I seriously contemplated answering the questions that people flood my inbox, because quite honestly, most of them are stupid.
From psychological assessments of my fear of geese to my saying “No, I won’t go out with you,” some are interesting, some…are “special.”
But the number one thing I’m asked is;
“Are you writing about me?”
The answer kids, is no & not just because usually that question is sent anonymously (if I have no idea who the eff you are, how am I writing about you?!), but because I simply don’t. I may mention a friend here & there, but I keep them private as it seems unfair to put someone’s identity out there without permission. I write about my life occasionally in high level terms but I still like my private life, so I tend to wax about nothing while settling my creative urge.
I used to think that perhaps it was narcissism that makes people think that clearly every word I write is about them. Obviously, they must be arrogant & think my entire existence is nothing but them. Drew & I laugh @ “the rich subtext” that clearly means “Dear (blah), here are my thoughts…” (Sometimes he finds the rich subtext of my texts hahaha). However, another friend of mine offered another opinion.
He said perhaps people think its about them because I’m writing what they need to hear. The proverbial kick in the ass that will get them to where they need. Perhaps my nothing is actually a voice for those who can’t make sense of their thoughts, communicate with their spouse, find a way to tell the person they’ve wronged that they’re sorry, clean up the mess of their own design & enjoy what they truly want. Maybe I have a voice & a platform!
Because I’m the freaking Oracle.
I’ve had people tell me that my ramblings have helped inspire them or give them insight & it makes me laugh, mainly because I’m the last person who should give advice. I’m kind of a scatterbrained tornado of good intentions. Maybe I underestimate my own abilities. Maybe that’s good. Maybe if I actually thought anything I ever put out there was going to do anything other than make people laugh @ my hippie silliness, I would put too much pressure on myself & my writing would suffer (listen to my ego!)
So, whether its narcissism, or you’re actually taking something from all of this gibberish, I’m super glad that you’re here. I’ll write, you’ll read & maybe we’ll both learn something.
One thought on “Life on the Moon”
Ok, that’s it, now I KNOW you are writing about me. It’s ok, you can admit it.
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