The Creature Salon

I had a very strange sensation today. I've been emailing back and forth with Bob. (Yes, there really is a Bob. No god. But there is Bob.) I was apologizing for opening my trap about things and people I don't know a damned thing about. I was afraid I'd been hurtful which is the last thing I want to be. I've always taken as a given that I'm a nice guy. You see Bob is a nice guy. Bob is a good guy. They should all be so good! Kinahora!

I'm not so sure I'm the person I always thought I was. No, that's not right either. I was that person while living as Fran no.1. I was nice. And empathetic. And loving. But after surviving beri beri, all the spigots opened... (No, not as I described in a post where each and every orifice of my body spewed out every last bit of everything that normally comes out each and every orifice of my body just little bits at a time as opposed to all at once.)

Yes the emotional spigots opened as Fran no. 2 emerged as The Creature from the Chrysalis! "Run, run for your lives! It's the The Creature, mad as a fucking hatter! Now! Before it's too late!" (In my head I see Godzilla trashing some Japanese town with the populace screaming at the top of their collective lungs trying to outrun the monster. Or giant Barbra Streisand robot/T-rex destroying everything in her path in South Park. Until they figure out the only thing that will stop her. A duet with Neil Diamond. Done. The world is once again safe from Babs.) Hiya, everybody! I'm here!

Or better yet, when I lost all restraint and started writing about orifices, vomit, and how I love maps. In no particular order. This part of Fran no.2, aka The Creature from the Chrysalis, I like a lot. There is nothing holding me back, oh boy. But I don't think I'm nice anymore. This, I don't like so much. I just spew without much thought as to the harm it can do. That's why this blog is never about my dealings with others (except my family- they're tough- they can take it) with people. I don't have any desire to hurt anyone.

I may have done exactly that. That bites. Very politely I've been told I have strong opinions. I guess I do. When I was younger I was always afraid to voice them and didn't have much of an opportunity as the wee one in a family of fairly interesting conversationalists. (See yesterday's qvetch.)

I don't want my excessive freedom to turn me into an asshole. I was hoping it would make me more charming since I have so many scintillating bon mots to share with humanity. The Creature Salon. I can dig it. If only it were so. Wouldn't it be a total drag to finally be able express yourself and find that you're a total bore?