People never believe me when i tell them i’m an introvert. How could i be? I’m the friendliest most open person in the world! This might be true, but that side of me is only available when i’m around other people, and those times are often few and far between. I have so much introvertedness in my system, probably from being an only child without any local friends to hang around with. What i wound up with is my own continuity inside of my head that no one else gets to share in. Except you. I suppose at its heart this has been about emptying the contents of my head out so that i know that someone else can hear them and recognizing, even from my first posts. The question is, … is this a healthy exercise, or does it just worsen matters? I suppose that there’s no way to tell, but in general the less i interact with other real people the worse off i am.
self-critique
So, i’m happily consumed with obsessively scouring the four new blogs i’ve found, especially the first and the last ones i mentioned. Also, i’m talking to Spoon about how neither of us can can bridge that friendship to dating gap no matter how hard we try. Which of us is trying harder, the one who asked “What do i have to do to kiss you” or the one who took an impromptu nap on the couch (both to/with the girl(s) we’ve been after). Or, are we both pathetic? Wait… that was rhetorical…
Knowing where the christmas presents were was the most awful responsibility in the world. You had to find a reason within yourself not to open the edge of the wrapping paper to peak at the present. I never really found that reason, and i think my mother didn’t either (which is why i always put her presents out at the last possible hour). Of course, until recent years my mother didn’t get a whole lot from me for christmas, but she she gave me plenty, which made the burden worse for me. Now it’s been reversed a bit, but i think you get my point. I’m awful like that … no one should ever leave me to my own rationalizations in order to stay away from something. Because, it never works. Never.
I am way too non-resistant to change. For example, just now i washed my hands over the bathtub and then brushed my teeth there without even the slightest hesitation. Was i upset that i couldn’t do this over the sink? Nope, not at all. I have a sad sad habit of just working around such small inconveniences, pretending that they don’t matter at all. Of course, in the end i’m just living in a world of crap and looking like an idiot. The best example of this is the D-string tuner on my guitar, which has been broken for well over a year. I had just replaced all the tuners on my guitar when it broke, so i wasn’t in the mood to tear my instrument apart to fix it. Fast forward a year and a half, and now i have to bring a pliers with me to guitar ensemble so that i can tune the D-string of my guitar. It’s pathetic. I think mother and i have agreed that i’m getting a nice acoustic guitar for christmas so that i don’t look like such an idiot. As if that’s gonna help…
I over-narrate. My songs are all stories that i tell again and again. This log is less musings on life than bland daily (and hourly, and momentary) reports on the status of my life. My annalytical term papers are “too narrative – though it makes for a good story.” Hell, even my prose is too – i don’t know – prosey. I am much to fixated on ways to say things and not nearly interested enough in the ways that allow me to expand upon the story being told. It’s the same as my album reviews saying everything about a song except for a single thing about its sound. I’m not sure what i’m supposed to do about it, but there it is, laid out as plainly as i can understand it. Or: is that the problem….