I just spent the morning unpacking indoor Christmas tree items, low-key freaking out because I couldn’t find the lights for said tree, then wandering off to spend four hours bleaching my own hair again (yes, I’m back on my self-reliant bullshit).
So now it’s nearly 3pm and feel like I haven’t ‘accomplished’ much, yet have been up since six am doing this or that.
Welcome to adulting, where a load in the dishwasher feels like a win. (Mind out of the gutter, you dick).
Anyway. Whilst doing my hair, I’ve been thinking about why the fuck I’m always so keen to ‘overshare’ — why I feel compelled to give context and additional information and why the fuck it always seems as though everyone is drinking from a firehose with me and my information.
I internalized GI Joe, probably, with his ‘information is power’… but for me and my brain, it is. So many things (everything) all seem like they’re need-to-know for my personal processes, while simultaneously, we’re all more than aware that I’m fully capa…