Have you ever done something that you felt good about at the time only to return to it later and realize that now you've become a neurotic shell of the person you once were and nothing that you did seems right and your life is a failure? Because that's what I felt like when I woke up and realized that I had started a blog.
It's not the idea of having a blog that had me sniveling in a dark corner in fear of the crushing defeat sure to come, but rather the idea that I had the audacity to think that I have anything of any value to say about anything. And no one will read my blarg and everyone will hate me and then the inner emo kid that I buried so very deep inside me after high school will reemerge like some kind of depressing, malformed moth. And then I'll listen to songs about heartache and pain and Cody will make fun of me and I'll tell him to shut the hell up because HE JUST DOESN'T UNDERSTAND MY PAIN. And then I'll drop out of college to find myself. Which translates into moving back into my parents' house and working at Wal-Mart and lashing out at the system through poetic quips on my Facebook statuses which relate consumerism to drowning in pools of blood and sorrow. Is that what you want from me, world? Is it??
But then I went out and picked up trash at a nature preserve for three hours. And it was awesome. And I got a free T-shirt (which I am wearing right now without pants because I am an American cowboy and I do what I want). And the people we were doing it for were super appreciative and nice and awesome and they didn't give a shit if I was clever or funny or worth paying attention to. All they cared about was that I was willing to pick up garbage in the sweltering heat for a few hours in exchange for a free T-shirt and a banana. And I think that makes me feel better about myself than readership on my blog ever will.
I'm not promising that I won't eventually become a big ol' ball of insecurity whose feelings of self-worth are completely tethered to pageviews. In fact, I'm pretty much gonna guarantee that that will happen. But there are more important things out there.
This post wasn't very silly and I'm not sure how to end it on a note that isn't all "let's hold hands and sing kumbaya" so I'm gonna go to my default and quote Cody:
"If you were a pile of poop, and I were a dog, I'd totally roll around in you."
Too true, Cody. Too true.
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