I'm reading the posts that were read at BlogHer '08 (since I'm nowhere near there, but am at home watching The Phantom of the Opera, for some reason I'm not fully clear on) and it's reminding me of about a billion things I've never said here that seem somewhat important. And then I hear a buzzing in my head over the fighting of which thing seems most important to post first (which, sadly, drowns out the pretty music coming from the TV).
I guess the thing that seems most important is the fact that I fight my fears that I could ever be even remotely like my mother. And that I avoid thinking about my past, because it feels like an ugly mass of scar tissue. And I don't know how to remove the ugly parts from the pretty ones (there are, obviously, good times sprinkled in with the bad). I avoid thinking about why most people, the ones who I know love me the most, are pushing me to even think about restoring contact with someone who has hurt me so much, while complete strangers (and some people who care about me) are happy to let me make my own choices. How is it that these loved ones don't see that their pushing hurts just as much as those memories I try to avoid? That while I look whole, there is really a piece that doesn't work like it should? That to stop hurting and cringing about my phone ringing, I cut off contact with the person who caused the pain in the first place?
I also am thinking about the fact that I sometimes avoid technology. It's not because I'm afraid of technology, but because I don't want to give myself something else that I can hardly drag myself away from. I avoided joining MySpace for so long that I think I was the only one under 30 who didn't have an account. I don't really feel the need to have others judge whether or not I was worthy of being their friend online, I feel funny enough about that in real life (blogging, on the other hand, doesn't bother me at all). I'm avoiding joining Twitter, because I let other people's blogs take up enough of my day without adding their twitters to the process too.
And those things, which are now content to relax since they've been let out, are what I heard buzzing in my head. I'll try not to wait so long to express myself next time, because I don't particularly care for the sound.