One of the things I really find difficult about writing here is deciding what to write about. How much of yourself should you let out here. I’ve been pretty forthright but I still hold a lot back. I think to myself, no one wants to hear about that part or no one wants to hear about that at all. It’s also difficult to admit just how many problems I have sometimes so I don’t necessarily do a complete tell all.
Living alone and being broke make for a boring life most of the time. I opted for this, the being alone part, but it tends to make things difficult when you want something to write about. I have tons of stories from the past but who wants to dredge up the past all the time. I moved to another state to escape a lot of the past in the first place.
I’m a very emotional person. I’ve had a rough life. Some of it I had no control over, and some of it I brought on myself. There have been times that I’ve had a difficult time writing posts because I was crying so hard while I wrote them that I could barely see through the tears. Those emotions are a lot of what drive me to want to write, but who wants to read a bunch of sappy posts all the time.
I’m also quite funny to those who know me out here in the real world. I have a quick wit and a very dry sense of humor. I’m well liked, but I am known to be brutally honest. I’ve been called that. It takes too much effort to lie. You have to remember all those lies you tell and it’s easy to screw up. I’d rather be called brutally honest any day than to be called a liar. Besides, my mother always said she could look at my eyes and tell when I was telling a lie so I just always figured everyone else could too. I did figure out later in life that most people don’t pay enough attention to anything any more to notice that eye thing, but by the time I figured that out I was already in the habit of being brutally honest.
I’m a dreamer. I’m also OCD and ADD and all those D things that make most people think I’m a bit of a loon. Dysfunctional is definitely a good description of me if you were to compare me to most people. I’m old enough to not really care that much about what people think any more and in a position, being alone out here in the wilderness, to not have to worry about it. I set that up intentionally. I got tired of being judged all the time when every one that was judging me seemed to me to be in a lot worse shape than I was.
My kids are grown and both have severe drug problems and they are in their thirties now. Ridiculous for sure and I could definitely write daily on a blog about drug problems, but I don’t really want to write about all of that all the time. Again, I moved to get away from all of that.
I have an imagination, like I said, I’m a dreamer. But making up stories that are worth reading would take a whole lot of time. I check out the people I know on Facebook and they are posting ten and twenty times a day with things like what they had for breakfast and that they are on their way to the park with the kids. Tiny snippets of their lives all day every day. I have no interest in it so I have to wonder why anyone else would. Milestones, I can see posting about milestones in your life but not “Oh, I went to work this morning.” “I had cereal for breakfast.” For the love of God.
Yes, I know, I’m on a two day long rant now about this. I’m searching. Searching the files stacked high in my head. There is worthwhile stuff in there I know. I just need it to be meaningful somehow. Something worth actually taking the time to write or read. Time is precious and I don’t want to waste the precious time of people I call friends.
I’ll figure it out. I’m on a mission to do just that.