I think about death often.
I lie awake at night thinking what it would be like once I’m gone. I have no illusions about it: the World managed to do fine for millions (billions?) of years before I got here, I’m sure it’ll be fine once I’m no more. It’s hard to imagine the nothingness that will come after. I almost can feel it – that great big emptiness, that feeling of vertigo I get when I stand too close to the edge of a cliff, that floating feeling…
Then I think about my LovelyWife and my kids, how they are going to do once I’m gone. A few years ago, it would make me freak out and have a panic attack. So I worked on that. I work hard so they are well equipped to deal with the inevitable. It’s an ongoing project, but I’m almost done.
Don’t worry, I’m not ready to die.
Well. I mean I don’t want to die, but I know it’s going to happen and that there’s nothing I can do about it. I can only do so much to plan for it and prepare others for it. In that very specific sense, I think I’m ready.
Where am I going with this? Am I creeping you out?
I don’t know. My thoughts are all over the place right now, I haven’t blogged in ages, I miss all of you people and wish I could get back into it. I miss the interactions we had.
I post stuff on Facebook and spend hours thinking about the replies I get, especially when they are “challenging”.
Why are you so negative? I was para-asked recently when I commented that we were doomed as a species after watching two people try to parallel park in my street. That made me sit down and think about myself. Why am I so negative? Am I really so negative? Of course if I was constantly spewing negative stuff on Facebook I’d need to stop that. But then would I call other people on their negative stuff of would that be negative in itself? Does it matter if what I thought was a brilliant social commentary on driving techniques was perceived as something negative? Why do I even bother with this shit?
I recently was yelled at (figuratively) because I tried helping someone who was posting chain letters and urban legends over and over on their timeline. I was honestly trying to help. Again, why bother? I unfriended that person and I even blogged about it. Look at me linking to my own content like a Pro Blogger.
Then I got some flak for having unfriended that person from a friend. So that caused another round of introspective shit.
I tweet insane things on Twitter (and sometimes on Facebook, but I won’t apologize for using hashtags on there) and some people think I’m really mean. Others think I’m fairly smart. All of that from a profile that says: “I always was the class clown – I just found a bigger class”.
I blog less because I feel blogging is somewhat more serious than Tweeting and Facebooking, and by that I mean if I Tweet “What the fuck am I doing? #Sigh” I can then move on and do something else. If I blog “What the fuck am I doing? #Sigh” it sounds like I’m really in trouble. I know, that doesn’t make sense.
My point is there is more and more stuff that I don’t say on Facebook and Twitter. But the stuff I keep for myself on these platforms is nothing compared to all the stuff I don’t say here.
I don’t blog much about work anymore. For one, it won’t change anything and it’ll probably end up getting me fired. Work is not perfect, but it’s also not that bad. Unfortunately I end up blogging about the bad stuff more often than the good stuff, so it sounds like I’m miserable at my work. I am not. But if I was to publish every single thing I thought about publishing that was about work, you’d think I was working in the worst job ever. Which I am not.
I don’t blog much about my family life anymore. Again, what I think is funny may sound like my family are assholes, which they are not. I have the best family anybody can ever dream, even if they are not perfect. I would not change them for the World. At the same time, blogging about what I had for lunch is not really doing it for me. Much funnier to blog about how LovelyWife puts things in the fridge to drive me nuts, much more therapeutic to talk about how I’m sick of getting anonymous phone calls from CutieDaughter’s “friends”, much more liberating to vent about the kid who bullied AudaciousSon.
I don’t blog about the fallout I had with people who used to be dear friends of mine. It would just sound like I’m bitching anyways.
Again, some of you may think: “Why so negative?”. As a result, I don’t Tweet this, I don’t Facebook that, I don’t blog a lot of things.
Alas. Like my own mortality, I see my blog mortality way too clearly. I lie awake at night thinking what it would be like once this blog is gone. I have no illusions about it: the Blogosphere managed to do fine for many years before I got here, I’m sure it’ll be fine once I’m no more. It’s hard to imagine the nothingness that will come after. I almost can feel it – that great big emptiness, that feeling of vertigo I get when I stand too close to the edge of a cliff, that floating feeling…
I don’t want this blog to die just yet, but I know it’s going to happen and that there’s nothing I can do about it. I can only do so much to plan for it and prepare others for it. In that very specific sense, I think I’m ready.