My Fingers Rule

I had to blog. I can't believe I haven't since 1990 or whatever.
Blogging left my head. It usually hangs over me like a cloud. I stress out, wondering what the hell I should write about that might win the "Nobel Peace Prize". Slowly as the days turn to weeks, I start trying to think of any items that may not be a repeat of stuff I've already written. Finally, I post asinine stuff that flows directly from my fingers. Some men think with their nether regions, I think with my fingers.

I keep trying to escape Facebook. I canceled my account once, then realized I needed to send a message to someone that I can only contact through Facebook, or a friend of a friend. It was too personal to pass through a friend, so I wrote it on the Facebook wall. Ha(if you don't use Facebook, this is like using a see-through outhouse in Times Square)ha! I should have sent it through a friend of a non-friend/Facebook friend.

I have too many friends on Facebook. I start feeling guilty for not commenting about the fact that they watched the latest James Bond movie or who they just became friends with. When I do comment, my fingers get away with murder. For all to see. All those people, friends from the past, friends from the present, friends I care about, friends I am obligated to be friends with, people I despise, etc. All of the Facebook community, its a sample of everyone alive I've gotten to know (maybe some dead, yet not deactivated? Ooooooooooooooooooh). Why is it I would want to tell them my status? Why would they want to know what the hell banal crap I may be doing? After all, they are probably my friends because they don't know me. They don't know my fingers' views.

My finger's views are aberrant and rampant. Just because you are not reading this on Facebook does not mean you will learn my fingers' full unedited aberrant views. They may actually be alright, but I'll never know because I don't want people thinking I'm a crazy person when I bounce my fingers' views around. You never know whether its crazy or not until you let it go, like a float at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade pre-1950s. Man those were the days! Just let it go cause the chance it'll land on you are really really slim, plus no one knew about nitrates, ozone or carbon footprints. So, every once-in-a-while I slip up and let my fingers allude to their views on Facebook. But its my face they hide behind.

Back to blogging leaving my head. It left. It never entered my stream. It was gone. I'm listening to some old Metallica intrumental right now. I'm eating ham off my daughters plate. See! Gone like that! Subject diverted, never to return. Just gone. Until one day, I was checking Facebook to see what jerky comments someone had posted and began an instant message conversation with Todd. Somehow, in the middle of our IMing, he checked my blog and commented that what I was IMing with him about wasn't on my blog. That's when I remembered I had one. The one where a picture of an ant has been sitting there since October 2008. That blog. This blog.