Still thinking...

I was surfing some new blogs, and I took a short cut off of my blog circuit that eventually took me round and round into places I've never been before. I felt like a journeyman, stopping here for water, stopping there for lodging. I got a sneaky peak into the minds of strange men and women.
I wondered what it would be like to have a blog where I was alone with my thoughts and a huge community of fans who couldn't tell me from Adam, but who were in love with my thoughts.
This is TOTAL narcissism, I'm warning you.
Okay, so, you know, being like one of those bloggers who is anonymous and melodramatic. Who splats mediocre thoughts and forms breathtaking art. Where it is permissible to not be yourself. Where feelings are more important than events. Poetry, prose, and personality-disorders. Melodrama, memories, and men (grin).
I'm so glad I've got better things to do in life. No disrespect to those people who do have blogs of the sort, they really are an entertaining read (if only I had the time and the self-discipline to remain true to a blog circuit of strangers), but I cannot see myself as one of them.
I thrive off of people. I enjoy the things people say to me because they know me, not because they're trying to display wit or perceptive wisdom in a comment on PMS. I appreciate what my friends have to say, whether it's good, bad, just plain conversation, or pure lunacy.
I can imagine being one of those anonymous bloggers--satisfied during the day with my 1,000+ readers, my mention on "CNN blogs of the week!" and my comments that leak adoration and respect--and then going to bed at night wondering what it's all for. Realizing that I'm wasting so much time spilling my thoughts to a community of detatched strangers who wouldn't care less about me if I were beside them--tangible flesh and blood, emotions and needs that make them responsible for who I am and how I feel.
Hmmm...I'm still thinking.