Highway to the Danger Zone; or, Cleaning Out My Closet

Do you know why blogging is So Dangerous?

I'll tell you. It's dangerous because as a blogger, you tell yourself "no big deal," you're just writing a public diary. But that is an oxymoron. Already, your brain is confused. Then, it gets more complicated because as a blogger, you've decided that your blog is NOT going to be a blog that reads like "My life is so perfect and stylish, here is a sweater I knitted out of hair from the mane of unicorns--look at these cute buttons I fashioned out of bullets! Well, off to do more yoga." So, you make a point of emphasizing moments of awkwardness and failure. You put up excerpts of your old diary entries, and pictures from the ugliest phase of your life, and stories about how you're a little messed up in the head.

All of that sharing may very well be therapeutic. But what must be remembered is that you've got friends who read your blog, and also some kind-hearted "future-friends" (strangers), and every once in awhile they're going to comment. They're going to tell you that you're not as uncool as you think you are, or that you weren't as ugly as you thought you were, or, worst of all, that you're a funny blogger. And this, to a blogger, is crack cocaine. It is deadly.

Because now I just want to push even harder for more positive reinforcement, like a dog who wants just one more Beggin' Strip (it's baaacon!). I want to tell even grosser secrets about myself (I like Justin Beiber--see below; I've decided leggings ARE pants (sorry Fuggirls); I was on the futon watching movies until 3pm today, in pajamas I've had since I was twenty-one, lying on two days worth of pretzel crumbs); and be told that it's okay! It's funny! I'm still a good person! A great person.

And I'm thinking that this phenomenon--getting some sort of good pay-off for sharing the various ways that you are bad news--is exactly what gets lots of bloggers blogging badly in order to feel good.

Dangerous.

Also dangerous: blogging under the influence. It is one of the legs of my platform: no blogging when you've been drinking like you have a hollow leg. That's a weird expression, but you know, several glasses of wine have been swishing around in my hollow leg since Monday evening (at the beginning of a semester, students and educators drink like fish--fish with hollow legs? I've bungled this one terribly--) so for the past few days, I've had to forego blogging on account of fuzzy-mindedness. This blog may be inane, and it is probably boring, but the very least I can promise you who read it is that you aren't reading the inarticulate ramblings of a drunk person. Just the inarticulate ramblings of a sober one.

I can also promise you that you will smile when you watch the music video below. Unless you don't have a soul. Also: yes, he's fifteen. So, watch it, then go ahead and tell me it is totally acceptable for me to be obsessed with this little bugger.

Peace out,
Kendall