Once more with feeling.

I believe everyone is in possession of some obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Some worse than others. Some padded cell worse than others. I'm not sure where on the severity scale mine fall, but I do know that they all seem to come out through my blog. The name, the appearance, the posts themselves. It's something that's gotten progressively worse the longer I blog.

It's the reason for all the moves, all the changes. It's the reason I quit blogging. It's the reason I decided to not quit blogging. It's the reason I decided to start over. Hence the deletion of all content. (Yes. Deleted.) It's pretty much the cause of of all my angst. Okay, not all (I have a lot), but most. I've let what was supposed to be fun completely ruin my life. (And apparently cause me to be completely over-dramatic.)

So, I'm starting over. This is post one. This is me throwing caution to the wind. This is me holding both middle fingers up in the air with a sneer to rival Johnny Cash and saying "fuck you, world!" Although I'm not sure why it calls for the double-finger salute. Or the F word. But trust me. It does.

I want to have fun blogging like I did when I first started. I want to not care if my posts are perfect (which they're not) or if people will love them (which they may or may not). I just want to have fun. (And be repetitive at will.) (And abuse parenthesis.)

This is the one and only time I'm going to talk about blogging. As soon as I hit publish, I'm letting go of all the angst. (Well, not all. I live at home with my folks after all.) I'm going to loosen up, have fun, and just write. Silly stuff. Serious stuff. Stuff about books (of which I read dirty nasty ones) and weight loss (of which I need to participate) and whatever else strikes my fancy (of which I'm not even sure what a "fancy" is).

I'm going to take my own advice and Just. Fucking. Relax. And maybe pop a Xanax to help me do so.