She Was A Good Blog. She Always Tried Her Best And Never Ate Too Much...

I think it's pretty obvious that Betsey Booms has been dying a slow death for a while now.

She's sickly and inhibited. She coughs even on her best days. She has a swagger, but it is eerily similar to Val Kilmer's in Tombstone. I said it was time for some changes and one of those changes seems to be location, location, location.

When I was younger and untethered to the big people responsibilities that make up life, I used to just pick up and move when I felt the urge. The urge to spread my wings, to run through the field, dragging a technicolor kite behind me.

I'd pack up my paltry belongings and throw them in the back of my car and go. I'd quit my job and get a new one, because I could wait tables or sell beauty products anywhere.

I'd change my hair color to some other place in the spectrum that is the rainbow that I hadn't yet explored and I'd start fresh and breathe.

Just breathe.

Lately? I can't breathe. I just can't breathe. I try, I make the motions of the breath and I pull the air in and it's just jagged, sharp and not right.

I've been told this could be a move that rates high on a scale of 1 to stupid. And I think it's a risk I'm willing to take.

My question is, do you want to go with me or do you want to hang out here?

You can hang out here. But I've got to go. I've got to go splash some bright paint on some white walls. I've got to go ponder which wall my second hand couch would look just right on.

I've got to go and see how loud the neighbors in another building are. Do they party? Do they stomp? Do they smoke pot that will waft down through the vents when I'm trying to sleep or read quietly to myself?

Will there be hobo's that will dig in my trash? Should I leave little treats for the hobos, in clean bags that are tied at the top with brightly colored post-it notes letting them know the good stuff is in that bag?

Because I do that, you know. Only you wouldn't, because I haven't told you.

I leave goody bags for hobos.

That is who I am. Do you know this?

What will happen to BoomTube? Well,I think she might stay. I'm pretty sure you will still be able to tune in there. Because there? On BoomTube, I can talk and smile and laugh and I'm fine with you seeing it. Those of you who look but don't speak. I'm okay with you seeing me.

Here? Not so much. My co-worker knows where my blog is and that doesn't bother me, so much as those of you that I can see reading and not saying anything. Because I can you know, see you. How long you spend, what you read, how long you hang around.

It sort of feels like I'm locked in my bathroom. You know I'm crying, I know you know I'm crying... But we're both too embarrassed to say anything. But still you hang, in my living room, with a cocktail... Just waiting to see my mood change.

Some days I smile, a lot. Some days I cry, a lot. Some days, I do neither but think of weirdly fantastic things in my head.

So it's time. I'll still Twitter as Betsey. I'll still BoomTube you. Jason will still play records for you.

I just have to write somewhere else.

If you would like to email me, to find out where I am. Then please do, BetseyBooms@gmail.com. But if I don't tell you, don't be hurt. I can't imagine that I won't tell most of you.

Or maybe I won't.

We'll see.