Thursday, January 20, 2011

Nothing Topics

I’m the kind of person who’s all over the place. Screenwriting, poker, racquetball, tea, novels, computer stuff, that’s me. That’s how I’ve always been. I’m not a natural blogger and can’t help but sound a little boring and nerdy when posting. Every now and then I tap into a rant that gets my juices flowing, but usually I’m reflective, pedestrian, and quiet.
I tend not to write too much about myself. I like thinking of myself as this super open, generous autobiographer who loves the naval-gaze as much as any other narcissist, and yet whenever I write anything that goes beyond the surface, I either delete it or redirect the thought to something less personal. When I’m talking with someone one-on-one I can go deep and bare my soul, but not so much when I’m writing. I used to write letters all the time in the 80s. I was crazy back then without knowing it. I know I’m crazy now and that has made for a wonderfully calming effect.
Actually, I’m not technically crazy, just the poster boy for adult children of alcoholics. I’m that guy, the overly controlling, terribly insecure, don’t-tell-me-what-to-do extremist who acts normal most of the time, but can become unraveled in a heartbeat. There’s something truly liberating about acknowledging the state of my internal brokenness. There are things I’ll never get over, ever, and yet when I acknowledge this, I’m in a way sort of done with it.

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