Hello. I'm me. Nice to meet you.
This is my (second attempt) at a first blog, which is probably obvious. (Long story short: I tried to create my first blog on another site and it looked fine and launched and yadda yadda and then later that night when I was home and downloaded the app all that existed was the the title and none of what I'd written still existed even tho it *was* there so fine I can rewrite but it seems silly (like definition of insanity silly) to rewrite on the same site I'd already had problems with. So. Take 2. New day, new site, mostly reused words.)
The purpose of this blog is words. You really just got a good introduction to what you can expect <see above paragraph>. My brain is so full of words. I try to limit the amount on dump on my friends in our Facebook secret clubhouse. They are good, kind, patient people who do not complain, but I still often feel guilty and exit with actually posting the long rambling <vague arm gesture to express what words cannot> I spent 20 minutes typing.
(It's odd because I don't have that many words to say. But there are so many I need to write. Maybe we'll explore that later, tho probably not.)
So I thought: a blog. I don't really expect anyone to see it -- but this is the internet where miracles happen, as long as they require you to reenter your password multiple times because you have a fiendishly long and complex and thus secure password you cannot type correctly on the first try. Even if someone stumbles upon this, no one is required to actually read anything. I just need a place to regularly dump all of these words so they do not (continue to) form into the compost heap of hell.
In the previous attempt at a first post I illustrated my point about the verbal excesses inside my head with a story about lunch. Should I try to recreate it? I mean, you should have a pretty good idea of what it looks like in there. Moot point. Of course I'm including the story. Brain dump, remember?
"Again, it looks like I brought a picnic for the whole office and not just lunch for myself," I said kind of to my coworkers and kind of just to the air.
S replied, "It's appreciated."
I made it clear it was indeedy just lunch for myself as I spread lettuce, rice and shredded chicken, new package of shredded cheese, bottle of lime juice, 20-pack (with maybe half left) of soft tortillas, and a small spoon on my desk. R said something about burritos. And S commented on hard taco shells. And I spoke about soft taco shells and ate my lunch tacos.
Meanwhile in my head my brain commented how much it/we/I like my current insulated lunch bag. Clearly it can hold a lot (all of the above food, accessories, and a trade paperback mystery). But it/we/I still miss my old red lunch bag. The shoulder strap broke -- twice -- the night I ran over the deer corpse that was stretched across both eastbound lanes of I64. I always say it was a deer. I never saw what it was. I mean, I would have swerved and hopefully avoided at least most of it if I had seen a corpse on the highway. I didn't see any news stories that week about a human corpse run over on the interstate. Altho it was a couple of counties away from home (Kentucky has a crazy amount of counties so chances are anything you experience is at least a couple of counties away) and beyond what is usually covered in my local news feed. I'm sticking with deer.
And my brain then recounted the tale to its imaginary friends while I discussed taco Tuesdays with my coworkers.
The point isn't that I have an awesome lunch bag or that tacos are the food of the gods or even that deer really need brake lights and turn signals. The point is that my brain and I often lead separate conversations because one set of words isn't enough.
Even as I typed the bit about Kentucky having lots of counties a part of brain is Googling Kentucky to explain that it is so many square miles (I don't know the number offhand because my brain can't actually Google while my hands are otherwise engaged)and 120 counties! Which is nuts. Now I really want to Google states ranked in order by number of counties. I bet California and Texas have more. Probably a few other states. But I bet Kentucky makes the top 10. Are we in the top 5 for number of counties? Damn. Now I have to look it up.
Damn. Kentucky is 4th. Texas is 1st. Fair play to 'em. Slightly more than twice the counties and, what, three times the size? How many Kentuckys fit into a Texas? Those of you rolling your eyes, how is this any sillier than 6th grade math word problems? And California is way down on the list, like maybe halfway.
Annnnnd all of that explains why I can't ever really clear this clutter out of my brain. My brain is self-cluttering, like a person who donates boxes of old books and magazines and shoes and DVDs and screwdrivers and dolls then hits every garage sale on the way home from the Salvation Army Store.
So welcome to my mental yard sale (I don't have a garage). No haggling.
p.s. I don't have a garage and I know I don't have a garage. I keep most of the usual garage miscellany in my basement. Not my car, obviously. It's a full basement but I still don't think I could park a Jetta in it. Altho it couldn't be any worse than parallel parking in the French Quarter. Ah, New Orleans. I love you but I hate your streets. You'd think everything being one-way would make parallel parking easier, but no, it really doesn't. Anyway, no garage, just basement -- which is very clearly a Bates family home bodies buried in the walls and preserves jars of eyeballs basement -- yet somehow the word "garage" pops out of my mouth when it comes up in conversation. Which granted is not a daily or even monthly event, but still.
p.p.s. I remember addressing a few words to Archaeologists of the Future in the previous blog attempt, but I don't remember exactly where it went. So I'll just park it (tho not parallel) here. Dear River Song (I didn't actually call her out last time but she's what came to mind as soon as I typed "Archaeologists of the Future"), this clog is representative of my brain and my brain only. I'm sorry if this is the only remaining clue to daily life in the early 21st century. Please do not base your thesis on anything you read in here.
p.p.p.s. To be fair, I think the previous site was too sophisticated for my needs. Not a bad site, just overly complex for one babbling typing woman. Or at least for this babbling typing woman.
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