Well, I'm not on Adderall, so don't expect this post to be long or well-written. As sad as it is, I feel like Adderall makes me a better writer. But at times it also makes me a frantic writer. You know, just writing all sorts of drawn out weird "SHIT" that ends up making no sense. But nothing really makes sense these days/this week, and, well, that's life/this week, kiddo.
What a stupid paragraph. It sure SOUNDS like I'm on Adderall. But I assure you I am not.
I want to say a few things.
I don't know what it is about the public forum. Why am I writing somewhere where anybody in the world can read my thoughts? Why not just write in a private diary with a lock on it and the key hidden under my teddy bear? Because I don't have a teddy bear. And because perhaps I want the "secret" pleasure in knowing that my current struggles and internal dialogues with myself will be read by certain people. I imagine them getting onto the Internet. I imagine them clicking on the link to my blog. I imagine them reading my words and thinking of me. Hmmm. I wonder how obvious this "them" is. It's one person, okay? One person.
Man. I shouldn't write this post. I should delete it. But I like the honesty and vulnerability. Can I admit that? Does admitting that make it less honest? No, I don't think so. I think it just means I am self-aware. Wow, that last sentence sounded so... douchey. Does it sound douchey? Good Lord/BUDDHA, I question myself a lot. I guess I'm really not that self-aware.
I'm rambling. Because I forgot what it was I even wanted to say.
I think I just wanted to say that Greg Wilcox is on the cover of City Weekly and that Pearl Jam is coming in concert. There. Now "them" knows.
And by the way, I DO have a teddy bear. I have a couple, actually. And one that is big and white and wearing a green bow. But it doesn't really matter because I never close the lock. They key was lost long ago.