Into that secret place where no one dares to go
I haven't been writing the way I normally do. I haven't been writing at all.
I have, however, become obsessed with cats. Not cats in person, though. Just over the internet. I prefer them in video form (possibly with my same name and playing piano, or as a montage of antics set to a Bjork song, YouTube that yourself), but I've been incredibly taken with this.
Taken is the wrong word. I don't know the word that describes the kind of laughter that makes your shoulders shake when you're sitting alone with your laptop, or makes you and your roommates collapse into a pile of bodies on the couch while one of you shakily tries to navigate to the next cat photo.
Anyway, I haven't been writing. I couldn't if I wanted to. But I didn't want to.
I realized that I'm a sharer. I'm an open book. Maybe too open. Yeah, I'd like to think of myself as mysterious but ask me one question and I will give you my entire life story. Especially if you didn't ask for it. I like that about myself, for the most part.
A friend described me as being an emotional sieve. Some things fall straight through me (rage, hysterical laughter) and some just get stuck inside me (melancholy, oh the melancholy). And maybe that's because I have no barriers, no shells, no walls. I'm just me, everyday. And I always will be.
People are always telling you to let it all out, to "talk about your feelings" and "get it all out there." By people I of course am referring to movies involving Tom Hanks and or Meg Ryan, but the point is that there is just as much value in keeping it to yourself. At some point, it all becomes too much, to be so emotionally naked.
Call me crazy, but something about being me on the Internet, about splashing my insecurities into print for the world to see, makes me feel too exposed. Maybe this is why for the past week I haven't been wearing pants in any of my dreams.
So I retreated a little, to save a little me for me.
Alright, you finally took my advice. Get off the INTERNET, or at least edit yourself. In my very eventful 24 years...creating a bit of mystery about yourself is far more intriguing than just letting it all hangout (in your case, literally at times). Perhaps this is why my girlfriend of forever still says "I don't know what he does" or this is why my mother explains "I have know idea where he is or what he is doing."--"Weaver, I’ve been a lot of places, seen a lot of faces,"-yet I don't have to kiss and tell about everything (God knows this would be far too humiliating). Sometimes, it’s cooler to sit back with a tilted Guess trucker hat and only give a taste, you can IMAGINE the rest. Nora, your Ben Wagner will come. Instead of him learning it on the internet, let him find out on his own you wear Xhilaration panties. It’s a hell of a lot sexier, (if any sexiness at all is to be found from such an unsexy reality). I know I am an EMO heart deep down, hell my Dashboard CDs are worn old from too many spins. But this sorta thing is much better finding out in those intimate settings, NOT over the F/ing internet. Anticipation is as good thing, if not better than reality…Just ask future Ben Wagner. He’s thinking hot pink Victoria Secret and than BAM reality…boring churchgoer gray/full back.
Didn't Ben Wagner play basketball for DLS?
The internet is the nexus of our lives. (read with a loud Southern accent)
nora,
i'm bored. start writing.
veda
come back soon, you are my original blog and I've never stopped checking your blog!