I have a dilemma going on in my life and the problem is that lately I haven’t found anything inspiring to write about. Scratch that. I have plenty to write about, but I feel like I need to be a little more cautious and use a new level of discretion when I choose to write about the things that I write about. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not uninspired, but recently I realized that when I write about my personal life I’m at my best, regardless as to what’s going on or going wrong in it.
But some of the characters in my blog are also the friends and people that are reading my blog, which means we’re in the middle of a conflict of interest, a sometimes double entendre, and the reality that they may or may not end up as a character in it. I once wrote that I couldn’t do this blog without my supporting cast so I guess all I can say is, I told you so.
But let’s be honest, not EVERYTHING in my life is “blogable” just because this blog exists. Some things I try to keep private as I attempt to follow a level of ethics that I live and write by. For instance…
I want to to write about my ex girlfriend of mine who puts headphones in her ears at night and lulls herself to sleep by listening to the soothing sounds of white noise, but I know people will gossip the fuck out of it if I did.
I want to write about the PYT from the 90s that is flakey as fuck, but loves the movie Heathers as much as I do, but again, it’ll all turn into talk, talk, talk, and at some point I want to at least try to protect her anonymity.
Then there’s the wide eyed, congenial lawyer I had many wines with, and how half of a glass ended up on my knee at a baseball game, but even though she doesn’t read my blog, there’s always the possibility that she might one day read my blog… just because it’s out there.
However, certain things that affect my everyday life NEED to be written about which is why I have no qualms to mention the Bumble girl I dated for a minute who read through this website and then psycho-analyzed me on dates number two and three. It never got past that night when I accepted an invitation to go to a wedding with her, then rescinded that invitation three hours later, and haven’t seen her since.
It was my call, obviously. Reading my blog and then trying to figure me out by getting drunk and calling me out on stuff I wrote about is reminiscent of people who go out to Irish bars on St. Patrick’s Day and drink themselves stupid. Fucking amateur hour. I just wish she would have taken this for what it is….a moment in time I document about my life, which she is no longer in anymore.
Maybe I was being too harsh, but a part of me was pissed that night. Who does that shit? I mean, it’s not really fair to me is it? Anyone who dates me, or knows me, or is in my circle of friends knows I write this blog and it’s pretty goddamn personal. Am I unable to be brutally honest? Do I have to censor myself now? My life is basically out there for people to read and come to think of it, I should have everyone I meet sign a non disclosure agreement stating that they won’t use the information in this blog against me, or like the Bumble girl. Please don’t drink hella tequila and start verbally attacking me, repeating the phrase “I don’t give two shits.” seventeen times in eight minutes, then regurgitating some line about how you know all this stuff about me like I’m bad in relationships and a “hopeless romantic”
No shit I’m a hopeless romantic….you read that about me on the first page of this website. I should probably update that because come to think of it… I’m definitely NOT hopeless.
I guess for now, I can try to filter the truth through strategically playing the right pawns and rooks, but you might suggest that I have to come up with more creative ideas than writing about my three muses because lately it’s been all work, wine and women. I need to get back to having an experience outside of all three of them.
But ultimately, if you give me a reason to write about you, I’m going to write about you. Just don’t do anything stupid and please don’t get offended. This blog is half satire, and that should be taken with a grain of salt, or an entire shaker for those of you who know me.
However, if you do choose to get offended, remember that it’s your choice to feel that way, and it’s my choice to not feel the need to apologize for any of it because this is MY story. I shouldn’t have to censor myself or say I’m sorry for the things that someone else did to me. I’ve got to tell my story in the most sarcastic, ironic, bitingly funny and dreadfully dramatic way possible, without cause for concern about who may or may not get butt hurt along the way. And that will have to be my new inspiration.