There is so much going on in my life right now. There are so many new things: new possibilities, new people, new sites, new sounds, new ways of making money, new ways of keeping quiet, new friends, new adventures, new toys. There are new bits of everything. And these bits of everything are beating the inside of my head one at a time like hundreds of little paddle balls tied to pieces of brain matter.

There are the obvious bigger balls, like the fact that we moved to California, or that I started a new job. And for the most part, once these balls hit the inside of my head, I just let them squish on thru to the other side, straight into the oncoming path of any unfortunate person within earshot. I can talk with these balls, they are my seeds to conversation. Whether they take, well, that’s up to the other person.

It’s all those other paddleballs, the smaller, more refined ones. These are the little bastards driving me totally bonkers. I can’t say WHO is coming and when and WHY he or she is coming. I can’t take pictures of them and put them all over the Internet. I CAN’T DO THESE THINGS. So these balls, they keep bouncing from one end of the inside of my head to the other—back and forth, back and forth.

When it comes to myself, I have never been one to hold much in. The time I was in 2nd grade gym class and had to puke, I told everyone I was going to do it first. I told everyone about the time I fell drunk from the roof, and that I bounced along a tree and hit every branch along the way. No one saw, I could have said I got the scars in �Nam. I have come out of my heavy metal, hippy closet many times and mentioned having actually liked both Iron Maiden and Cinderella at the same time. And I told people about the time this pale redhead covered herself in CRISCO (did you just see that word, I said �CRISCO�) desperately in search of a summer tan so she could be as brown and sugary as her 13-year-old girlfriends. And she may have burned herself so badly, her feet and ankles swelled up to the size of her thighs. Let’s see, I peed my pants long past the pee your pants passable timeframe. I made out with Caryn’s boyfriend while she was away for the weekend. (She was my best friend at the time. She had a better tan). I once cried in front of the entire choir class after being told to sing solo. I have smoked banana leaves. I once believed these two popular girls at school who told me that if I were to lie on ground and wave my arms around like some kind of moron, angels would come talk to me.

When it comes to me, it�s no balls barred. I just can’t keep anything in. Nothing. In fact, I can safely say that there is not one thing I have EVER done, stupid or not, that someone out there doesn’t know about.

I am secretless.

So it’s safe to say that the past few weeks have been killing me. Why? Because I can’t write about what I really want to write about, which is writing about everything that I SEE every day while working here and living there and not saying anything about nothing here or there. So, I am growing these terrible little balls called secrets. And I feel very much as though I woke up wearing someone else’s life. And instead of feeling weird about it, I sit anxiously waiting to be switched back so I can start talking about her.

Today, (without saying much at all) I airbrushed and cloned stuff in Photoshop I never would have dreamed about airbrushing let alone BEING PAID TO DO IT. And while I was doing as much, all I wanted to do was scream:

DO YOU SEE WHAT I’M DOING AT MY DESK ON THIS COMPUTER? RIGHT NOW? DO YOU SEE THIS?!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PEOPLE, LAUGH! THIS SHIT IS FUNNY!

But I don’t speak and no one laughs. And the paddleballs stay inside, gaining more and more momentum, inbreeding.

And obviously judging by the birth of this post, I�m growing another head.