I made the mistake of looking before leaping just now. I had planned to jump back into blogging, pointy fingernails clacking out an inspired post. Instead, I got caught back up into the previous posts I had written, curious to see what it was that brought me here the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.
I hate getting a phone call or a text from someone that I know, that I'm quite close to, but feeling, for some reason or another, as if I don't know them. As if they're an alien species, a pseudo stranger, made psuedo by the fact that I do know them and stranger by the fact that I feel strange being in contact with a person that I don't feel like I know. Call it social amnesia, call it misanthropic tendencies, call it unfriendly, calloused, or just plain rude. At least we're calling like it is.
Reading over a my own blog feels the same way. There's the element of surprise, the disbelief and the unwillingness to admit that maybe, just maybe, you know exactly what they're talking about. It's like finding an ally at a dreaded luncheon. You're expecting to bored, to feel uneasy about being in a large group of half-hostile people, when suddenly someone laughs the right way, mtalkakes a comment about a pair of shoes, or comes at you with some random background fact that you share in common. You've found someone that understands you! You have *fill in random thiing!* in common, and now you know that there's someone else in the world who understands.
Oh blog. How did you know I love talking about my neurosis? You always know how to say exactly what I needed to hear. You know how to boost my confidence, if not in myself, then in my ability to debase my own confidence. Thanks blog. It's good to hear from you too.
Nov 11, 2009
The one and only
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