Gettin' dollaz is hard to do.

So, I couldn't really lay off of the fact that I have a blog again. Aside from being neurotic all day, it was like "woah, what am I, 15 again?" But, it feels different than it did before. Like, something that I needed to do quite some time ago.

I used to write little notes to myself on my computer. Little vauge ramblings with lyrics as titles that summed up the feel of the document. And it was satisfying...to a point. It was like venting to someone that was listening, and listening intently, but all you got in return was "mhm." and "oh. yeah. wow." and "Yeah? Then what?" It was only partially satisfying, partially fulfilling.

There's something about the interbutt that kind of takes that away. Something that says "Oh yeah? Wow. So, when that happened did you punch him in the face? Cos I will if you didn't." Something that responds, a certain kind of life that accompanies it. Regardless of the fact that people may or may not find it.

If I'm being real with myself, I only want one person to find it. She will. Because she's smart. And, by the time she reads this post, how ever old it may be when she finally sees it, she'll grin. Because she knows exactly who she is.

No, if I wanted more people to find it, I would have made a Tumblr. That's what all the cool kids are using these days, right? I'm not that cool. Rather, I'm far too private of a person to want everyone to find me.

By morning, I will have linked this account to Facebook and Twitter and everything else I've ever been on because I love attention more than I like to believe.

I hate myself for it.

I'm a born American from a small city. The quiet kid in the back of the class. When I get attention I roll in it like my dog does a clean towel. Otherwise, I just ride the wave because I can't possibly catch attention that I don't need. I'm far too self-hating to chase attention.

I feel like this is more bloggy than I wanted for my first official blog back. Better make it a good one, though.

I lost my train of thought. I get on a roll when I just let myself type, because then everything just comes out. That's how I speak best too. I just...let go. Detach from reality and let my body and my mind and whatever else control what I'm saying, what I'm doing, what I'm thinking.

I'm sitting here in my too quiet living room, watching my totally exhasuted girlfriend sleep on the couch next to what is, undeniably, her dog. I'm thinking that if I would have started this, say, 7 months ago, I would have linked to it all over Facebook, all over Twitter. I would have blogged about this gorgeous green-eyed girl in my classes and how I just wanted to talk to her. Anything to get her attention. I feel, though, that things wouldn't have worked out the same way as they did. She would have been scared off. No person wants to hear about some phsycotic stalker that watches them from all angles. (note: I can't spell words with the "phsy" prefix. Ever. Don't expect me to.)

I like thinking about the past. How it would have turned out differently with the drop of a hat. It's weird. Just think about it, take any substantial event in your life and backtrack to...well, to the event that, if it would have changed, life would have been different. I'll give you a minute to chew on that.

Yeah, weird right? I can trace everything that's happened in my life back to one huge thing that happened when I was 12. It's weird. Because if it wouldn't have happened, if it would have changed at all, I wouldn't be here today in this run down apartment, with an old friend and the lady I love the most.

Anyway. I think that is bloggy enough. Besides the fact that I keep getting distracted. (I hate closing statements. I always fail at them.)