Addiction

Addicted: to devote or surrender (oneself) to something habitually or obsessively.

A word I know very well. Let me explain. I have a problem with addiction. Whether it's learning guitar so that I can sing lead in the imaginary rock band I've conjured up in my mind even though I have a horrible singing voice, or my dog who lights up my life on a daily basis, chocolate truffle espressos from Starbucks or picking my cuticles, I'm usually all in on something.

Let me delve a little deeper and tell you the story of my addiction to this blog: My friend Kate (and fellow blogger, check out Velvet Cupcakes to see her stuff) was casually talking about her blog at work the other day. She even mentioned that another girl we work with blogged as well. I rememebered seeing my friend Elliot's blog a few years ago and being obsessed but doing nothing about it. But for some reason, Kate's description of blogging struck a chord deep down inside. And then when I actually saw her Velvet Cupcakes, I fell in love, very deep, all consuming love. Kate was basically writing a journal for the world to read. Plus she had really pretty pictures! I dug it. Personal expression in its most modern form.

Done. My mind was made up. "I'm Addicted" had to be created. And pronto, because I found myself unable to sleep that night while my addiction addled mind arranged mental lists of future blog topics. I planned to cover a plethora of addictions: music lyrics and how they relate to every aspect of my life, learning guitar, my human dog, living alone before you get hitched (yes that means no roommates), getting older, Augusten Burroughs' ability to change the way I see my childhood, men, women, texting, well-structured sentences, gum, and the list goes on and on. Oh, oh, oh and I almost forgot: "The Story of the Naked Ex" (Don't worry this one's going to hit the air waves very soon, it already has a working title and a slammin closing line).

Sadly, anxiety attacks began taking over during this brainstorming frenzy due to the fact that I couldn't actually get a start on any of them. GUESS WHAT? I didn't have the internet at my house and haven't since I moved in last summer. Yes my friends, I would visit Starbucks on the reg to get my google on. This was a problem. With a solution...

Naturally I had to call dear Dad and beg him to sign on to his internet because I'd already been to Starbucks twice that day and I had been getting the feeling that the baristas were sick of me. I gave him strict directions to sign me up for this new CLEAR internet service and order me a modem. This was clearly a desperate call for help. Dad is naturally alarmed and asks "Why?" I respond, "Because I need to write my blog." Dad asks in a confused voice "A blog? What about getting a new job?" I say, "Dad the blog is going to get me a new job." End of story. My father has learned by now not to ask me too many questions because he is not usually prepared for my answers. He understands my addictive behaviors.

My modem arrived today via Fed-Ex. We're in business people. All I owe now is $140 to dear Dad for signing me up and it's all mine! I am now connected 24/7, from my comfy couch, sitting next to my comfy dog, watching Sex and the City reruns or Celebrity Rehab while I blog like woah. Life is good.

So that's the story and I'm sticking to it. I'm crazy, addicted and can feel tiny literary wings on my fingers as I type. It's fabulous.

Here's to blogging. Here's to hoping you relate or atleast get a good laugh or cry about the sh*t I write. Here's to you if you actually care enough to read. You rock.

Last but not least, here's to addiction and the rest of you who know what it really feels like.