Pet Peeve

I woke up yesterday morning feeling as though I had spent the night dancing with a Mack truck with 2 left feet. I sat my puffy faced self down with a cup of coffee and a smoke to check my mail and trance away an hour or so playing Bejeweled or some other random monotonous game that would occupy more then one lobe of my brain at a time. Next I know, I am textually vomiting the inner reaches of my life that I have shared with no one. It wasn't premeditated. I didn't ponder the idea for weeks. I didn't plot some fancy layout to fit my fake persona. I just closed my eyes and let it rip.

This morning as I sit here with my coffee and my smoke, I didn't go check my e-mail and I didn't even go read what my friends are doing in their lives on Facebook. Here I sit, ready to vomit some more. I slept last night. I went to bed at 10:30 on Friday night. And when I woke up at 6:30 this morning, I had not moved an inch. I didn't dream. I didn't lay awake staring thru the darkness at the ceiling. I didn't hear Brian come to bed or the dog pacing the hallway in the night. I didn't hear Dakota wake up, make coffee and don his Xbox headset to join his friends for a virtual killing spree. I just slept.

I dont' do that very often. Not often enough.

I know this person and in an attempt to protect the innocent lets call them "TMI Tattler". TMI is involved in all the social networks. Well at the least the few I am aware of. TMI lives in a sea of drama. I am sure that to TMI, the drama is all consuming and the most important thing ever! TMI freely shares way Too Much Info on a daily basis. I know things about TMI that his/her Momma shouldn't know. And I learned all this stuff not because he/she sat with me and told me. Nope, I know it all because we are free to update our own Facebook statuses 5000 times a day if we so choose. With whatever truth, half truth or lie we wish. I fear I have become my own pet peeve.

I believe there is some twisted therapeutic benefit to textual purging. Maybe it is just the act of getting things unenslaved from the confines of my brain. Maybe it is because if I was going to confide all this in someone, that is on the premise that I would ever even humor that idea, I would end up backing out 2 minutes into it because once I started spewing it would dawn on me that this person has WAY better things to do then sit here and listen to me babble on about shit I can't even explain. When I type all this, it is free information. Maybe someone has read it, maybe they haven't. Maybe I type it out to avoid the humiliation I feel when I speak the words aloud. Maybe it is easier to find the right words in text then in voice. Maybe someone like me Stumbleupon my ramblings and says OMG she is just like me. Maybe I use it to come back to as I work through this whole process on my own. Maybe even someday I will look back and be able to say, Damn was I messed up back then. And maybe, just maybe someday when I look back on this I will be able to understand with clarity that all of this was the road we had to hoe to get us to a happily ever after.

A girl can dream, right?