I decided it was time for a change, because I’m not going anywhere for the time being. That means new layout, new post, new tagline that I’ll change when I come up with something better… and taking my (full) name off of what I’m writing because, although I’m aware anyone with enough time could track me down, that will hopefully be too much effort and I can enjoy at least the illusion of anonymity.
What’s my dilemma? Maybe the better question is what isn’t my dilemma? Right now, I feel like I need to explain everything. I always feel like that, and then I end up with way too much context. But I don’t have to do anything like that – the most pressing current dilemma is that I get anxious typing too much on my computer. I want to write so badly, but I stumble over words, start putting too much context, and then I’ll have my mom or sister ask me what in the world am I doing (ok, that doesn’t always happen, but I don’t want to say I’m writing… and then have them ask what I’m writing about, because I don’t have an answer for that either).
Another dilemma: categories. Why the hell do I have so many? It seems so cluttered, and I have some that might as well be multiples.
This is all to distract me from the fact that I’m disappointed in myself. Not every waking moment, but overall?
STOP SLAMMING THE DOOR.
Sorry, that was for my mom. I want to take it out, delete it, but… I’m tagging this with honesty so in it shall stay. I live with my mother and younger sister. My mother is somehow incapable of simply shutting the door that goes from our kitchen out to the garage. Instead, she slams it, as if she doesn’t have the time for that extra step it takes, or the door has a faulty frame that required extra “oomph” to ensure it stays closed. I also honestly think she just enjoys rattling the entire structure of our home, whether it’s 7 a.m. or 10:30 p.m.
My mom takes up a lot of my focus and energy. There’s a lot of baggage there, baggage I can’t just be sharing with the world because, I still live with her.
Everyone’s parents screw their kids up a bit – it’s a fact of life. It can be totally unintentional, but it doesn’t change the fact that it affects me. When in my case, my parent can’t acknowledge or recognize that she’s ever done any wrong (and now that I’m an adult, I’m not innocent either, I know), and I’ll just go ahead and say I feel like it was more than the average “oops,” well, it makes it that much harder to process and forgive and move on.
This wasn’t supposed to be about my mom or my family, but to hell with it – this certainly goes under the category of “underlying problems.”
Did I add too many tags?
Hello over thinking! My constant companion and ever loyal friend. Too many tags? Wrong category? Did I share too much? Is someone going to tell me how terrible of a writer I am? I’m trying to decide if I like the voice I’m writing in at the moment; it’s so uncertain and spastic, not at all the usual calm, articulate, knowledgeable one I try so hard to put out in public. Sure I let this out writing in a journal, but all the “how-to’s” expressly warn against this sort of lolly-gagging.
Door slam #2.
I’m not supposed to write like this. This kind of writing was for LiveJournal and MySpace and the early blogger sites. Not a professional WordPress site, or my personal brand.
Door slam #3.
Someone I know in real life might find this… and tell her… and then what? We haven’t had a good ‘fight’ in a while, so I am a bit worried we’re due, but can’t say for sure. Or maybe a future employer, although jokes on me because I won’t be looking for a full-time job any time soon! Fuck you narcolepsy. Can I say how good it feels to just swear in writing? I’ve been so tight-knit lately, and especially in pretty much all the writing I’ve done this year. Now I’m really questioning whether I should publish this, or make this dusty draft number 37 (hope I’m not the only one with this problem…) in my poor queue. It’s so hard to determine if what I’m writing has any possible potential for value to anyone, now or later.
I have this little problem where I mistake my value for the image I think I need to portray, or the next accomplishment I see looming on the horizon. I can’t separate the two. I see now that it is, in fact, probably not good, but I don’t even know the extent of it yet. I’m kind of hoping to figure some of that out with this whole new look thing, but as I alluded to, a new look isn’t going to make my keyboard any quieter and I’ll just have to get over that.
So, yes, this is different. And scary to post. Because it’s me… not Advocate Me, not Recreation Therapist Me, not Equestrian Me, Sister Me, Runner/Healthy Me or Academic Me, or even Political Advocate Me, it’s just… me.