Cap'n T.M.I.

I have friends who are very stoic, friends who don't like to complain; friends who could be set on fire while being attacked by a swarm of killer bees and rabid squirrels all while suffering from an intense bout of food poisoning and still not say anything to anyone because they don't want folks to worry about them.

It should be only too obvious to you blog monkeys by now that this is not a trait I share.

I try to keep my problems to myself; really I do. But I find myself overwhelmed by this strange compulsion to share all the minutia of my life with others and, all too often, the minutia that's most pressing on my mind is whatever problem (major or minor (usually minor)) is afflicting me at the moment. Sometimes this is a way of working through the problem, especially those problems which keep me up all night with my mind racing; those are the ones that I have to share with someone else in order to get them out of my head. Flunky has probably been the target of these sorts of conversations more often than anyone outside of my parents, although there are others who have found themselves drafted into service to my neuroses (Dr. G’ovich, Papa Lightbulb, and iamam to name a few) ; PigPen is the most recent addition to the list, and I’m sure by this point he’s desperate to figure out how to get removed from it.

I think that sometimes I wind up blurting things out as result of the fact that I can't stand to sit in silence with someone; my neurotic brain always goes to the worst possible scenario, wondering why they aren't talking to me, wondering if I have done something to tick them off, wondering if there's anything I can do to test the waters and find out just how bad I've screwed things up this time without realizing it, I know, I'll tell them all about the nasty papercut I got at work while opening up the mail, that'll be sure to break the ice, oh, no, they're looking at me like I'm some lunatic, retreat, retreat!

Or, y'know, something like that.

Of course, sharing my woes isn't the only way that I overwhelm friends and family with meaningless trivia about my day to day existence. There's also the usual "here's an amusing anecdote" style conversation, which never seems to be as amusing to others as it is to me; don't know whether I should blame that more on a difference in opinion of what is and isn't "interesting," or on my lackluster verbal storytelling skills. I mean, it's always a bad sign when the people you're trying to regale with stories try to have a conversation over you or are too busy screaming at the TV to pay any attention to what you’re saying, right? I thought so.

I also have a tendency to tell on myself when I do something I feel guilty about; did it as a little kid, did it in college, do it still today. When other people try to guilt trip me, I get stubborn and dig in my heels; when I guilt trip myself, I give in every time.

And then, of course, there is the way I can't keep from telling embarrassing stories about myself; whenever I do something potentially mentally scarring, I always tell myself that I'm not going to tell anybody, but it's never too long before the need to overshare wins out and I'm telling everyone I meet about my latest blunder. Since the advent of CoIM, many of these embarrassing moments have been immortalized online for the enjoyment of generations to come -- since I'm frequently accused of writing embarrassing things about others while painting myself in a positive light, I figure that relating some of my less than shining moments should be enough to mollify those who feel like they've been unfairly singled out for mockery.

In keeping with this, I have to say that I am currently sitting on two highly embarrassing and humiliating moments from this past week, both of which started with me trying to engage in some physical activity (one which harkens back to my recent violent streak and one which didn’t), and which both ended with me, flat on my face, showered with pain and humiliation. I really hadn't wanted to share either one with anyone, but I should have known that was a futile desire; the first one was spread quickly by PigPen, sole witness* to the event, who found my humiliation too entertaining not to share with one and all, which has caused me to threaten to retract several of my positive comments about him, but it’s a hollow threat, and he knows it. Meanwhile, the second bout of humiliation has had a lasting after-effect which has pushed it from "embarrassing moment" to "current problem" status, and is thus much more difficult for me to keep from blabbing to one and all. Subsequently, these stories have been spread to a few select individuals, but I have so far managed to suppress the desire to post them to the blog for one and all to see. But I'm sure it's only a matter of time before my willpower fails me.

*For the record: while PigPen holds some culpability in the scenario, I freely admit that I brought it all upon myself, and was the one most directly responsible for my own discomfort and shame.