Writing

I want to write, I know I need to write and that writing somehow improves my state of being. There's a kind of zen-like quality when I write, as if I manage to separate myself from the issues I'm writing. So I need to do it, if only for myself.

But there's this weird thing that's begun happening to me. Kim the library expounded on my blogging issues in a previous post saying "you get yourself into situations just to blog about them." Of course the infamous R-dogg didn't help when he suggested I go on a date merely to blog about it. That's just weird.

Yes, I've been going out more and becoming more social, dating more and creeping out of my shell. Isn't the internet supposed to have the opposite effect? Aren't I supposed to be blogging in my pajamas right now in my parent's basement?

It'd be hard to blog from my parent's basement since they don't have a basement and they live 1300 miles away. But thanks to the blog, I have acquired surrogate parents. Check out this argument mom and dad had over my recent dating. My mother doesn't even involve herself as much as Holly does. By the way Holly and Bill, your advice is always welcome. I like reading your comments and thinking about them.

Other rants, perhaps unrelated to my life, are forthcoming. For now, I feel kind of better having blogged. The Lady, if you've found this-sorry. I'm totally crazy about you, but not in the crazy way. Did that just make sense?