Sunday, April 25, 2010
Don't Quit Your Day Job
Someone recently asked me if I was talking to someone about everything that’s going on. I presume he meant a therapist, but it was a little awkward and I didn’t particularly want to prolong the conversation to seek clarification. I don’t think he’s reading my blog. Otherwise, he might know that while I do not physically go somewhere (anymore) to sit on a sofa and talk to a live person, my blog is my therapy, and you – reader – my therapist. I find this relationship far more therapeutic than talking to a real person for several reasons.
1. I don’t have to stress about showing up late. You patiently await my next post, and I don’t have to apologize or make excuses if I go more than a week between visits.
2. I don’t have to sit in a creepy waiting room, awkwardly averting my eyes whenever someone new enters and occupies one of the dingy chairs. The more you try not to look at the other patients, the more you discover what can happen when you don’t take advantage of the wand feature on the vacuum to thoroughly clean the corners of a room.
3. Writing a blog is free, so I thank you for your complimentary services. Those who conduct therapy sessions for a living don’t tend to offer their time gratis…even though most don’t actually DO anything during said time except jot occasional notes and appear pensive.
4. And perhaps the greatest advantage of this “cyber-therapy” is I can enjoy a nice glass of Cabernet while working through my thoughts on my blog, and you, therapist, are none the wiser. At least until now. I think it’s fair to say that a traditional therapist would not look kindly on me bringing booze to our appointments. In fact, that might be grounds for evaluation of a different sort.
So until I run out of material and start pontificating on really mundane things like grocery shopping or sitting in traffic, I hope I won’t need to compensate you for your services. That’s not to say I don’t value your readership and occasional commentary immensely – but rather is a nod to the hope that I won’t need you forever. Please continue to provide your therapeutic services for the many months ahead. Just don’t quit your day job because this time next year, I might be out jogging or dating or travelling the world rather than sitting quietly in front of my computer.