Saturday, July 28, 2012

Dirty fan...

When I was awoken at 5 am this morning I craned my neck instinctively to listen to the monitor and see if Simon was getting an early start.  He wasn't.  The fan was just imitating sounds of a person slurping the last of the coke from ice in the bottom of a Wackdonald's cup....

Ok seriously, I can't imagine that it was as loud as I imagined it to be... But it kept me awake until past 7 am.

During that time I started wondering why I've become so enamored with blogging.  I began to rule out one possibility at a time...
  • I'm not so narcissistic I think every word I utter is golden prophecy.  In fact I deliberate painstakingly over each and every word I write to make sure I fool people into thinking I'm not a total idiot.  (you should know it took me an hour and a half to make sure that last sentence was prefect.)
  • I don't really care much for trends or trendy stuff.  In fact I've only recently honed my fragile gag reflex so that I don't accidentally launch tacos at the people who say, "YOLO!"  or "Kardashian"...  Now if people say those 'words' in my presence, projectile vomit is very much deliberate. 
  • I don't generally care what people think about me.  In the really real world, I'm usually so lost in my own brain maelstrom that I'd prefer people not to notice me at all.  So if you see me walking down a sidewalk talking to myself like a loon, it's not because I'm crazy... It's because I want you to think I'm crazy so you won't talk to me.  Wait a second... does that make me crazy?
    I don't dislike you... I'm just awkward sometimes.  And trying to concentrate.  I really do love you.  I just express it better in here than out there. 
So after using this process, I finally understand why I am growing more and more addicted to blogging.
That you are reading this right now and may or may not (but probably won't) post a comment is why I love it.  I want nothing more than to make your life less boring; albeit for only 1 or 5 or 20,000,000 seconds.
It's why I'm drawn to create... Be it music or stories... And I can't escape my responsibility of at least TRYING to infuse something of value here and there.

If I didn't write passionately, you would know.  You would say, 'David's being fake.  That sucks.  What a coward.  Let's go read something real...  with kahunas.'