A Strange Phenomenon

I have discovered of late a strange thing about blogging. When I'm alone - falling asleep, driving, waiting for someone - I play with ideas. Some of them have been bouncing around in my head for years. I've even blogged about some of them.

Here's the weird thing - the ones I've blogged about stop bouncing around my skull shortly after being committed to pixellated notoriety. For example, I no longer make my washroom stall selection out of a desire to foil would-be assassins. I didn't realize I'd stopped until I noticed that instead of choosing stalls at random at work, I'd been taking the one closest to the door for a couple of weeks.

The same is true for things that bug me - one self-aggrandizing ex-husband in particular. Once I've vented here, I stop worrying about them.

The latter is a good thing - blogging as stress relief and unloader of psychic burdens. The former, however, worries me a little. I like my weird ideas, and I worry that there is a less than infinite supply. What happens if I write everything good here, and wind up with nothing to entertain myself with on long drives? Will I start arguing with talk radio dj's, or singing along with Britnee/Ashlee/Flavourofthemonthlee, or voting NDP?

So I'm thinking I need to stop giving up the good stuff here, and just write about things that bother me. Turn this into a pure whine-blog. That way, I can maintain a high level of personal weirdness ad infinitum.

I'm idiosyncratic, and I'm proud!