A couple of things happened today that made me pause: my GERD came back, and I started breaking out in hives again. So, I made some decisions:
- The show does not have to go on, and on, and on. (Trent, you saw the creepy there. That made me really happy. I wanted to tell you, but technical difficulties attacked right then. I thought you should know.)
- I like to make people happy. I hate it when I feel like I’m letting someone down. I’ve only been here a month, and I’m stressing because I’ve been so fatigued, and I feel like I’m letting you down. This is just stupid, so I’m going to take a hard look at my “following” list, and I’m going to trim it. I can’t automatically follow everyone who follows me. It’s a shame, really, because there are so many talented people here. You guys amaze and astound me. I wish I could read and comment on everyone’s blogs, but I have to be reasonable about my physical and mental limitations, not to mention the relative importance of my contributions. (Seriously, who the hell do I think I am?) So, if I unfollow you, please understand that it really IS me–not you.
- Sometimes I’m going to like your posts without commenting. Maybe I like what you said, but I don’t have anything meaningful to contribute. Maybe I wanted to say something but I couldn’t remember the the right words for things. Maybe I’m just too damn tired, and I can’t stay awake long enough to do more than click a star. It sucks, yo, but I make the effort I can.
- Sometimes I’m going to make stupid and pointless comments on your posts because I have a really weird sense of humor. Or maybe I can’t seem to stay asleep for more than 3-4 hours at a time, and I’m feeling punchy. Maybe you just bring out my inner goof. (heh. INNER. right.) Whatever. It’s totally cool if you don’t want to comment back. I understand.
- I’m going to keep doing writing challenges because I enjoy them. For some reason I really don’t fathom, this seems to increase the number of people following me. Some of the people who follow me are WAY more talented than I could ever hope to be. I’ll be honest with you. Whenever that happens I feel like this:
I may have low self esteem, or I may be onto something. It’s probably a bit of both. But I’m not going to worry about that anymore ’cause number two. (Not THAT number two. Gross.)
- I’m going to keep writing bad poetry. I’m going to keep making weird and creepy “art” and telling corny jokes and sad stories. I’m probably going to keep reading aloud because I like it (but no more videos ’cause that shit sucks the life right out of the words). Oh, yeah, and I’m obviously going to cuss. In fact, I’m pretty much going to do whatever I please, and I’m not going to worry if anyone besides me likes it.
Ok. I feel better now. Later, gators.