I have been thinking for days about various themes and ideas to write about and none of them come together into any cohesive type of idea. There are things I want to write about but dare not. There are things I want to write about but they feel to large to encompass. There are things I want to write about but the people I would be writing about read this and I can’t do that if I am not willing to talk to them. (cue theme to, “You’re So Vain…”)
So what I think I want to say is that my blog, at this time is like a teasing dangly carrot on a stick.
Why bother to talk about how I feel because who really gives a shit? I mean, why bother to talk about what I think or feel or see? This voyeuristic venue is grating on me and makes me feel like I am in some kind of competition to be liked, thought of as clever and interesting. I am none of those things on a regular basis and feel like this blog shit is a sham. I am all jazz hands and top hats when in fact I am actually holes in my panties and two left feet.
Do you remember that confusion over social situations you felt when you were, say, um, like in 7th grade? Or pick whatever age you felt simultaneously acutely aware of your ineptness and your desire to be a part of things and you have got what I mean. Is this what a mid life crisis feels like? Like you are coming unglued or maybe it was water soluble glue anyway and not crazy glue? Not permanent no matter what you thought?
fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck. (that is incredibly fun to type btw). fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.
Whiny and self serving. Boring and repetitive. Bland just like everyone else. I was listening to This American Life yesterday and the guy that does it said that he was watching the OC and they said, “Hey, isn’t that show by those hipster types who talk about how fascinating ordinary people are?”
Yes, that is what blog life, or much of it, is. LOOK how clever and amazing I am. OR even more loathsome, I am so funny because I can mock my self and others wink nudge burp cough bleck in a clever way with made up words and long expansive sentences, like this one, to say how unamazing I think I am.
I feel like that creature in the M. NIght Shamalain movie about those people who voluntarily become like pilgrims in the woods and the grown ups create a mythical creature for everyone to be afraid of to keep them from venturing out into the world. A fake and if you look closely, you can see the stitching and glue and it isn’t at all what you thought. Not nearly as wild as you thought. Pretty stupid, really.
and praise the trees, wordpress has finally put back my spell check button because i can’t spell. Thanks progressive open space schools!