"I'm going to write a great entry today. Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!"

So, yeah. I don't write in here nearly enough anymore. It's a vicious cycle. I write, and then I wonder if it's crap. I promise myself I won't write again till I can do something better. Of course, I never do, and eventually, enough time passes that I force myself to write another crappy entry because it's better than nothing.

Feh. I know I'm causing most of the problem myself. Once again, that damn audience has me all self-conscious. It really was so much simpler when they were imaginary.

I got three different responses to my journal this weekend. They were all positive. But they all messed with my head.

Tau 1: So, how much of a pain in the ass were we tonight?

Ana's Brain: Ok, he's been reading my archives. That's cool. I wonder if he's looked at the recent stuff at all.

Tau 2: Is that really what tripping is like?

Ana's Brain: Ok, he's been reading the recent stuff. That's cool. I wonder if he's looked at the archives at all.

Tau 3: I've been reading your journal. You are so cool!

Ana's Brain: Goddammit! Of course I'm cool! Everyone says I'm cool! It's not enough, though. I need more. I need dates, people! When exactly, did I amuse you? Is it every day? Did you start in the archives, or in the present??

I think what it comes to, is I need almost constant reassurance. I'm going to have to ask all of you to write to me daily:

"Dear Ana,

You (still) kick ass. I worship you. I burst into tears every single time you leave the room. I'm not just saying that because you told me to. You are the best. You are the best. You are the best. You are the best. You are the best."

Of course, that kind of treatment would make me just plain insufferable. My ego is ten miles wide when it gets any encouragement at all. I know that's bad, and I do in fact feel a little dirty, linking to myself all the hell over the place. "Me! Me, me, me! ME! Memememe mememe! Meeeeee!"

***

Hmm. I think what it comes to, is I really do like hearing how amazing and wonderful and clever I am. But I know I shouldn't like it quite that much.

When I get a compliment, I have to make an effort to restrain myself from asking this poor person being nice to me a dozen more questions about myself.

Tell me more, tell me more.

Did you read very far?

Tell me more, tell me more.

How bout the one with my car?

Ana's journal, always such fun

Ana's journal, her mind's on the run

TMBG saves her each day

Then there's Red Dwarf, what else can she say?

She's a freak and sometimes a geek but oh oh the journaling nights

Tell me more, tell me more

Was it love at first sight?

Tell me more, tell me more

Did you read me all night?

***

Yeah. Something like that. I'm now imagining a whole dance number. John Travolta, starring in Battlefield DiaryLand. No, wait. That's not it. I think I need to go away now.

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