On the divinity of toffee

The reason that I don't like to be too serious online is very simple: Life is hard, man. The better you get to know people, the more you find out that most of us have been through some truly awful things. Not everyone, of course, just most people. In fact, the older I get, I'm more amazed to find someone who defies the Law of Universal Shittiness and has had a fairly easy time of it. I'm not talking about people who, at least by certain standards, haven't had any "real" problems but are nevertheless unhappy or discontented, because that actually is a real problem. No, I'm talking about people for whom life just kind of works.

Instead, it seems to me that most of us are just trying to get through the day. People have all kinds of coping mechanisms. Like religion. Or Ben & Jerry's. Guess which one has answered more questions for me? It's pretty basic and highly personal: Ben & Jerry's makes perfect ontological sense to me and, really, isn't that all anyone can ask for in a belief system? In addition to ice cream, though, I'm a pretty big fan of diversion -- the more mindless, the better. I can't really shut my brain off, so I depend on bad TV, good movies, and the black hole of uselessness that is the internet to at least slow it down from time to time.

The problem, of course, is that the more time spent diverting, the less time spent living. I don't do a whole hell of a lot with myself. Seems like managing my mind is a full-time job. That's why it's good that I'm writing this. Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying this is art -- but it is an outlet that's at least not completely bereft of value. Value for me, at least. The rest of you are on your own. Why are you reading this, anyway? Have you asked yourself that? Because you probably should.

At any rate, I'm also having a raging internal debate about what to share and how candidly to share it. Avoiding a pity party on Facebook is one thing, but this is a blog, and unless it's a blog about Something, (golf, Uzbek politics, nail polish), it's about the blogger. And while I try to find humor in my life wherever I can, the fact remains that there has been and continues to be a lot of seriously unfunny shit going on, and sometimes I just can't spin it otherwise. So do I keep these things to myself, or do I put them out there, as is, in the clearance section of my oeuvre? (Yeah, I said oeuvre. Deal with it.) Even in my small online world, there are some very brave people sharing some very personal and difficult things, and I think that's important for them and for their readers, but it's just not my style. Or at least it hasn't been. Now, though, I realize that even a little authenticity goes a long way in this medium, so I maybe I need to loosen up a bit.

I do want to try to keep the blog somewhat fun, or at least not entirely focused on the perpetual cycle of depressive realism and oddly motivational delusion that is my existence, but it seems I can't completely hide myself, and perhaps I shouldn't. At least for today, though, I'm not interested in and/or ready to really open up. I suspect a few of you know (or have at least figured out) more about me than I'd care to realize. I suppose some things are pretty transparent if for some reason you're paying attention. Some of you, of course, know quite a lot about me, and if you leave any of it in the comments I will cut you. I am working on a finely crafted mystique here, people. Do not trifle with me.

Really, though, it's better this way. I don't want to talk so much about the heavy shit and you probably don't want to hear it. I'd rather direct my efforts more toward restocking the universe's supply of diversionary material. It's simple reciprocity for how much of it I've depleted over the years, and it seems somehow morally right. That and a pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch might just lead me to enlightenment.