Validation

     It doesn't take much to make me happy...or to make me delve way to deep into though for that matter...but sitting here just now reading the couple comments and Facebook likes I've gotten since shamelessly plugging my blog on my wall is already enough validation for me regarding my choice to blog.  I can't help but think about how isolating life is as we all get further into it.  It's so hard to reach out to people when you need help, even if it's just to talk, much less to ask for something.  That's why I've always written.  My entire life I have felt like such a burden on everyone around me.  There was never enough growing up....money, time, emotional availability...and I managed to develop and hold on to some kind of complex about my neediness of other people.  

     I never had a car growing up and I would rather miss out on things than ask other people to drive me places.  I would rather have not eaten lunch than ask anybody to lend me a couple bucks if I was short.  I grew up wanting relationships but not having all that many for fear that I would be a burden.  I have always written when I was lonely or when I felt like nobody would understand.  When I didn't want to bother anybody else with my problems, I found comfort in the way my favorite pens felt bleeding out emotions into my favorite notebooks.  Now I find comfort in the fact that I am able to take something that I unintentionally self-isolated myself with and turn it around to use it to reach out to people.  

     Everything moves so fast these days...We carry around tiny computers in our pockets and use brain cells to adapt our normal thoughts to make sense in a 140 character Twitter configuration.  Everyone knows what everyone else is doing all the time thanks to status updates and check ins, but nobody really knows anything significant about the meaningful thoughts and emotions of even a few of the people around them at any given time.  

     I often take my love for writing things down for granted.  I'm not a great writer by any means, but I've met people in recent years that can't sit down and write a letter, much less express anything about their internal environment on paper.  Whether they are good are not, I am so thankful for the way my brain works and how words just pour out of me whenever I want them to (and sometimes when I don't, hence my perpetual sleep debt and friends in need of earplugs). I have found adulthood, and parenthood especially to be a very isolating experience in itself, so I am thankful for the opportunity to connect with other adults, even if it's only through a half assed attempt at social behavior like Facebook or blogging, because it makes me feel like I'm more than just a diaper changer and booger wiper.  Who would have thought that my insatiable urge to kill trees by filling up notebooks with randomness would one day turn into a blog that makes me grateful just to connect with somebody....anybody...because after all life isn't much without the human element.  

     I don't care if everybody who reads this goes right back to being self-absorbed assholes or knocks every word I type....I am grateful for the feeling that for a moment what I have to say matters enough for someone to stop long enough to consider it.  And now I will shut up with all this emotional philosophical ranting....but thanks. ;)

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