Long Story Short ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Worry I am really jealous of bloggers that can write regularly, in some cases everyday, and not delve into the minutiae of relationships/jobs/finances/etc. I do not know how to do that. ALL I would write about, if I felt safe, are the detailiest details of my life. I would share real first and last names, addresses, and thoughts that would hurt people's feelings. I would talk about people behind their backs, knowing they would read it. For some reason I cannot keep me to myself. I want everyone else to have some, so I am not holding it all. Right now I could write about the week of my birthday, which was awesome. Or my trip to Long Island to see my brother and sister-in-law, which was tear-jerkingly fun and memorable. Or the fact that, while there, I saw Sal the Stockbroker (of the Howard Stern show) and his wife and kids and freaked out but respected his privacy and didn't run after him or take his picture, even though at times he was only one foot from me. Not going to happen, I don't think. The more I have to write about the less I write. Things are good. I am back on my diet, after nearly two weeks of total and utter debauchery. I am back on the wagon, after two weeks of pickling my liver. Financially I am good, work is fine, and Bailey is fucking adorable and hammish. But I posted an entry just prior to this one, in my private folder, that I titled "Things I Worry About". Because I am worried about a variety of things, as I always am, and my biggest worry is that I will spend the rest of my life worried. And that my worries will only get bigger and more frightening and I will suffocate under all the anxiety.
12:39 p.m. - 2006-06-02 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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