The faceless blog.
The avenging blog.
The Blog-a-log Blog
The Blog of a Mild-Mannered Misunderstood Hobbit
Except for the not being a hobbitt thing.
None of them are working.
It's been a month! Where have I been?
Reading other blogs.
I'm trying to figure out what sort of luck it is that lets some bloggers get gazillions of readers. I think it might be focus, but also sarcasm and humor. Except for the mindfulness blogs. And I'm totally trying to be mindful. I think I'm on course to read everything Thich Nhat Hanh has written.
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| Fat Bunny judges. His blog would be Fat Cat Sat Sadly but really I think he's just saying 'pet me, aren't I cute? ,Just pet me' |
Happiness is simplicity.
That is why I'll never be a social media maven. There is nothing simple about social media. It's all a level of superficial noise. It's storms skimming an ocean's surface, making boats rock and swimmers get carried away, but if you go under the water, it's all calm. Unless you don't have any oxygen. But then you would drown, and that would be relaxing. Well, after the oxygen deprivation takes place. Stay away from social media, because you'll drown. That's all you really need to know.
I have no name for this blog still, so it's still me in La La Land.
Although, I do kind of feel I'm in La La Land. I mean, not an actual lot has happened in my life, but an awful lot has happened in my head. It's been a busy place. I got most of the dusty areas out, and now apparently I'm dusting out the attic cobwebs. Didn't even know there was an attic.
Introverts heads are like cozy attics
I'm so much back in my head that I forgot, I kinda like it in there. I'm an introvert, except when I'm near my friends, then I won't shut up. But I mean, like, just my friends. And the past few years, I've been an extrovert. Which turns out, is not when I'm at my happiest. I talked way more than I wanted to toooo many people that I didn't want to really talk to. People don't believe I'm an introvert. Which is weird. And I don't think attics are cozy. I think maybe my introvert head is more like a comfortable study or sitting room with a fireplace and dark, chilly nights and whisky, because it's raining a lot outside, so everyone is inside in cozy cardigans sitting in different rooms quietly while the sound of waves pound the rocks in the distance. Yes, my introverted head place is somewhere on the coast of Scotland. And in my head I like whisky. I even spell it like the Scots. I probably only drink Scottish whisky, in my head, too.
So, like, I'm a recovering introvert. An introvert forced into a world of extroverts, being subjected to all sorts of extrovertedness nonsense, and now, after months of introvertedness, I've come back to myself.
There should be a retreat. Like, all introverts who have escaped the maddening extrovert world and have been able to return to their true selves should have a safe haven aside from their little corner on the couch. Maybe individual cabins around a lake. Or a place in the Swiss Alps or in Scotland. Like, an introvert asylum, but not the arcane asylum.
I'm reading a lot
In my introvertedness, I've been thinking, dreaming, trying, creating. It's all very exciting in a very boring introvert way. I mean, I've read many Thich Nhat Hanh books, I mentioned that, so I've got this idea of a calm mind going on. I've read almost as many of his books as murder-mystery books and start-your-own-business books. I think my next book is going to be about a mindful detective who solves the murders of freelancers and poets. Nothing personal with the poets. I enjoy poetry. I've just never been able to stick with it for long. I'm on a temporary reprieve from murder mysteries, but I did go on a sad book fest, and had to stop.
That's what us introverts do. The dreaming, thinking part, not the solving murders part. Definitely the reading part. We ponder, think, create, decide, act, and then after we've done it in our heads, we manifest it in the world. The world needs more of us. It'd be a lot quieter, and maybe saner.
I read the bloggess today. I love the bloggess, for strange reasons. I like her humor. I like that she's found a way to use it to survive. I'm happy she's got an audience and has made a life despite her social anxiety and her other mental-health issues. Sometimes I binge-blog read (there's a disorder) and I get stuck on hers for quite some time. But I can't write like her. I don't have a strange hobby like collecting taxidermied animals or buying random weird things. I'm glad she found her voice, and her people found her.
I want people
I would like people to find me. Well, my people. I mean, this whole tribe thing, right? I'd like to find my tribe. But I wouldn't call it a tribe, because honestly, I keep hearing about tribes and people coming together and finding their tribe and I got excited for a while, because, tribes! We all have a tribe! A tribe for you! A tribe for me! We all have one! But I don't belong to the tribes around me. I'm nomadic! So maybe I'm not tribal. Not a band. Not musical. No, I think... I think I'm looking for my sept. But that's too local. Clan. Ilk. Horde. Probably horde. I need my horde. Nope, ilk. I'm going with ilk.
