Verbal Vomit

There are so many words in my stomach right now. They’ve been writing and twisting around and inside each other for so long now that I think they’ve just become one huge, pulsating mass. (I’m sorry, is this getting graphic?) I just have so much to say, and no where I can say it – not even here, and (dare I say it?) I’m beginning to miss my anonymity.
You know, that’s why this blog happened … so that I could go back into this world of anonymity and stop having my name attached to everything I had to say (I used to be a prolific Facebook Note-writer). Only then I started trusting myself more, trusting other people more, trusting them not to think I was crazy or stupid or emotional or verbose about every silly thing I wanted to talk about, and so I invited them to this blog, and it has become a beautiful thing. I love that there are people who actually read what I have to say. Granted, there aren’t many of you. But I like it just the same. :)
And yet, there’s a bit of a problemo. You see, saying goodbye to anonymity, making my blog available to any wandering eye, not having an iron gate and a guard that only lets selected viewers in … that means I have to be careful about what I say, because I don’t know who is going to read it. And worse, sometimes I do know who is going to read it, and so then I know for sure I can’t write it because you just don’t tell all things to all people. Not all at the same time, at least, and not in the same way.
The same thing seems to have happened to every social networking/blogging thing that I’ve become a part of, and I’m caught in this little Bermuda triangle of wanting to say some things to some people, wanting to make sure other people don’t hear those things, and having this bizarre need to have this all be broadcast out into universe. I might give up on that last part and just write in my journal about it, only here’s the thing: I don’t necessarily want my progeny reading some of this crap. I am blocked on all sides here. Can someone help me out?
Where is that dumpster in the alleyway that I used to be able to barf my guts into? You know, the one that was private, but not too private, and if someone wanted to go look at it, it was their choice and like, ya know, whatever … but nobody you didn’t want to be checking out your Technicolor yawn would be? I kinda miss that.
I suppose the easiest solution would be to simply let go of all the things that are causing the turmoil that has been making me want to deliver a sidewalk pizza like, every single hour of every day for the past week. We’re talking big time thunder-chunder rainbow parfait, splashin’ the hash, lateral cookie toss … I mean it’s ridiculous.
You know what would solve this problem? If people would just say what they think, and what they mean. Because if everyone else was doing it, then I could be doing it, and it wouldn’t be building up inside me like a psychedelic stomach shuttle just waiting for lift-off.
(Side note: I’ve just realized how many times I make reference to vomit on this blog (and based on that fact, probably also in real life) and so I’m considering renaming the blog “Finding the Center of Your Porcelain Chakra” or something … gosh I’m gross sometimes.)