What's My Deal?

Could the thing that is wrong with me quite possibly be that while everyone else is gathering their thoughts together and deciding how they can improve in 2013 I am posting a video about  a Siberian woman (with a very lovely makeup job and headpiece fit for a bride) who houses a billion stray cats which should never be confused with postage stamps and feeds them like chickens?  Which then leads me to a video about a guy who stuck over 2000 toothpicks in his musty beard?  Why does this kill me?  Why do I like to be killed?  Could that possibly be what my deal is?  That I like to be killed?

I mean really.

What's my deal? 

I wander through my simple life.  I observe.   Then I ponder.  Then I take the observations and twist them all around with pondering so I can kill myself.  Then I write it on here.  Then I check for comments.The formula is simple, people.  But the overtones are killer.  The wrong kind of killer.

I'm telling you right here, and right now, this is the oddest behavior I know.  I'm observing it right now and I'm killing myself  because I can't help but ask myself:  Is my observing and then pondering and then writing and then waiting, really another person's 1000's of stay cats or toothpicky beards?  Is that my deal?  Am I a circus freak and I don't know it?  Am I a circus freak to a circus freak?  Because, if you think about it, a circus freak has to have people of their own that they observe and ponder and write about that are odd enough to classify as their own personal circus freak despite the fact that they OWN the definition of circus freak.  And I really wanted to put an exclamation point on that  last sentence but I was afraid that I might seem too freaky for even a freak of a circus freak.

So Yeah.  I think THAT'S my deal. 

And I'm just going to have to live with it.

Because (and I am ashamed to admit this) if I set another goal to try and use my time wisely in 2013  I just might die but I won't be killed if you know what I mean.