It’s 2 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, and I’m sneaking back into my blog hoping that it won’t catch me. It’s like I’m 13 again and I can just hear the lecture coming. "Where have you been? Don’t you know I’ve been worried sick about you?" And then the note of accusation. "What have you been doing out there?" That’s what it’s like when your blog starts to sound like your mother. "You need to practice every day if you want to be the best. And how many times do I have to tell you to clean up your comment spam?"
It’s true. I’ve been out galavanting. It’s hard because reality-world is, like, really addicting, you know? You tell yourself you’ll just spend a few minutes away from the computer, and then before you know it, hours have passed. And that can go on for days before you realize you’re just totally zoned out in this completely different world. It’s really cool while your in it. I mean, it’s totally mesmerizing. But when you get saturated? Man, what a mental hangover. And then you start obsessing about whether or not you have a problem. And the guilt comes on like some annoying song that you can’t get out of your head. ~Hello darkness my old friennndd. I’ve come to talk with you againnnn.~
And then I start worrying about how to get back without getting caught, which is next to impossible because emails and IMs are starting to come in with people worried about whether I’ve died or something. I mean, I haven’t posted in days. Did I get super-resistent tuberculosis or something? But I can’t stay out forever. Eventually, I have to go home to my blog and face the consequences. I’ll have to write some tortured explanation and promise that I’ll never do it again, that I’ve learned my lesson. And I’ll do all that. It’s part of the routine. But secretly, there’s a part of me that thinks sneaking out was the coolest thing ever, and I can’t wait to do it again.
So when I’m gone and the date stamp on my last post is looking and more and more like a scarlet letter, you should know two things.
1. I will be back. It’s impossible for me not to write, and you’re my favorite
Oh, and when I’m back, I’ll tell you all the good stuff.
2. Whatever I’m not writing while I’m away is vastly more interesting than
what I would be writing if I were here. (I know. It’s deep.)
Okay, three things.
3. I’m having a blast. You should come some time. Can you get out?