Not Dead Yet.

Today I was playing World of Warcraft (I watched the sun rise over Kalimdor - it rises in the Northwest - isn't that weird?) and everything froze up while I was flying over the Blasted Lands. Then a blue screen appeared. I thought it was The Blue Screen of Death that I've heard so much about. But it wasn't. It was definitely a blue screen, but apparently it wasn't the one of DEATH.

My first thought was, "Oh my god. My computer is broken. I can't blog at work, and now I can't blog at home. It's over. Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven is over."

Can you imagine a worse situation? Nobody would ever again be able to hear about how much I love Donny & Marie and Heinz Ketchup and Asian men. There would be no more updates about my passion for The Rock. I couldn't share my thoughts about being alone (not lonely, swear to God...), and I wouldn't be able to blather on and on about meaningless self-doubt and minor weight-loss victories.

Maybe I am cynical tonight. The truth is that this blog means almost nothing anymore. I received an e-mail from a friend far away who said, "I notice that your blog has changed. Actually, I noticed it last fall already, and chalked it up to Toddy gettin' motivated and doing stuff and generally taking control. In my mind, I saw montages with peppy background music - Toddy leaping out of bed in the morning, the covers fluttering to the side while he energetically brushes his teeth, gets dressed, and jets off to work with a piece of toast in his mouth; Toddy typing on his manual typewriter and ripping a finished work of prose out to hand it to his eagerly-waiting editor while the credits stop rolling ("Sit, Ubu, Sit!"), Toddy laughing with friends during lunch, Toddy laughing with friends at the bar after work, Toddy on the elliptical trainer, falling over comically when the gorgeous personal trainer smiles at him and checks him out, Toddy going home to prepare a fourteen-course meal for his friend Auburn Pisces (okay, that last one isn't real). Funny, having read your blog for going on three years, it is as interesting for what isn't there as for what is."

There is so much that isn't here anymore. I have gone inside myself. My friends are noticing it, and my readers are noticing it. I suppose I have as much to say as I ever did (virtually nothing of significance) but I feel so selfish lately. I don't want people to know where I am or what I'm up to. All the things that are on my mind feel so private, and I am way more protective of myself than I ever used to be. Part of me yearns for people to really know and understand me. The other part wants to hide in the shadows. Is this what "becoming your own best friend" is like?

It is kind of cool and kind of sad at the same time.