the Internet is for...

Isn't it a wonderful worldwide web? It's certainly assisted in my being.

I'm over-analytical. Which is why I love books and movies and television. They provide me with an outlet, in which to let loose the critically-thinking-killer part of me that breaks its victim into a million little pieces... and that's no lie. It's not a bad thing. Thinking is quite necessary, I've found. But anything can kill you if you take/do enough of it. With reading and watching, my spill-over thinking had an impersonal place to settle.

I'm insecure. Which doesn't lend itself to my being over-analytical. I think some things sometimes. And I don't know if they're right.

I'm competitive. Which doesn’t go well with my being insecure. (Show; don't tell.) The last time I played basketball with my father, he was beating me in our cinder block -- also called a breeze block, concrete block, or Concrete Masonry Unit (CMU), according to Wikipedia.org – lined driveway. Game point, loser’s out: I nervously handled the ball at the top of the key. My dad stole it and took off to lay-up the winning basket. Right before his release, I body-checked him off of the driveway. The basket was good. He got up off of the CMU with blood streaming down his leg. Before stalking into the house, he said, “We’re never playing basketball, again.” I threw the ball into the woods and beat him into the house.

The Internet lets me reconcile these three traits. (Well, reconcile or deny them; I’m not sure which one yet.) My being over-analytical is indulged with all the information, opinions, and bullshit floating around. (Or it’s stifled by it because I no longer need to develop my own opinions and bullshit.) My being insecure is alleviated because I can prove I’m right with a simple click of the mouse. (Or it’s aggravated by it because I need to check and re-check and cross-check… just to make sure and because I can.) Which appeases my being competitive, too. (Or inflames it.)

Then, the Internet gives me the chance to desperately talk about myself while maintaining some illusion of privacy, without having to deal with a shrink.