This month, Tobyjoe and I have decided to mail out two books. We announced the names this morning. If you’re interested in joining us, you don’t have to receive a book in order to do so.
This month, we chose one non-fictional book and one fictional book.
We’re trying to jumpstart the site a little bit. Spread has readers but there isn’t much in the way of discussion. And we’re not sure why and how to change that. We talked about it (and my idealistic concepts) this weekend. There’s a pretty big chance that I have one too much personal projects going on and not enough love and time to devote to all of them. I have a tendency to do that. I have done this for my entire life. (It’s not just an Internet thing. Try spending any extended amount of time with me, you’ll eventually ask me to shut up and/or leave.)
The biggest problem I have is that my ideas, once brought to life, don’t always live up to the fantasies I had while coming up with them. And then I become discouraged. (Let’s just say wihtout going into glorious detail, that I have some issues with trying to relax. This weekend, it became pretty clear that if I don’t work these issues out soon, there’s a chance I might go completely mad. We talked about that as well. If there were one person who could benefit from visiting a shrink, it’d be me. But I can’t seem to sit still long enough to get that done either.)
Sometimes, I spend some time trying to picture me from the point of view of another person. On those days, I rarely paint a very attractive picture of myself. On the days where I don’t feel totally manic, fueled with inspiration and determination and therefore am able to ignore it, I see myself as flakey. I see myself as someone unable to see anything through to its end. I see myself as unreliable, confusing, sporadic, and delusional. I don’t like that me very much and I can’t seem to change her. And when I have the energy to do so, instead of doing so, I come up with new ideas and projects.
It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to see where this is going. It’s never-ending. Worst of all, and I’m only now just starting to realize this, living this way guarantees endless frustration and little to no rest.
I fear that I will never get to know rest. And I need to either come to terms with that fact, embrace the American way and start taking head meds (which I, personally, do not want to do), or self medicate with a bottle (which is worse than taking head meds).
I have no idea what it feels like to relax. I don’t think I’ve ever known what it feels like to relax.
Somehow, I have veered off track. I started this as an announcement about Spread and ended up talking about myself. (Woe is me, blah blah blah blah blog vomit, blog vomit, blog vomit. blah blah blah. typical me me blog vomit. blahg vomit.)
Mihow 
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