Sorry. Not Sorry.
I thought I was writing too much. I thought I don’t want to bore the tears our of my bloggie-buddies, and then have them stop reading my brilliant missives. I don’t want people to be annoyed by my blog. Then I remembered why I write this blog: FOR ME. It’s my outlet, to clear my head, to analyze all the scraps that I gather in a day, week, month, year, and to give me a place to spread all those bits and pieces out and take a look at them, and see if they make a big picture. Or a little one. Or any kind of picture. I care that people read it – that would be a lie if I said I didn’t – but I would write it even if they didn’t. So I was going to say sorry for inundating you with my trivial mind dumps – but I’m not.
I like writing. I like thinking “out loud” in that way. I could be doing something useful and practical, like cleaning, organizing or crafty. Reading. Folding laundry. Dare I say it? Exercising. I’m not, I’m plopped in a recliner with my busted laptop on my lap, probably giving my left knee some sort of tumor because of battery radiation, typing away. Sometimes I write entire paragraphs and delete them because I get way off on a tangent. You should be grateful that I edit myself. I should be grateful I edit myself. I sometimes thinks I should say great things in my blog, be inspiring, that sometimes I am just too whiny. I guess, this being a reflective sort of day for all of us, a new year, a new beginning, I kind of feel that I should be doing something important, or enlightening. Something other than typing indiscriminately, eating mediocre pepperoni pizza, and watching a Tudors marathon. I wonder sometimes why people even read this blog because it’s not like I do anything truly inspiring. I just let words spill out on a page in an exercise of self-indulgence.
Sometimes I am afraid that I get too preachy or stack my soapboxes too high. And again, I have to remind myself, these are my thoughts, and as long as they aren’t going to jeopardize my job again, I write for me. I think I do it because I don’t know a lot of people who think like me, (or maybe I do and they just aren’t comfortable being a bleeding-heart feminist socialist crafting-philosopher-mommy with narcissistic tendencies) and I need to say what I think without the threat of the villagers storming my house and burning me as a witch. I sometimes say the things I think out loud, and I see the brief flash of horror/fear/incredulousness pass over the eyes of the person I am talking to and hear the hesitation in their voice before they attempt to reply to what they just heard. Sometimes I say things just for the shock value, just to get a conversation started. I like hearing what other people think, having a discussion about something. And even though I write this blog for me, sometimes I just hope someone will make a comment that will lead to a discussion. When I was teaching, I loved having my students do a daily journal (a great teaching tool that I learned from Dr. Jessica Dorman, my graduate school adviser, and friend) because it gave me the opportunity to have a discussion with them one on one that I couldn’t have in class. It was a lot of work, but it gave both of us to a chance to think, digest and reflect on things that we don’t normally get in a busy day. Not everyone gets the cultural subtext of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the series, not the film) nor the depiction of Feminist Theory in the Powerpuff Girls. Or how democracy fails following apocalyptic events as depicted in The Walking Dead. Or appreciating the Shakespearean themes in SOA. Sigh.
Anyway, it’s New Year’s Day and you know what that means. All-new Dance Moms. Another study in what fascinates the masses and how it is connected to my theory that Western Civilization is decline. I could read. You would not believe the tons of books I have in this house that I have not yet read. (I did read my Christmas book “The Santa Trap” – but I was disappointed that it did not rhyme. It did have very lovely illustrations and makes a fine addition to my children’s Christmas book collection). The unread do not in any way match the heavy library that has to be moved every time we do, but it’s a significant stack. I also have a massive amount of unfinished projects from Christmas to do, including my Christmas cards. (Christmas is a season, so if you are waiting on your card, it’s coming, I still got until the end of the holiday season). There’s laundry – Santa was supposed to bring me a dryer, but he is going to have to get new brakes for the car instead. There tons of other things that need doing. And goals and shit I should be setting. You know, turning the grasshopper into the ant. I wonder who lives longer? Off to google that now. Back. Ants, particularly worker ants, normally live 90 days. Some can live 2 years. Grasshoppers live about year in warmer climes, or die in winter in colder ones after they lay eggs. Male grasshoppers die after they mate. They will mate from 45 minutes to all day before they drop off and die. It is also much more likely that you will step on an ant and not a grasshopper. I suppose I am better off being a grasshopper in the long run. Ants are followers. Grasshoppers bounce all over the place. The more I read, the more I am a grasshopper. And I think I might be okay with it.
Well there’s you have it…my first blog entry for the new year. Unfortunately, like most other obsessions with my life, this is the current one. I signed up for this blog challenge thing for the next thirty days, so you can expect me to stop writing completely within a week, because we know how I love structure and consistency. I am going to think hard that the snow starts tonight so I can have a snow day tomorrow. Everyone think hard. I need more time to do nothing. And if you are the person who I promised Zealot to, remind me of that, because I’m done reading it. I’ve also been tossing around the idea of reviving the book club – let me know if you care. In other news, I’m still short three subscribers to meet my goal of fifty real people. And hey, if you are looking for me to be a ball of perky sunshine every day, join my Gratitude 365 group on FB. I might even start documenting my thrilling life on memory card (I almost said film, but who uses film anymore) And now, I’m going to beg Andy to make cheeseburgers. Andy makes the best fucking cheeseburgers. Peace bloggy peeps.