My immune system has been curiously resilient the past several months. When I first moved here, I got sick every six to eight weeks, like clockwork. I was constantly sick. Granted, working with dirty kids is a red flag for anybody who hates germs, but I also think that being in a completely different climate than Southern California really took my respiratory system for a ride. Things leveled out earlier this Spring, and I don't think I've been "sick" since Winter (except for that pleasant second stomach bug I had -- yes, two stomach bugs within six months).

I think my luck might be running out because I have been waking up with a dry throat for the past several days. I'm also feeling lethargic and cold a lot. I am attempting a mind-over-matter scenario where I acknowledge the fact that I have been exposed to a few viruses, but I will not be defeated by them. So I'm putting cinnamon on everything (oatmeal, tortilla chips, drinks, etc.) to hopefully break up with this sickness before it asks my dad for my hand in marriage.

Why do I tell the Internet this? I am going to a cheese party later tonight with some females and I'm excited / nervous. Why would I be nervous? Because for the past several years I have turned into a hermit who has a social anxiety disorder. Or many of them.

I’ve been really conscious about how often I’ve used social media lately. And by lately, I mean since a friend of mine pulled up my Instagram in front of a few other people and went through my photos, one by one, questioning why so many people liked them. Yeah! Like, what?! I actually was left feeling insecure about my Instagram because people like me. In what lower-level college psychology class does THAT make sense? (Because I should hate myself, right? That's sorta my whole thing? Hating myself? Totally joking, but actually totally not joking at the same time?)

That's actually been happening to me a lot recently. On one hand, it's nice that some of my "real life" friends recognize that there are a good amount of strangers who find me interesting; on the other hand, it's a little insulting that they are so surprised by it. I get really defeated by that thought sometimes. So many strangers take time out of their lives to send me some nice words, or encouragement, or a funny story, or hate mail... and my friends make me feel embarrassed by it?

In general, aside from the quick succession of posts detailing what kind of moronic shenanigans I deal with on a daily basis in my personal life, I believe I haven’t fallen into that trap of getting too personal and detailish. I mean, yeah, period-boobs and talking about car-crying, those are pretty personal, but not something I would ashamed to talk about with my Dad. In fact, I revel in talking about my period at my Dad. It’s the quickest way to get him to leave the room. Sometimes I just say “vagina” and he’s already half way down the street, getting another box of wine to help forget what a disgusting failure his youngest daughter really is.

And, I don’t know, there is a difference between living a dual life/no life and living a life while keeping a blog. Right? Blogging is normal now?

Do my friends think I’m ridiculous? Are strangers reading this blog because it is a train wreck of a human writing this shit? CONSTANTLY WRITING THIS SHIT? I know I have a handful of blogs I read because they are train wrecks.

I think I’m ridiculous. I write in this nearly every day. That means I’m on the computer nearly every day. I guess that is normal, to an extent, especially for a 20-something.

I feel uncomfortable admitting to most others that I have a blog / Instagram, and I can think of one person in particular who has, several times, said to me something like “I’m afraid Karin woulda blogged about it.” And then that leaves me in sobs internally because WHAT IF THAT MEANS I’M WEIRD?

I don’t know! I’m having a blogging crisis! Gettin’ real ashamed over here! Thinkin’ maybe I should stop blogging constant shit about mundane feelings and actions!