Vanilla

during my junior year in high school my journal was stolen by some boys from the next city over. it was passed around their high school and eventually returned to me. i didn't notice it had been taken until i got it back; according to my calculations they had it for two solid weeks. two weeks taking turns reading about my life from 6th grade to 11th. and since i hung out with them so much, there were very specific details about some of them. and even more details about my friends and family. all high school girls write about drama, boys, suicide, making out to Journey, annoying friends, and insecurities ... right? all of them? their deepest darkest innermost secrets ...

it made me embarrassed. it made me kinda sick. i thought they were horrible to take such a personal thing from a "friend". but i didn't make a big deal out of it and it didn't really change the course of my life. looking back, i am actually surprised how little i cared.

so maybe that explains why i don't feel too exposed writing about myself in a blog. what could be worse? if my fragile, insecure teen self can handle it, and people want to read it ... it's not like i'm going to be running for president any time soon. plus all the juicy stuff is hidden in obscure blogs behind a pen name.

jk. lol. hi. hop in.

when i stop writing, i stop processing. the words just rattle around in my head. writing is therapy for me and if no one ever read or commented on this blog, i'd continue to do it. it's my journal. and millions of others'. recently i have been struggling to write simple copy at work; even one sentence to let customers know a product is out of stock has become a tedious, ten minute process. we're sorry, we regret to inform, due to the high demand, due to the great success, important product update ... every word is over analyzed and it is forced and dry. there is no flow to it. and now the same can be said for my personal ramblings. when you stop doing something, it eventually falls further out of reach.

however if all those thoughts, epiphanies, lessons, and ideas are forced to cycle through my brain without being compartmentalized and jotted down, they get stuck, grow stale, and begin attaching themselves to the inside of my skull. and then i just disconnect.

the same thing happens when we have a catastrophe in our lives, when someone we love passes away, or our hearts are broken. in a few months time, it doesn't seem like it's that bad (it can't get any worse); it doesn't hurt as much (it just hurts); we don't miss them every second (maybe it's every five).  and then after a few more months, the details get cloudy and time becomes a big garbage disposal. instead of piecing it back together or untangling the rat's nest, there are those times in life to just start over.

what i'm trying to say is i am not going to be too hard on myself because i can't piece together any meaningful posts. i have to clean out the cobwebs to get to the good stuff.

oh yeah, i picked up hitchhikers for the first time in my life last week. it wasn't too bad.