They're all going to laugh at me..

I would create a whole blog site in dedication to my worries but someone already beat me to it. Check it out here, The Worry Blog. It is pure genius if you ask me. Okay, to be honest with you, I really suffer from paranoia. I hate using that word because it has negative connotations. See! I'm already showing myself. My worries are like that concept of dreams in that movie "Inception"...a worry within another worry concerning a fear that caused me to be paranoid about what I worry about. Whew! Confused yet? The complexity of it all makes it hard for me to keep up with what worries me. Yes, there have been times I walked right into a situation because I totally forgot the items on my worry laundry list. Eek! To worry or to be paranoid really just spells out that ugly four letter word, fear.

A portion of my ongoing rapidly revised worry laundry list:

(just the things I'm willing to share here on this blog because I'm paranoid about how this information will be used against me...in no particular order)

I worry about/over...

money, the need for it, tax return money already spent, did I forget to pay AT&T, why is my blackberry so silent..whoops;

my kids, how they see me, how a single wrong move on my part can scar them for life causing them to spiral into bankruptcy due to the therapy bills that will put a dent in their credit like they will leave psychiatrist's couches;

the end of the world, Jesus' second coming, will I be left behind, the lack of explanation for those dying birds in several states, was that a sign, what will be my afterlife destination;

the stretch marks that plague my midsection, are my feet growing..I used to be a size 9;

the grammar and spelling in this blog I'm typing, let me open up dictionary.com, am I kidding myself thinking I can be a writer;

what is my boo thinking, where is he, why is he so quiet, why is he so attentive, why is he being so nice, will my boo catch on to my true new found Gemini existence and leave me hanging, did he hear me break wind (oh, the horror!);

is my mom proud of me, did I make the right decision by moving, when will she get sick of me;

am I a good friend, how many people have my facebook statuses hidden, am I annoying to others;

yeah, what's wrong with those exes anyway..did they leave me because something is wrong with me, is the answer hidden in this bloggie, can people see me, truly; O_O

my bedroom skills, am I really sitting on that good good chicks brag about, does my punani have the ability to grip properly, is there muscle under this double stomach fat, how do my side spare tire love handles look from behind, are they here to stay;

is my hair ever going to grow longer than this, is my hair thinning, how many hairs does the average person shed a day, should I start counting my hairs to make sure I'm not going over the daily quota;

silence, noise, an abundance of words, not being able to find the right words;

things going wrong, things going right, love, hate;

winning, losing;

stagnancy, are they watching me at my job, do they read my blog, will I ever be able to move on from this dead end job or should I go ahead and accept the fact that I will be here until retirement, will I be that annoying old person in the workplace, the butt of the old folk jokes...you know the ones where they end in.. "she knows she needs to take her old ass home"..

If I go any further you will see that I need meds...lol Like this list above isn't ample enough proof that I need to be committed, placed in a drug induced coma until this here life is all over.

What? Why y'all looking at this bloggie like that? You think I'm crazy or something?

You think this is easy.. okay, I dare you to write a blog about what worries you. I mean, you have worries too? don't you?