Happy-Go-Hour

I have been using various blog sites since 2003. This is just another reincarnation of the self - a different facet into a fractured psyche. One that might be a little more dry and sarcastic, instead of woe-is-me. However, if the woe comes in herds and droves, I hope whoever stumbles onto this corner will forgive me.

In my other blog, which I still maintain out of a perverse sense of self-torture there is something called "friends lists." Basically that is a misnomer as anyone on that site realizes over time. It should instead be called "people who are as curious about you as they are about a train wreck."

Eventually, what usually comes to pass is that people grow tired of hearing about my woe, or my dog, or my dreams, or my thoughts and "un-friend" me.

What a word.

At any rate, while some of the un-friending still stings based on the person, for the most part I could care less. I'm still not even sure why people even decided I was worth reading since I am pretty much the broken record of woe, peppered with paranoid fears based on a history of abuse.

Should I be flattered that so many people have been interested in the train wreck of my life? I don't know, doesn't that seem a bit sadistic? Is it another tale of "oh god her life is so much worse than mine!" so they read to feel better about themselves?

I admit I'm a bit cynical about the whole thing.

But just a bit, because one can't be negative in this world! No Siree Bob! No negativity here! I don't want the negativity police after me to rap me on the knuckles with a piece of chalk. (But if they do hunt me down, i hope the chalk is green and blue combined.)

Also, here's a thought... when does one stop being your friend? Or how about your best friend? This is something that has been troubling me for the last few months.

The woman I called my best friend in the town I reside in, has stopped talking to me about 3 months ago. The reasons I am sure could be endless, but I suppose the most simple reason is we're in two different modes of life now. She is a graduate student, with a boyfriend, and different interests. I am not even a college graduate, with no boyfriend, and I like to play World of Warcraft, spend time with my family, read an endless parade of books, and travel.

I feel like I'm in an endless repeat of my life by the way. How many times has this happened now? Not just with her, but with so many others? I think I've lost count.

I think I've also lost the ability to care, beyond the slightest twinge of "ow. that hurts."

Yeah. Ow that hurts.

Ow.



Well, lift a glass boys and girls to future friendships, to present friendships and to past friendships in all their fancies and forms. To friending, and unfriending. To memories.

Good night.