yeah yeah yeah so I keep thinking about what to write, not just here but in general, and I guess I have stories to work on (perhaps too many, perhaps that's why I can't get started on any of them, or actually I'm started, but I can't get further on any of them) and I'm just about ready to sigh and roll my eyes and smack each of my cheeks I'm so fed up with myself and the state of my brain, but honestly, when you have the most boring life in the world (perhaps I just wasn't cut out for this bucolic deal), there's really not much to get the right kind of energy going. I mean, there's quite a bit out there intellectually that I'd likely be fascinated and intrigued by, but I can't seem to get up the energy to start following them, and I'm absolutely tired of exercising, going to the same dog park, and not seeing anybody outside my family and students except for one day a week, usually Saturday, well... actually that's not accurate. I see many, many people but I don't really have intricate conversations with any of them. I miss sitting down to coffee with people, and I miss doing art with people, and I miss hearing about art with people, and so forth. And now that I'm on the topic, and rest assured that I'm not on the topic, I'm in a basic quandary about the nature and appeal of blogs. Most blogs I imagine could be considered healthy - or at least many of them - and in particular those that appear to be 'healthy' are those ones that also have a topic. Like c2's blog, about meals and town-ramblings with quite a few pictures highlighting the specific appeal of such. My blog, on the other hand, seems to me to be just what a blog shouldn't be, which is random, scattered, about a number of things, and quite frequently dangerously personal. There's a bit of putting myself out on the line, a putting out there that I seem to scale back on every year as I realize that there are people out there, not very many people mind you, for whom this is the only 'interaction', as it were, they have with my life, and what they read here is the only part of me they let inside their mind, and so they on some level might know me quite intimately, but on quite a few other levels don't know me at all, but this is okay with me for strangers but when it makes friends into strangers as we try to reconcile the one with they other, I get nervous as this allows for a very strange dynamic that has started making me feel more and more exposed as I sense that some of the information I put out there could be used to manipulate, and not just manipulate me, but it could be for me to manipulate others, or others to manipulate others, and this is because for the most part I don't write too much fiction here. I try to be ethical and not talk about fights, romantic relationships, or other people's passions, but I reckon everyone could read this or that into my words. Take for instance the number of blogs I've 'banned' myself from reading over the years because I feel like either a) some message is being transmitted specifically to me, or about me, but subtly and hidden so that nothing can be discussed or addressed without the other person having recourse to saying b) I'm off my rocker and "reading into things." That's the problem, yes. Sometimes I "read into things," and sometimes I'm damn sure that I was meant to (poisoning), and other times I can't help wondering if I'm off my rocker, and so I 'ban' myself from reading and then in a few week's time, ignore my own ban. But for those of you out there who might have made it this far into the paragraph; this place isn't an adequate safety zone. I don't know how to say it, but to be honest, I just think blogs are trolls for attention, mine included, and it makes me increasingly uncomfortable to admit it, and increasingly uncomfortable that most of the attention it appears to get me is unacknowledged or unspoken, and the deal is that I wouldn't write this blog anymore were it not for two reasons. One, there are a couple of close friends/family out there who don't see me very often in the actual world, and this appears to be a jumpstart for conversation that occurs elsewhere. Two, if I take digital pictures, where are they supposed to go? So, I keep on going, but then ban myself from writing too much when I think that yet another one of my "friendships" is sinking into fiction via regular fantastical internet meetings. I think I hate the internet right now. My way of being on it is at least partially responsible for me having the most boring life in the world. The other part is I look around Bville, and look and look, and then I look further away, and try to imagine being out there, and I can't figure out what I want other than to live closer to real people. To have more people like NM, who refuses to read my blog (as I've always told her: thank god) and instead talks to me on the phone, in my life. And it's now noon, and I told myself I only had fifteen minutes for a mini-rant, and so this is the end.