The Truman delusion?

There’s a new delusion on the block, oh goody.  Another form of mental illness I can sympathize with and not actually, you know, catch.

From the time I was little I had no interest in being famous. I watched what famous people went through and thought, that’s just nuts!  No privacy, and then at the end there’s nobody to pay attention to you.  Yuck!  I gave up waiting to be discovered (the psychological failing when you wish that you will be magically conveyed to a land of money and prestige without actually doing anything) in my early thirties, when I got a letter from a relative outlining how she was going to wish her way out of her current situation and I realized “holy crap, that’s me!”.  Now I’m posting stuff on youtube, not because I have some belief that I will magically become rich and famous, but because people ask me too, and it’s fun, and most of the people who see it think it’s cute or funny or useful or bizarre. In fact, cute, funny, useful or bizarre is kinda the focus of this blog, when I’m not whining about something or other.  I have this overwhelming urge, today, to sing the Slimfast and Methadone song into the all seeing eye of Youtube.  I should put that mental aberration aside and just go practice some more.

Still don’t know all the chord forms for Happy Feet.  Sheesh, it’s hard!  Fingees stingee.

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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