Keep On Creeping On

I thought I'd take a nap. Made myself into a nice little burrito with my comforter, had a squishy dog lying on me, heating up the parts that hurt. And then somewhere in the neighborhood a dog dared to bark, turning my Pug from a snugly puddle of cuddle into a stabbing mass of elbows, claws and barking all over my most tender areas. So fully awake and pummeled I'm going to make emotional diarrhea out of my fingertips.

Call it what you want, that's what all blogging basically is. Some people just have more relevant diarrhea.

This is a horrible start.

Anyway, blogs aren't all very... practical. But it's the personal ones, things like this one, that I love to read and reread. The odd little details of people's lives, thoughts, coping mechanisms.... I don't write this nonsense because I think the world wants to know. I pretty much write it because I'm full of too many thoughts and write as a sort of therapy. Also, for the odd few who might be like me and have the same perverted interest in other people's banalities. I love stories that if you told them to a live audience, their eyes (or mouths, if they hate other humans) ask, "Aaaand?" Those make some of the best blog posts ever. There are times talking to people when I see that blank stare that asks for the moral of the story and I think, "Whatever, that would have made a bitchin' blog post."

Somebody recently asked me why there aren't any comments on here. Well, because very few people are actually reading this. I'm actually really surprised at the number of views I sometimes get considering I can recall every individual that I have told about this abomination. And it's weird as hell when a friend refers back to this in real life conversation. I suppose I can't act too surprised that somebody might be interested when I am so interested in others, myself. But it feels weird perhaps since I am already so familiar with myself.

If I could freeze time for real, I would pause in the evening to read everybody's stories: what everybody did today, that funny "what if" you played out in your head as you were driving to work or putting off that intellectual task you were dreading. Yes, you. I would read the shit out of your blog. You are a unique and beautiful snowflake and I want to read all your weird, snowflake thoughts. I want to creep on everybody in the world.

The dog is back and I'm letting him lie on that spot again. I am truly a glutton for punishment.