dear pretty white trash and pete, who have recently called me out for not saying anything interesting of late:
i'm working on it.
in reality, of course, i am completely ecstatic that Two! Whole! People! actually read my blog and notice when i slip into complete and total slacker-dom.
it may even be a fact that after i read your comments, i walked into the living room and told my roommate that Two! Whole! People! had noticed that i wasn't writing anything. however, this story is unsubstantiated. or something.
clearly, i have been neglecting my blog. badly.
i guess you could say that i've been having a sort-of crisis of faith about the whole blogging issue.
i needed to take a minute to decide what my boundaries are. i had to figure out, for myself, what it is--and is not--appropriate to share with the blogging public.
the issue came to a head last week, when a Really Freaking Hysterical thing happened to me.
as soon as it was over, i looked at my roommate and said:
but, you know what? i'm glad that happened. because i'm totally going to blog about that tomorrow, and it's going to be Really Freaking Hysterical.
but when it came time to write about it, i filled myself with doubt. i began to worry about some people who i know read my blog who might be--disappointed, or even disgusted with me for writing about things that take place in the story in question.
i worried about it so much, that i just couldn't write anything at all.
i told the story in question to different people--co-workers and regulars--at my bar. they all thought it was Really Freaking Hysterical.
but when i asked them if they thought it was ok for me to blog about it, i got mixed responses.
there was an interesting thing about these responses, though.
the only people who said that they wouldn't write the story said they wouldn't do it for fear of offending anyone, not because the story is itself completely heinous.
and that's how i came to my decision.
while i do not now, nor have i ever, written this blog with the intent of offending anyone, i don't see how there's any point in writing at all if we scare ourselves into the act of self-censorship.
in other words, when it comes to my blog, it is up to me to tell the story and up to you to decide if you like it or not.
the minute that one attempts to determine taste before the word is written, the word loses its integrity--at least in my mind.
long story short--i'm over it.
tomorrow i'm going to tell you the story.
some of you are going to laugh your asses off.
some of you are going to disappointed and disgusted.*
so, i do apologize in advance to the people who fall into that group.
if you are one of those people, i think you can see--by reading the neurotic mess that is this entry--that i did think of you.
i did worry.
but, in the end, this is what i know:
i'm not good at much, but i'm good at telling stories. usually.
so, that's what i'm going to do.
really, it's what i have to do.
*i would like to note that if you are someone who ever comments on this blog, you are not the person(s) who caused me to think about all this craziness. while i'm sure there are a few of you good commenting-type people who will, in fact, find my story disgusting, it was not you who caused me to be doubt-filled.