weight: 140
bodyfat: 21
gym: 35" cybex. all five legs. mistake. now my hip hurts again. (yesterday: arms, abs, shoulders, back)
i 'mell like: nivea and fabric softener.
last song on the Rio: "safe" by travis
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some of you might be wondering where all of today's "blog angst" (password protecting the site, "can't please everyone" posts, etc) is coming from. i've obviously had a rough summer, and though i'm aware that the vast majority of you are kind, loyal, good people who genuinely care about me and wish me well, i'm a bit disheartened by two things that marred my day:
1) the comment from anon. yes, yes. i'm used to the negative comments. that's not it. it's the idea that after a YEAR of blogging, baring my emotional innards, being as raw as i could stand...i'm still this misunderstood. i am not some evil, shitty person. i can't fucking believe that it all gets twisted. STILL.
2) there's a picture of my mom with my priest on fotolog. one of you commented that moms looks totally like my little sister, veena. someone anonymous felt the compulsion to add, "your mom looks like my dick", right underneath.
sigh.
attack me if you want to, but my mom? wtf? i resolutely tell myself that this is the price paid for gaining all of my astonishing, extraordinary new friends, that putting one-self out there results in such stupid attacks...but after the summer i've had, i can't help but wonder why.
why?
why do i still do this? why do i still have these sites when i'm unemployed, have drained my savings and can ill-afford to? they most certainly do NOT pay for themselves by inspiring people to click those damned ads; i haven't received a check yet. why spend the money AND the time it takes to keep it all up and current? when i've learned that they can turn my life upside down, destroy what i love, and ruin my day? why do i do this to myself?
i used to think that i did it to help people, because i know i did. i know i helped specific individuals deal with heartbreak or the loss of a parent.
i did it because i love to write, and nothing has ever helped me write more consistently than blogging.
i did it because i met andrea, SAS, livin' simply...people whom i would've never otherwise encountered, people who have made my life so much better to live.
i did it because it was fun.
all of that was enough, for this year.
but i'm moulting, shrugging off 18 months of pain, introspection and ctrl-alt-del'ing my life. i'm questioning everything, including the activity that takes up most of my waking hours. and i don't like the answers.
i used to actually worry that when i had a job (ha!), i wouldn't get to blog as much. oh my, what ever would i do? i was slightly horrified. that's how important blogging had become...
now part of me relishes the thought of a day so filled that i don't go near a computer. a day that exhausts me and doesn't allow me any typepad. a day with no blogging. how did this happen? is it possible that i've finally hit the wall with regards to negativity? i already regret most of this, i regret ever being THIS open, i regret being so "exuberant", online, as one of you lovingly put it.
regret should never be associated with your greatest passion or hobby.
ever.
.
.
.
i didn't write this to fish for comments that reassure me. i wrote it b/c this is my diary, and this is what you actually write, in your diary.
thank you for hearing me.
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