A softer side of me.

I have three joys in life. This isn’t counting family or friends or anything/anyone else I love. These are just my joys, and they all start with ‘B’. Blackberries, Basketball and Blowjobs. These three things always make me happy, no matter what. I find enjoyment in watching or playing a good game of basketball. I find enjoyment in receiving a blowjob because, well…I really shouldn't have to explain. I also find enjoyment in picking and eating blackberries for numerous reasons to be explained later. It’s my dream to be eating a bowl of blackberries, while watching a basketball game, while receiving a mind-numbing blowjob. I might propose to a girl after that. I could die when I finish and be ok with it. Too bad it may never happen. Blackberry season and basketball season don’t coincide, therefore making the trifecta not conveniently possible. I’d have to buy berries from a store. I’m not a complainer though; two out of three ain’t bad. I had my first blackberry of the season the other day. I was out for a run when I passed a huge juicy berry hanging from a bush. That's when I remembeed it was that time of year. It’s my little guilty pleasure. Well actually, picking them is my guilty pleasure, eating them is just the payoff. I am never more at peace than when I am in the burning sun, getting stuck by numerous thorns, and turning my fingers and clothes purple with berry juice. It’s a Zen-type of thing, I guess. Soul clensing. It brings me back to a simpler time when I was young and innocent and I would pick a bucket full of berries and eat them on my friend’s porch while talking about whatever came to mind. Not having a care in the world. While out in the sun earlier this week, reliving my childhood, I had a revelation. Picking blackberries is really just a metaphor for life: Sometimes you have to get pricked a few times to get what you really want in life. I know it sounds corny and cliché, but its true.