Do-over!

Sometimes I wish I could go back and edit these entries. Yes, I know, I know. There is an edit button. I have used it to make minor alterations before. What I’m talking about is editing after a day or more has passed. But the impression has already been made. To go back an edit would mean nothing. It can’t be taken back.

Often times I write things in a way I don’t mean or I’m unintentionally hurtful or purposefully hurtful. I go back a day later and realize this. Or, I write as I’m feeling in that moment of writing. Later I have more perspective on the situation and feel that way no longer. Anger. I’m a huge culprit of writing when angry.

I have debates about using names in this blog. With a few exceptions, I don’t mention names. Should I, shouldn’t I? Will people misunderstand who I’m talking about? It’s widely known that we tend to see ourselves in the anonymous. A perfect example is Post Secret. There’s the brief moment when you think the person the secret-teller is addressing might be you. Will people come across this blog and think: “That sounds like they’re talking about me! Maybe I know this person!” Sorry, I could be talking about any number of people.

So what am I to do? Write various drafts of each post? This is a personal blog, not a professional one. Why shouldn’t I keep the emotion-filled entries? They’re just as much a part of me as the sober, articulated posts. But just a part of me, not a definition. Can you define a person by their blog? Should those assumptions be made? They shouldn’t, but they have and will continue to.

I am not this blog. This blog is not me. It portrays representations of feelings and reactions. It’s Aristotle’s cave parable all over again. These are not words to stand the test of time. In a week, they will crumbled before the new person I am, who harbors new ideas and sentiments.

 

Short Post

I have a lot of things to say, but I can’t say them. Funny how this post comes in lieu of SOPA/PIPA. I’m censoring myself, that’s all there is to it. I can’t even explain this post fully. I’m censoring myself right now as I type. In this very instant!

I go to type something, but then I pause and think to myself “No, I can’t write that.” The worst of it is, the things I want to say aren’t even hurtful or mean! If I was being slanderous then, oh yeah, it makes sense why I would tell myself to not write something. But I’m not being crass or inappropriate.

Rrrr. This is frustrating.

 

Consideration

I kind of want a Tumblr account. I realize it isn’t all that different from a regular blog, say here on WordPress. But there’s something about it that just seems so simple. Like, you’re on someone else’s page and you see a picture you like, you can just re-blog it. With just one click, as I understand.

There seems to be such a community there. To me this is good and bad. Good because one person sees that you re-blogged what they wrote, and they visit your page, and visa verse. However, it’s bad because I don’t usually fit into communities and groups. Also, if I get noticed because of this community, it could easily be found by people who I don’t want reading it.

My ex-boyfriend, Taylor, for example could find it. And I’ve really had enough of him. It’s bad enough that he had his girlfriend send me a Facebook message, saying that he wants me to call him.

I like WordPress, though, and don’t want to abandon it. Maybe there’s a way to hook the two together?

 

Promise

I’m working on making a post! I swear, I am! I have three saved drafts right now with a fourth idea in the works! I’ll get to it soon!

 

In Which, Titles and Whatever Else

If I didn’t make myself title my posts, I probably never would. I would let it go once and then never turn back. In my mind, a title is a very important part of a blog post. For reference, or something. Though I rarely have said anything important enough to reference it in a future post.

Titles have always been really difficult for me. I feel like I need to come up with a title before I even write the post, which is ridiculous. Titles are supposed to be semi-descriptive of what is being written. If it hasn’t been written yet, it cannot yet be described. And now I’m writing about titles when I actually had something else I wanted to write about. So I’m going to have a really bad segue…

I’m probably a terrible girlfriend. Or just unstable. Wait. I know I’m unstable. I’ve known that for some time, but I opted to go off my pills. I’m a genius. Sarcasm is not becoming, I know.

I have a tendency, when in a relationship, to get really scared of committment and basically ruin the relationship single-handed because I’m insecure. Everything will start off fine, but about a month into the relationship, I will freak out because the guy has gotten too close. I will push him away, become extremely standoffish, in addition to being passive-aggressive. My attentions will wander, even though I don’t actually want a relationship with a guy other than the one I’m actually in a relationship in.

Such a thing is happening now with Alex. He keeps mentioning things that hint at furthering our relationship. Like his landlord has told him that Alex needs to get me “knocked up and married.” This freaks me out. Waaaay freaked out. Of course, I feel like I can’t convey these feelings to Alex. That would make too much sense for my mind. My mind interprets the whole situation as “If I tell him how messed up my mind really is, he’ll realize I’m crazy. No one wants to be with some one that is crazy. Taylor certainly didn’t. I don’t want to go back to that again.”

So then, I stop truly talking to Alex and I unintentionally push him away. Meanwhile, there are guys all around the campus and a few of them I see nearly everyday. And I start getting subtly flirty with them. But at the same time, I avoid those guys (in this case, there is only one guy) because I have a boyfriend. I lost Alex once and I don’t want to do it again. And I feel wretched. And I was going to tell him why I’m so passive-aggressive, but when I was hinting that I would like him to call me (because I also feel like I can’t call him) he went to bed or was just ignoring me. I, of course, thought it was him ignoring me.