I don't feel like blogging very much lately. I think about things I would like to write about constantly, but don't feel like putting forth the effort. I know that very few people read my blog. Sometimes none, so I think why put forth the effort. Well, I'll put forth the effort for myself and for my posterity. Mostly I want to blog about running, and fitness, but that probably bores most people. I also have a lot of pent up, negative emotions inside me that are trying to claw their way through. It is with great effort that I suppress them. If one chooses to write about negative feelings they are generally viewed as complainers, cynics, whiners, or feeling sorry for themselves. It is not very appealing, and often thought of as trying to get attention. Well since becoming more aware of how few people view my blog, I've decided to let a bit of those negative feelings leak out.

 I am lonely, and I've always been lonely. Obviously more sometimes then others. I thought when I was younger that getting married and having children would change that. I adore Christopher and he treats me like gold. He listens, he comforts, and he tries hard to lift me up when I am down, but he doesn't always understand my insides.

 I have very few real friends. Thoughts on this are- am I too boring, not attractive, not smart, funny, clever, rich, too shy, say the wrong thing, too sarcastic, not cool, too immature, too simple. Don't judge me. These thoughts don't come from no where. They come from a life time of experiences. I will write of a few. I am a middle child in a large family. It takes effort to get noticed.

 I grew up very poor. Being poor does not get you a lot of friends. Your clothing is cheap, second hand and old. You can't afford to go on the outings with the other kids. No puffy ISPO jackets, no LA gear sneakers and certainly no cabbage patch dolls. At a young age I was told by my neighbor that her mother said I dressed like my clothes came out of a rag bag. People that are not poor tend to think people that are poor are that way because they are lazy, unless they live in a third world country. This idea is infuriating to me. As a child, and as an adult poverty will always be an embarrassment, simply because of the judgements that go with it.

 Other then the few people I hung out with in high school, no body else remembers me. Not even teachers. I had a favorite English Lit teacher, a year later she couldn't remember my name, and no she did not have Alzheimer's. Last year at a homeschool outing I ran into a girl that I had gone to 5 years of high school with. I had been in many classes with her, and even sat near her. She was very popular and not very kind. When I mentioned to her at this outing that we had attended high school together she had no idea who I was.

 My current friends and my childhood friends continue to keep me as a last resort. That means, we will visit you if we have nothing better to do, we will hang out with you in the summer only if we can fit it around all the other things we'd rather do, and people we'd rather see. Oh, you're moving, too bad we won't be around to spend time with you before you go. That is our vacation time. Oh, you're coming out in a month. I'm not sure I'll be able to spend time with you for whatever reason. Now this may sound dramatic and pathetic on my part but this is a life-time reoccurring event. I remember these things happening when I was a child, a teenager, and early adulthood. So of course my thoughts return to the above: is it because…

 I'll admit that since moving out here and getting an iphone I spend more time on FB then I should. I feel it connects me to home and the rest of the world, however it doesn't connect the rest of the world to me. I get few responses, or comments on pictures. I know this is because my life is dull. There are no vacations, or weekends away. It's me at home or at the park with my children. It goes along with my blog as well. Even those I think to be my closest friends don't read it. I could go out painted purple and I wouldn't get noticed.

 I promise I am kind. I make food for people when they are sick, I send little things in the mail to my friends, I watch other people's children, clean other people's houses, and I compliment everybody all the time, on their hair, their outfit, their yard, their cleverness, their words. I have fantastic manners as well, and I am not a slob. I am very hygienic, and I never smell bad, not even when I'm really sweaty. I smile on the outside all the time. I don't walk around complaining, like I am now. I pick up an out of my way, knocked over garbage can on a run, I clean up litter, I shovel other people's driveways, talk to elderly people everywhere I go, help an overwhelmed parent with a tantruming child in the grocery store. I do my best to put myself in other people's shoes and treat them the way that I would like to be treated.

And yet, I must be missing something.