I have spent part of this evening surfing random blogs, peeking in to people's odd little lives, and being struck by the utter banality of craziness.
It's so tiring.
And I think that is why I am so reticent to become a daily blogger.
I don't want to bore myself nor anyone else.
Nor do I want to write endlessly about how I should write more, or write better, or any of the myriad of "should'ves" and self-flagellation that seem to litter the landscape of the blogosphere.
Enough of the should'ves. Do it or don't, but stop incessantly whining about it either way.
Everyone is crazy, everyone is bored, everyone is unique, just like everybody else.
SHUT UP ALREADY.
I am not in the camp of thought that somehow the world is sliding down the slippery slope, that everything was somehow better in the past, because one would have to be completely blind to the rise and fall of mighty civilizations, far better and worse than our own, to not know that cycles and waves are at the core of all humanity, of the universe.
And yet, the rise of this nauseating, boring self absorption, or perhaps the ability for people to share this self absorption so easily, is what grates on my last nerve this evening.
So instead here I am complaining about people complaining, silly girl.
In short, I'm healthy, getting healthier, with my sights set on rocking a hot bathing suit poolside at the resort in Phoenix this April. I have dear, intimate friends with whom I can commune both close and far. I live in a place that brings me endless joy. I read, I write (not publicly, as you can tell), I exult in music daily. And best of all, I am madly in love with my family, who loves me, in return, unconditionally. I am blessed.
And none of that bores me in the least.
