I’m having a lot of trouble finding something to post about.
It isn’t that I don’t have anything to say. God knows, I have LOTS of things to say. But there are two hindrances:
Some of the stuff I want to say is stuff I can’t talk about. Not yet, anyway. I have quite a few things in the works, and I can’t discuss them without ruining it all. So *mmfff mmmmfffff mfmf mffm* (takes hand off mouth) until Spring or so.
I’m distressingly public. I really don’t make any attempt to hide my real life identity – so, if you tracked me down, stop patting yourself on the back. It’s pretty easy to get my name and address. Most of the people I know are well aware of the blog. They figured it out when I ran up to them and said “Hey, you have to go read my blog! It’s a big collection of random crap! With pictures!”
And THAT, of course, means that they can all read all the nasty stuff I say about them. I didn’t realize how much of a problem that would be until I got a phone call refuting one of the crazy stories, from someone who had a starring role. This person made it quite clear that they were not, in fact, as crazy as they had been made out to be.
Let me start by saying:
Denials are meaningless.
Secondly, damn it all, now I have to either resort to writing about random strangers or just put up with endless phone calls.
I did consider trotting down to Cinnabon in the mall food court, with a notepad and a pair of field glasses, to people watch and take notes on said random strangers while I had a nice sticky bun with pecans, but most of my posts about strangers have to do with What They Did to Piss Me Off This Time and I don’t see why I should subject myself to that. Also, each Cinnabon weighs about six pounds and contains enough calories to power a small nuclear reactor for a week or two, so I should probably rethink that plan.
I could put up with the phone calls, I suppose, and let it go to voicemail, but I happen to be one of those people who is completely incapable of letting the phone go to voicemail. I have been known to look at caller ID and shriek “Crap! I don’t want to talk to this person” in the split second before I pick up the phone, say hello, and act all surprised about who it is. I will even answer the phone to tell people that I am way too busy to answer the phone.
I guess I should have kept the blog a secret, but what would be the point of that? There’s no reason to bitch if nobody is listening. It’s like a tree falling in the forest.
I am convinced that blogs are insane. Write out your innermost diary thoughts, publish them on line, and tell everybody where to find them.
What the hell was I thinking?