The Agony We Choose

Hi everybody! Thank you for the kind words and helpful tactics (and horror stories) you all shared last week. Was it last week? Or the week before? Geez! I haven't posted in ages. I know. I'm suffering a considerable amount of guilt over it. This was my worst fear when starting a blog... That I would get a few months in and run out of steam. Out of interest. Out of things to say.

Except that I still have all KINDS of things to say. I just can't talk about them here. First, because of The Rules. And second, because of... The Uninteresting Whining. Because that is all it would be. Rage and whining and nothing worth reading. Aren't you glad I've stayed silent? And in case you're wondering, nothing has changed yet. But I'm choosing to rise above. Well, today, I am. Who knows about tomorrow...

I also kind of unplugged from all social media. I threw myself into this (blogging, tweeting, commenting, reading, participating) when I first started and I loved it. I met a lot of cool people, had some crazy-awesome Twitter conversations, and have made some genuine friends. And I still love it. But I haven't figured out the balance of it yet. Because as soon as I joined Twitter under this name, I stopped checking Facebook under my REAL name. Now, Facebook drives me crazier than almost anything, so this might be a good break, but I have to ask myself if all of this is worth it if it causes me to abandon my real-life relationships...

Plus, now that I follow more than twelve people on Twitter, it's hard to keep up with the stream. And you know how much I love to read things from the beginning and all the way through. But that is practically impossible! So last weekend, I kind of unplugged from everything and then never replugged.

But I miss my people. I miss the crazy tweets and the comments. And I miss expressing myself and having people respond. You know, the reasons I got into this in the first place. So I'm back and trying again.

Has anyone realized that this post has basically been about nothing so far? Well, we're going to change that right now. I'm going to ramble aimlessly, but it's going to be ABOUT something. About my plans for the evening. Hey! I'm easing back in. No judging.

Tonight, I am at Mom and Papa's house for dinner. Supposedly because Sister wants to watch the Cubs game with Mom. But mostly because Mom offered to cook. Which actually sounds like it's going to end up with Mom picking up pizza. Because it's Two for Tuesday at Papa Johns. I may have referred to this as Bad Decision Tuesday in the past. But that's only because I was alone with two extra large Hawaiian pizzas and Satan's Cat was powerless to stop the calories, not because this pizza is a bad decision. This pizza is the BEST DECISION EVER!

So we will eat pizza. And they will watch baseball. I will not be watching baseball. Because even though I was raised a Cubs fan (my parents grew up in Illinois), played t-ball as a child (read: picked clover in out in left field), and can talk about the game more knowledgeably than any other sport and most other hobbies (just don't get me started on horse racing), I pretty much HATE baseball.

Okay, that's not true. I just hate talking about baseball. I actually enjoy the game. I like watching it on TV. When I lived close to a city with a team, I liked going to live games. I liked watching my brother play for most of his childhood and adolescence (mostly I liked the ballpark junk food and playing with Barbies under the bleachers, that's pretty much the same). I like baseball. I just can't get worked up about it. I can't find any passion for it.

Sister, however, has. Located. The. Passion. She LIVES AND BREATHES baseball. Okay, maybe that's a little strong. But she has like seven apps on her iPhone to help her keep track of the Cubs and the NL Central, she reads at least three sports bloggers, and she watched or DVRs almost every game. And it makes her happy, so I don't complain. Much.

But I have personally given up on the Cubs. It's been 103 years, people. It's no longer optimistic. It's no longer hopeful. It's just plan masochistic. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Sister. But this is not really new information to either of you, am I right? I love you...

So while they enjoy the pain of the predictable ninth inning give-away, I'll be reading my book. A book that was foist upon me by a friend who claimed it was an amazing series and I HAD to read it. It's teen fantasy, which is not my normal cup of tea, but I'm pretty willing to try anything on the recommendation of a friend. And it's not THAT bad. Except that the main character found out (near the end of the first book) that her love interest is her brother. Which is weird and whatever, but I think we're all aware that this will turn out to be a lie or a red herring or something. EXCEPT THAT I'M FULLY INTO THE THIRD BOOK AND HE'S STILL HER BROTHER! AND THEY'RE STILL MAKING OUT OCCASIONALLY!!! But I cant stop reading now. Because I have to find out. If I leave now, it's like it's true and it will always be true. But if I keep reading, there's a chance it's not.

Well I guess we all find our own ways to punish ourselves, huh... So, in the grand tradition of blogging (starting discussions about things-that-no-one-ever-thinks-to-discuss-but-are-incredibly-important-to-discuss), tell me about the ways you've been punishing yourself recently. Er... Uh... Not that kind of self-punishment... Come on, people, you know what I mean! Right?