school's (not) out forever

I subscribe to a lot of blogs and podcasts. To the point where it is actually becoming overwhelming. I subscribe to science blogs, social work blogs, psych blogs, New York Times most emailed articles, friends' blogs and Jezebel. I also recently added a job search thing to my google reader which adds about 30 new posts a day. This adds up to hundreds of new blog posts a day and I don't even know what to do about it anymore. I used to subscribe to Google news but found that I was skipping through a lot of them just because of the enormity of information. Unfortunately, my deletion of culturally relevant blogs may be a contributing factor to my ignorance about anything current or significant. And it kills me to delete my blogs or podcasts. I used to listen to Slate's weekly podcast about the weekly political issues. I liked it because it was a good way for me to get updated on current events and also listen to some commentary. It was short, succinct and perfect for a commute. But there was also a lot of banter among the three hosts and it got really tiresome. They would get off track, make fun of each other and generally irritate me. I went through a weeks long process of debating whether or not I would unsubscribe from the podcast. Literally weeks where I would sit, waiting for the subway, listening to inanity about whether one of the hosts was too negative or whatever and I would have a long debate with myself about the value of wasting 45 minutes a week on the podcast. I ended up deleting it and I felt a pang of guilt as I did. It's really hard for me.

Jezebel is by far my favorite blog, but often times it reminds me too much of high school. It brings out all of my insecurities. I desperately want to be a part of this group that I think is so {funny, smart, cool, above-it-all, etc.} but I don't think that I am {insert adjective} enough to fit in. So I sit on the sidelines, laugh along at the jokes and tell myself that it's just because I have a life that I am not available to immediately comment on every post. That wasn't true in high school and it isn't true now.
Jezebel had a post today about that german sex book that has everyone all riled up and one of the editors posted a translation of part of it. It was about this girl who has hemorrhoids and how she doesn't get them removed because the only reason someone would get them removed is for aesthetics. The protagonist also writes about having anal sex while having hemorrhoids, which she describes as cauliflower. This prompted a google search for hemorrhoids, since I don't know anything about them AND because I love things that are disgusting. I love to do a youtube search on cysts, morgellons, the tree man and tumors. I can't help it. It's so gross and I love it.
It also got me thinking about the poor cauliflower, which I think is particularly delicious with a little sauce made of mustard and mayonnaise and with cheese broiled on top. But the cauliflower gets compared to everything disgusting that a human can get. Warts? Cauliflowered. 'Roids? Cauliflowered. You've got your cauliflower ear and a yeast infection looks like cauliflower.
So I thought, maybe I will write a comment about the poor cauliflower and disease comparisons and also my mystification regarding why anyone would have anal sex when they have hemorrhoids because it seems quite painful aside from the visual disturbance for the batter.
Turns out, Jezebel has all these rules for posting comments and you have to get approved ahead of time. The way to get approved is by writing a comment that they deem worthy of Jezebel and then they post it and you can post forever.
Which brings us back to my insecurities. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself up for the scrutiny of the clique. It's just like that time in English class when I wrote a story about mean kids, because I happened to sit in this corner where all of the asshole guys sat and they would just talk shit about people all through class. (I'm sure they're all really successful now, btw). My teacher asked me to read it and I wouldn't do it and he gave me this fixed look and said "Caitlin, I think it's really important that you read this". So then everyone is looking at me and the last thing I want is for these guys who were sitting in my corner to know what I had written. And I might have cried a little.
So maybe my observation that it would probably hurt to have up-the-bum sex when you have a mass of veins protruding from your ass probably wouldn't subject me to later criticism from little boys driving big trucks bought with their daddy's timber money, but it doesn't matter. I am actually back in high school, writing journal entries about my inability to fit in, laughing too hard at the wrong jokes and having crushes on all of the boys who are now gay.
Ugh.
I am going to go to my room, eat a bag of chocolate, hide it under my bed and self-injure.