me. Why was he doing this? What was this bloke’s motivation?

A very dangerous thought process began. Why do we do the things we do? What are our motivations for our choices in life? I mean, I know it’s different for everyone, but that was how my brain meandered from the tribulations of Sandra Oostermeyer on my soap to… well this.

Naturally, my brain turned to sex. What influences the choices we make in our sex life? Why do we do what we do in the bedroom? What motivates us to experiment with our sexuality?

I thought of my own choices in sex. Why did I choose to reply to Bloke’s initial comments? How did I go from skirting around to actually kissing people? What was my motivation to start masturbating in the first place?

I thought about the guest post I just wrote for a friend, on the topic of why I got in touch with my sexuality. Everyone has their own motives for what they do. And I really shouldn’t try to figure this out.

Still, that was where my brain was this afternoon. Trying not to think about money, being hungry or having godawful period cramps.

I’m over-thinking a lot today. I had a long chat with my counselor, and she actually made me cry. This thing about moving to London is taking on a life of its own. Mum is trying her best to motivate me to look for more flats, but honestly, it’s eating away at me. London is fucking expensive, and trying to get a solid footing there (more solid than the one I have now) is a tasking thing. 

I’ve managed to find one job that doesn’t requite a shite-load of experience, or degrees. I’m so fucking disappointed in the results of my search so far. Maybe I am tasking myself too hard, but apparently, this is a thing that’s necessary. I want to make a life for myself abroad, so I need to do this.

I started to think about my motivations and choices. Moving abroad has been a dream I’ve been trying to realize for a good five years now. I think I’m finally ready to take on the responsibility.What’s keeping me motivated is all the shitbags I’ve come across in life that said that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t strong enough. In a year’s time, I want to be able to say fuck you to them all. Fuck you for thinking that I wasn’t going to make it. Because I am motivated by my choice to not give up.

We all make choices. Things that can influence our life forever. Whether they are good or bad is a game of wait and see. And I’m fulling willing to risk everything to see if this works out.

 

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2 Comments

  1. This touched a couple of chords… your question about sexual choices pretty much sums up the appeal of reading – and writing – erotic fiction: it’s a fascinating process from process from first kiss to anal sex/BDSM/whatever. Also, I feel your pain on the jobhunting front: I had a meeting with my “adviser” yesterday, which at the time seemed pretty encouraging, but in the cold light of a wet walk home didn’t look so good… there just seems an endless procession of hoops to jump through, and no guarantee of any reward at the end…

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