I spend too much time in my own head SURPRISE SURPRISE. I am worried I have become more shallow than I realize. What can "cure" this? A month alone in the woods? A severed limb? Drugs? Should I even be concerned with finding a cure? How many times in my blog posts have I typed the all-important word "I"? I suppose this is a personal blog, so I'm bound to, you know, talk about me from time to time.
Still. Still I feel like an idiot. Maybe the preoccupation with worrying about being too self-absorbed is in its own strange way another form of narcissism. Who cares if I fix my hair and put on makeup occasionally? Who cares if I like to, according to my definition, look cool? CLICHE ALERT: My life is my art. If I am criticized for how I look and behave, then so be it. Art should be criticized.
Okay, but STILL. Still I want to be more giving and able to detach from my cuckoo ego when needs be. This is possible, I promise. I've experienced it before. The first rule of caring is not to care. The second rule of caring is: You do not talk about Fight Club. The third rule of caring is to... cuddle? Are we all going to cuddle now? I think at this point in my life I'd finally be okay with that. Cuddle me!!!
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