Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Dear Diary

As I read other blogs it becomes apparent to me that being somewhat undefined in my purpose for writing is perfectly acceptable. I had a blog earlier this year, but it turned into a log of bipolar waves and random insanity (so maybe the spans of sanity were random). Once again, I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep from spewing my inner-most ramblings. Okay, it's one thing to read the humor of some one's kid puking on their mother-in-law or their quirky boss' obsession with making shadow figures on the copy machine, but it is creepy to look back on an entry discussing the need for self-destruction. I became so disgusted with myself that I had to delete the damn thing. However, as the blog posting month begins I am finding that the visceral words of living spew until they're trapped with the backspace button. Fussy mentioned that a few people have already dropped out of NaBloPoMo. I missed a day last week but I decided not to explain my absence and simply continue on with my goal. However, my disassociation from my topics has produced a bland and unsatisfying week of writing.
So, I am torn. Do I continue the excruciating process of developing daily topics or just let things roll? I don't want this to turn into a personal journal again. What's more, is that I have found that my humor makes some people uncomfortable - things that are funny to me are simply unnerving to some people.
So, things may change or maybe I'll be hit with a surge of creativity ... 23 more days to go.

1 comment:

the occasional cig... said...

being undefined in my writing (and let's be honest, my fucking life) is something i struggle with constantly but we cannot help the way that we are. dude, you are bipolar and insane and most importantly, honest about it, and that's why i can't help but love you. i think of a blog as a place to voice things about myself i certainly don't feel comfortable, for whatever reason, sharing with family and most friends. it feels better when that journal is on the internet and not just confined to an expensive, leather-bound, barnes and noble journal, because i am talking myself through issues and occasionally others are commenting. i say just let things roll, something i wish i had the ability to do. and fuck your humor making people uncomfortable. who gives a shit...unless it's your mom, which i think is highly impossible considering i think you get your awesomely fucked-up sense of humor from her. anyway, keep on truckin'. you rock my face off...

p.s. holy shit, is missouri blue now?!