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Spazzy Brain Hemorages

So, I have this insane need to make sure that people out in the world know about my significantly meaningless opinions. I’m well aware of it. I have a problem. Is there a 12-step program for mindless egoism?

I hope not.



So, it’s December. That’s a big thing around bloggy types in my bloggy circle. You might have noticed that we do this Reverb thing. It’s a series of prompts about ourselves, our year, our lives. You know, the kind of thing that we pretty regularly write about anyway. It’s self-indulgent, but, it can also be healthy. I don’t want to spend too much time ragging on it because, in all honestly, my first year of participation helped me get through some pretty huge emotional breakthroughs.

But, all good things in moderation, right?

I think one of the reasons that I’ve been quiet on the blog, beside spending most of my writing time working on a book, is that I don’t really know that I’m doing anything of value here.

Now, hang on, don’t get me wrong. I draw a great deal of pleasure from writing blog posts. I get a sense of nervous satisfaction from hitting the publish button and hiding for a few hours while my words go out into the world and swirl around with the handful of friends and family that enjoy reading my gibberish. I get a sense of accomplishment out of it.

Is it a real accomplishment, though?

Once upon a time, I had this idea that I could use a blog as a soap-box and improve the world. I don’t actually know how to do that because what the crap do I know about saving the world?

I use to think that I could just keep writing and would eventually figure everything out. I’ve written a little about that in the past, too. I’ve learned some things over the years, mostly about myself, and a little about the world. It’s a maturity thing, maybe. Maybe it’s just more self-indulgence.

I just don’t know.

So, I’m trying to be reflective and wise or something, and that’s just not me. I’m not that guy, and I think you know that.

So, fart joke.

Yeah… that’s the good stuff.

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.