Possible Squick Factor

It truly depends on how one feels about reading of someone else's personal matters. Consider yourself forewarned.

After posting my not-so-kick ass review of last night's LOCI, it occurred to me I have been out of sorts lately. Not writing as much as I used to; and when I do it usually struggles to come out and makes little sense, or lacks the spark my writing tends toward. I don't like the feeling that comes with struggling to write. Communicating with others is one of my all-time favorite things to do. And while I had never before thought of myself as a blogger, my separation from those I usually communicate with has found me comfortably using this medium to get my thoughts across to the point of loving it.

Around the fourth of July, though, it all seemed to leave in a rush that has me sort of emotionally gasping and unable to find purchase. I don't even feel the need to email people I used to (Music Wench, I have several choice thoughts on Barbie vs. Bratz. Perhaps one day I'll share them. By then, of course, it'll be a non-issue for you), as evidenced by my very kind friends who send me emails that sound more like personal APBs ("you still alive?") than the chatty missives I'm used to receiving.

Of course this gets into one of the things about electronic communication that drives me nuts: the absolute give and take nature of it. If I don't send out emails regularly, how long will my friends go before ceasing all attempts? Does that sound pathetic? I don't know that I care. Mostly because most of you would still send me email even if you hadn't heard from me in 2 weeks (as I've recently found out - and thank you!).

But I have been blue lately and I feel I need to figure out why before I can move on. I have this strange disconnect happening between myself and the rest of the world and I can't seem to shake out of it. I know it will pass, but part of the beautiful complexity that is me insists on believing that if I'm not entertaining people constantly, then they will seek others for friendship. So panic sets in because you are all so very important to me. I get that from my father, by the way, the need to entertain, which is why I'm not as annoyed at him as my mother becomes when he does it.

I'm also someone who feels and inordinate amount of responsibility for everything. If something goes wrong - no matter who is actually at fault - if I can find one thing I should have done that may have prevented it, then I will blame myself. There's a certain amount of arrogance to that assumption as well, don't get me wrong, but the weight of the world is exhausting and I would like to just put it down for a bit.

So around the fourth several things happened: my training class - which I loved - ended, my dearest cousin - who had been visiting for 2 weeks - left, my visit home went exceptionally well, and my work situation reached the pinnacle of suck. Cue in music for downward spiral. If I could grow a beard, it would rival Bobby's. And now I feel I have no entertainment for anyone, my thoughts are as mundane as can be, and who gives a fuck anyway?

And I really really want to write that piece about how The Dark Knight was such a strangely hopeful film I couldn't get it out of my head the whole day. But that is a movie that deserves all my mental faculties to talk about, and right now I ain't got it.

Sorry, folks. The show will reopen when the scripts are tightened.