An So Are The Days of Our Lives.....

It's Friday morning...do you know where your parents are? Mine are out some where...The doctors office..don't ask me where I'm going with this.

I've just woken up--and it's doubtful I'll make any sense right now. I'm tired even after sleeping the night through so I'll be doubley mean and crotchedy today. It's gonna be hot out today too and my air is on the fritz. Lovely. An I have to go somewhere. Double lovely.

I talked with J last night -- he seems to be in a pretty down and out, foul mood. You know what? I'm beginning to be a little over it all with him.

You tell me how mad you are about life...how you want to do things, meet new people, go new places, get involved with new things and the only thing you can muster up enough strength to do is to go to the freaking bar. Now come on. The real problem is that you're lonely and you don't care about meeting new friends or finding new and interesting places to go or to get involved with anything---you just want a m a n.

Very sad, very sad indeed. He would deny it all--I know he would. What is really funny is that last night we were discussing this here blog. I was telling him about finding my site listed on someone elses as a blog they read regularly and how cool I thought that was--to see my name out there. He mentioned he'd like to do that, but he just can't. He doesn't feel like he would have anything interesting to say. I told him that first and foremost, I don't write in this blog necessarily for the enjoyment of others..lol... I write in this journal because my big, fat head has a lot of ideas in it and a lot of stuff that I need to get out to sort out. This blog gives me an avenue of sorts to do that, without fear of a friend/family member reading what I had to say by accident or snooping via a paper journal. It's only an added bonus that there are folks who return to read the mush that seems from between my ears.

However, it is a good question as to why people (myself included) read blogs even. I mean, I read blogs because it comforts me to know that there are strange, crazy people out there just like myself with problems and ideas and insecurities and fears just like me. Makes this big blue marble we call earth seem a wee bit smaller--as well as my problems seem smaller too. It's not as if I think I have something important to say, no more important than anyone else. I just have something to say. An that is the key.

Of course, he again shot me down--he can't blog, he can't write interesting enough. Oy, some poeple.