Profusion of pink jasmine and not-so-profound ponderings

Like the hedge of pink jasmine that almost knocks me over with its heady scent when I get into its proximity, my thoughts lately are overpowering, full and somewhat tangled. I hope I'm not the only one that gets this way sometimes.

I would have thought by this time in my life I would not succumb to insecurity. But I do.

Is it just a "chick thing" to constantly battle with ridiculously superficial insecurities like...

"Do I photograph flowers too much? It seems that 'serious photographers' I run into in the world of social networking always apologize when they feature a flower shot. Am I showing my amateur underbelly by constantly taking and posting photos of flowers?"

And thoughts like...

"Am I following proper blog etiquette? Should I respond to every comment in the line of comments? Should I respond privately via email? Does it suffice to simply visit a commenter's blog and enjoy their space? Where is Emily Post when you need her?" [Yes, I realize there's a pun there... and I find it rather amusing that in this day and age we don't have an Emily Post for posting.]

Then...

"Maybe I should turn off commenting all together and save myself these mental gymnastics."

Or this is a "favorite"...

"If my blogging friends ever met me in person they would run the other way wishing they never had. I would be a huge disappointment to them if they ever met me and I'd be exposed as a big fat charlatan. And, heaven forbid, if they saw my house or my garden! Their ideal vision would be shattered because it's just a house in need of more repairs and a garden in need of constant weeding."

My poor Hubby (and sometimes family members) get to actually hear me as I try to work through these thoughts out loud. I feel so sorry for them. Like the profusion of pungent jasmine along the garden fence, I must be a tangle of overwhelming nonsense far too often.

I wish I could say that I was also like the annual-blooming jasmine and my own "insecurity bloom" happened only once a year.

Alas, I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Great! Another thing I can feel insecure about.