Because I have so many thoughts. So many incredible, beautiful, overwhelming at-times, thoughts in my head I have to write them down. I have always wanted to be a writer. I started writing poetry when I was a teenager and then started writing Children’s stories in eighth grade.
I told my junior high sweetheart, one day I was going to be famous. He lived a house up the street from me. He teased he would keep them forever. I guess maybe that is why his current girlfriend doesn’t like me so much, and threatened to kill me.
It used to be I would go by his house, and he would flip me the bird. One day, she wanted to tell me it wasn’t her doing it. It was him. I said, “Oh I know. He is mad he never got laid.” And boom spiteful, vengeful bitch from that moment on. I don’t know what he’s said, but she hates me. She says stuff in front of my kids, and hubby. I tell her to grow up. We were like kids then. This happened years ago, and she holds a grudge.
Kinda reminds me of the Puddle of Mudd song wonder how well she knows it,
“Maybe I’m the one
Maybe I’m the one who is the schizophrenic psycho (yeah)
Maybe I’m the one
Maybe I’m the one who is the paranoid flake-o”
Writing is a good outlet to get my thoughts organized. I have a lot of them up there. It is just too frustrating to leave them floating around inside of my head with nowhere to go. I have learned that can be dangerous because sometimes I will just explode. For example, if I am watching a movie like the Hunger Games and they are picking the kids to go off and fight and it makes me sad I will cry. I know it’s the freakin Hunger Games, right? Or If I am upset over something the Hubby did and it irritates me too long, I’ll try talking to him about it, and if it doesn’t go the right way, well then, it depends on his mood I guess.
If he ever found my blog, I am not sure how he would take it. Jeremy is a private person. He didn’t like it when there was a Myspace and I blogged there. He didn’t like what I put on my page but whatever, I’m not like that. I am me. Take it or leave it. I am a writer and I am open and honest. I am a horrible liar. It is not like I have all of our names listed here. Or where we live. Or the intimate details of our passionate sex life.
So yeah, this is MY thing. He has his car thing that he LOVES so stinking much. I have this. I have my writing. I have my laptop that I am learning to use awesomely with less error thank the Lord. If he finds it and wants to complain, then complain. It isn’t anything that doesn’t know, or I wouldn’t say to his face.
How do your significant others take your blogging? Are they supportive? Do they know you blog about them?
I figure if something about me and my stories can help someone else then I am happy. It is kinda like Violet– the therapist on Private Practice. Something horrible happened to her, and so she wrote about it in a book. Yeah, it backfired on her in the end, and Pete was not crazy about it. She went down a hard road with it and Pete in the end for her decisions, but her book helped people. That is what I hope to accomplish with my writing, I enjoy it. If I can make someone else smile or laugh, I am happy!