Why am I doing this?

I’ve always wanted to be famous. But, as I begin writing this quasi-autobiography-blog-thing, I think, what a weird thing it must be to actually be famous – to have your whole life be public – to have all your shit out there in the open.

Take the Clintons for example. Both Hillary and Bill have written these massive tomes explaining their lives -- casting light into dark corners, catharting a bit perhaps. (To be honest, I haven’t read either book.) After such exposure, how does one walk down the street and look people in the eyes? You don’t know who knows what about you. You have to assume everybody knows everything.

So, why am I embarking on this? Why am I about to relate all these personal thoughts and experiences, after which, I too will be exposed. It’s like playing a game of "I’ll show you mine if you show me yours" and then the other person backs out …and there you are with your pants down.

I suppose one reason for this writing is therapeutic. I want to make sense of what’s happened to me over the years -- an attempt to laugh and put things in perspective. There’s also the hope that I’m not alone -- that some of the things I say will resonate with others, and that, just perhaps, I am indeed not the only one who isn’t perfect.