Are you an aardvark?...I hope you're an aardvark.

Ahem.

Well hello there.

I’m not exactly sure how one goes about a first blog post. Especially when I am rather too indecisive and neurotic to decide what it is about, and am slightly technologically retarded and don’t spend nearly enough time in this strange new land of The Internets by most people’s standards. 

It seems to me I should probably have some sort of direction to take this. However, the only problem with picking a single subject is that I would actually like to stick with this project.  Not like my usual flashes in the pan – that brief obsession with tango which I never actually started, my origami phase, that time I decided I was going to get really good at pool (and failed miserably because I don’t own a pool table and realized I hated bars), my two-day bout as a fitness buff, every houseplant I have ever owned (When I say "owned" I mean "murdered". *Sniff* Basil the basil plant and Claire the azalea, can you ever forgive me??), that week where I decided I was going to learn Latin– I could go on but it depresses me.  I really really really want to stick with this.  Which I think would be far easier for my squirrel-on-caffeine-but-now-forced-to-quit-caffeine-because-I’m-now-bat-shit-crazy-all-on-my-own brain if I wasn’t restricted to one subject. 

I know one thing for sure - I need to write SOMETHING.  How do I know?

Because if someone is nice (or stupid or bored) enough to listen these days, I will talk for three and a half hours.

Because my sister has recently threatened to let herself die if I don't start writing again. Which I think is fairly dramatic and somewhat unfair.

Because I narrate my life in my head (sometimes with a British accent. Sometimes, on an off day when I’m feeling particularly cynical and sarcastic, with Jack Nicholson’s voice. When I’m feeling antisocial and angry it’s Clint Eastwood...I don’t know why).

Because my narrations are becoming so pervasive that I actually begin to mouth them. Not aloud. Just silently mouth them. Like a twitchy, overly loquacious mime.

Because my friends and acquaintances have been kind enough to point out that I text in paragraphs.  Sometimes essays. And by “kind enough to point out” I mean they have chided me about it, laughed at me for it, and occasionally – the ones with cheaper phones – have yelled at me about it and attempted to confiscate my phone because I froze up their cellular devices with the sheer volume of words I am sending them.  Today I flooded my friend with two paragraphs just to confirm that yes, we are still on for movies at the mall today.

Fortunately for my friends and acquaintances, I’ve managed to curb my paragraph-long facebook posts. 

I guess what I’m getting at is that, in general…I bleed words.

Yep. Words. I bleed them.

Up until now, they’ve been gushing from random holes and making a bloody mess all over everyone and everything around me and freaking people out.  What I’m really hoping for at this point is more of a controlled...for lack of a better word…transfusion. You know?  Even if it’s not entirely coherent at least it’ll be kinda all in one place and not spewing everywhere making people throw up and faint. Yeah?

Yeah.

So if you’ve made it this far, thank you.

And if you’ve made it this far without throwing up or fainting at my bloody word spew, then kudos.

And if you’ve made it this far without questioning my sanity…yeah nevermind.  Let’s be realistic.

If you haven’t come to the conclusion that I’m at least a little bit mentally unsound right now then you’re probably a magical talking aardvark who’s also in denial about the unlikelihood of your own existence. 

Which would make us best friends. :D