It’s terrible when someone formerly fun and free-spirited decides he’s serious now. Like Jim Carrey doing a dramatic role. That’s what I’ve become. I’ve become a Jim Carrey. I used to have this one funny thing I could do, and now I unironically drink roasted dandelion root tea (tastes like dead things!) and discuss the seriousness of mental disorders. I’m going on Charlie Rose soon to discuss my craft. Which leads me to…

What am I doing with this blog?

What I’m doing, actually, is writing an entry to get that other entry off the top spot, and also waiting for a book vendor to call me back. I also have a tab open and I’m reviewing a children’s book (summary of review: it’s pink). I’m a multi-tasker. What can I say?

Oh, right, what am I doing with this blog? I don’t know. I am wondering a few things, and I’m not sure where to go with things.

1. I would sort of kind of like to take my book down from sites. I want to do this because I am a sensitive little butterfly and knowing that even a little part of me is out there in the world unprotected makes me anxiety-ridden.

1a. But so many of you have been SO GREAT and SO SUPPORTIVE that I don’t want to take it down just because of a few people and my anxiety.

1b. But my anxiety. Oof.

1c. But my book! And quite honestly, the sales were wonderful and I will be forever grateful to you.

2. I have locked most of the entries on this blog, re: anxiety. I am also off almost all social media because of this. I’ve thought a few times of unlocking posts that don’t mention personal details so I won’t lose jobs and stuff any longer, but…

2a. MY ANXIETY!

3. Maybe I should just quit it all, for now, writing-wise? I am on the cusp (I always confuse the words cuff and cusp, and imagine myself standing on a very big wrist of a very big man) of some good work things, if all goes well. They make me happy in a way I haven’t felt in a long while.

3a. But I love writing! And I can just be a writing hobbyist! Right? And it is very much a part of who I am that I can’t express in any other way. If I could channel my writing energy into interpretive dance, maybe I would. (I wouldn’t.) But I can’t. (I won’t.)

3b. But the idea of people reading my words has me all anxious and barfy and anxious. Even when people like it, I think they’re just being nice to me.

3c. Not that I should care! I have been working in therapy on not caring what people think.

3d. So I shouldn’t quit?

3e. But my anxiety! And I’ve been doing so well. But then I write a post like the last one, where everyone responds very kindly, but the idea of being out there and so vulnerable had me sobbing into my blankets and totally incapacitated.

4. I don’t even know what I was talking about. If you want to weigh in KINDLY, please do. If you don’t, might I offer you some dandelion root tea?