You're Not Going to Blog About This, Are You?

"You're Not Going to Blog About This, Are You?"

Someone  just asked me that about something.

Could I BE any more vague?

Nope.  But I can't be any less vague, either.

  Because I AM NOT GOING TO BLOG ABOUT THIS!


"You aren't going to blog about this are you?" Was asked in a fearful/annoyed/exasperated tone.

My response, a bit huffy and indignant, natch, was to insist that I do not blog about every single thing that I see or hear or do.  I don't, really.

And someone said,

"Yes you will, you won't be able to help yourself"

Chuh!

So, it's like that, is it?  IN-tereresting...

I realize that I have blogged about love, loss, abuse, drinking (barf.  just writing that kills me. completely hung over today.  alcohol is the elixir of Satan.  seriously.), drugs, and sex, but there is tons of stuff I don't blog about because a) some stories are not mine to tell, and b) I try to keep my feelings and emotions shoved in a little trunk at the back of my soul so no one can get to me.

Children who are raised in abusive situations have very diverse ways of coping and mine is to never let anyone get to me.  I'm not bragging or proud of it, it has cost me a lot in life.  I just have this natural tendency to fling everything in that trunk, slam that bitch shut, shove it in the corner, and drape a few things over it.....If I don't see it, I can almost pretend it isn't there. 

That's part of the reason I bailed on the #500wordsaday writing experiment.  I had a day chock-full of things that were too big to stuff in there, and I couldn't be selfish enough to walk around pretending I couldn't see them.  I had to deal with them then and there.

Because life, you know?

So, I have had a rough couple of weeks in some not-fun areas of life, but I think I am getting a handle on it, and have sufficiently shrunk them down to trunk size. 

Which means, of course, that I will not be blogging about any of it, and had no inclination to blog the whole time.  (My journal, on the other hand, saw plenty of action)


My super-duper-most-all-time-favorite blog is The Klonopin Chronicles.  'Klonnie', as she is fondly referred to by her legion of adoring Nutjobs, posts about the most real, raw, heartbreaking things.  (Also, she is more funnier [yes-I know, but it's my blog an I can eff with the English language as much as I want ] than you, any of your friends, or anyone else you have ever heard of.) 

 For real.  Click that link up there ^^ and see for yourself. 

Bring a tissue, though. 

And maybe continence pants.

Anyway, I am always in awe of how she can put herself out there like that.  So real, so raw.  Poetic as hell, also. 

I can't do that.  I get to a certain point and then I make myself stop.  Right there, in my tracks.  Off to the trunk with me, and then my post ends up being about giant penises or drinking or strippers, and I don't really get how I got there.

I got a mean PM one time from someone that read my blog that, among other not-so-nice critiques, said I would be a lot more believable if I quit trying to be funny and got 'real'.

Ouch.

Yeah, that smarted a bit, but I also got annoyed.  Believable?  'Scuse me?  I have only written one post that was not based in reality. 

Also, I am funny as hell, dammit!!!

I am not going to get 'real' on this blog, anymore than I already have, because this is about as real as I feel like getting.  And I appreciate those of you that read and comment and message me about it...except for you, Judgy Non-Believing Messager.  You can get nail fungus for all I care.  Then your nails will fall off, and you won't be able to write narky messages to people you don't know.  Unless you have that voice-to-text business, in which case I hope you get laryngitis.  And maybe gingivitis, too.  Just because.

Some things I can't/won't blog about, and I am totally okay with that.

And, by the way, Nip, I didn't blog about "it", see? 

So there.

Also, people, don't drink.  Ever.  Dying here......Dy. Ing.