I was talking to a friend today. He knows that I’m a chronic worrier, and he said something very interesting:

“If you must fulfill your daily worrying quota, worry about something important.”

I had been whining because a friend had unfollowed me on Twitter.

I hang out a lot on Twitter, and I follow and unfollow at … well … I woudn’t say at random exactly. I follow people who sound interesting. I unfolow people hu typ txt msgs tht luk lk this. I follow people that make me laugh. I unfollow people who spend way too long on Chuki FM. I follow people who say stuff that makes me think. I unfollow everyone on #SwaWed […because reading in slow motion is way too much work]. I follow people with interesting user names. I unfollow people who start to annoy me, though mostly it’s just plain old PMS. So you see, my follow/unfollow pattern makes a lot of sense – to me – but it’s mostly pretty random.

I follow a lot of strangers and unfollow a lot of friends. It’s not because I love them any less. It’s because they refuse to properly use RTs. It may be because they’re much more fun in person, or because they shot off ten tweets in a minute. Yes, I know I do that too, but I rarely see myself on my timeline so yeah. *sheepish grin*

Anyway, given my hair trigger follow-unfollows, I really shouldn’t care who does the same for me, right? Except last week, there was a silent même in blogworld. Everyone was doing lists of why they did or didn’t unfollow so-and-so. I noticed I am guilty of all those offenses, and noticed some unfollowed me – twice. Ouch! Hence the whiny conversation.

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After setting my head straight, my pal says he knows that I worry, and it seems I enjoy it. Well no, I don’t. I’ve been trying to stop actually, and it’s proving quite hard. So he gave me an antidote.

“In college, girls freak out in the summer when they can’t fit into their swimsuits. They go on crash diets to fit back into them, when the simplest thing to do is buy a big bikini!

For about five seconds, I was tempted to argue against that statement. We’re girls. Buying a bigger swimsuit is … well … stupid. But I knew I wouldn’t win, so I let him go on.

“If you can’t stop worrying, just worry about something else.”

He’s right of course. I have a million things to worry about. Like meeting work deadlines, or getting bills paid on time, or washing my months-dirty jeans, or cleaning the vacuum machine, or pleasing my weevil-shaped spirit creature. The trick is to pick what’s important. The way I’m  wired, as soon as I solve one thing, I worry about something else. So I need to write up my To-worry list, then cross out the stuff that’s too silly. I just love crossing things off to-do lists, so this could be fun …

What do you want from meAdam Lambert

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