the badbadivy experience

I dunno, sometimes I just get struck with the urge to just sit down and cry, or just do absolutely nothing that I am supposed to be doing. Holly Golightly would diagnose me with a case of the “mean reds” and send me to Tiffany’s or something.

I should be working, promoting posts, but instead, I’m doing a brain dump here. Way to manage that time, there, Ivy. No, I think a no-delete free-thought post ala Kat Coble is the way to go here.

Of course, when I start writing these things, all thought goes out of my head. Figures, right? Oy. I was describing what blogging is to someone recently and I used my usual “it’s like an online magazine” description to them. The only problem was, they had seen my personal blog and were like, “well, what is that? is that like your personal diary? on the web? for all to see?”

Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. I’m not exactly sure why I put it out there for the entire world to see, other than the fact that I’m a total exhibitionist, attention whore, and, well, yeah. Attention whore. Man, am I ever an attention whore. It’s funny, really, the lengths I will sometimes go to to get people to pay attention to me. This is one of the reasons I really try to pay attention to my kids when they talk to me.

Not that I always manage it. Sometimes it just gets to be altogether too much. Eh. You know what I’d like? I’d like to take a weekend on the beach and just chill and have someone there to fawn all over me and just let me talk and talk and talk to them. How awesome would that be? Freaking conversation, lord, I love conversation.

Okay. Enough wasting time, back to work.