Self Absorbed Nincompoop Starts Blog and is Stunned to Find No One Cares About Her Opinion

 

See, with just five extra minutes and photoshop you too can make a badge!

Oh, I know that I am not the first ding-dong to think her ramblings make a difference.

It started out as an innocent experiment and snowballed into an exercise in full frontal disclosure. Miraculously, it’s still standing.

No one could have predicted that someone so schooled in inconsistency would make a habit of posting every day about things that most people just live through but never record. It would be a way to document what was going on during the days so that when I looked back I could say “Oh my, I had completely forgotten about this/that/the other”.

Or at least that’s what I told myself.

Then I started to like it.

I could vent my frustrations and failures as a parent, a wife and a human being and purge the running stream of conciousness commentary out of my brain and onto a computer screen, hit publish and it was gone. I didn’t have to think about it over and over.

I even have an alias. Only three people I know of who live my everyday life with me know that I write this blog.

My MOTHER can never know.

She would come at me with everything she’s got like a rabid mongoose headed for a den of snakes.

Not that it will ever make much of a difference in this big bad world. The people I rail against will still continue to befoul all our souls without punishment and I’ll still be click clacking away on my laptop about it lost in my own little dream world not having changed anything. 

 But the more people you meet out here the more you realize the world is mostly a welcoming place. People are inherently kind and supportive and will do a sistah a favor even if they have never met the “actual” you.

So what if a few of them turn out to be parolees masquerading as moms with toddlers, who are we to judge?

99% qualify as super good eggs with interesting things to say and wildly different takes on a variety of subjects, each equally fascinating.

There are those who will go on to write novels, star in movies, become famous for their stunning rack of boobage, rob banks, see the world, or go to prison. Then others like myself will stay put, happy where they are and loving every minute of it.

So, for whatever reason you may blog, I raise my cup of coffee to you (fuck you, it’s ten in the morning here okay?) and say that it’s perfectly okay to have fun and let it all hang out because there are others who are of like mind.

That and you couldn’t possibly talk about your bits more than Elly does.

Seriously. You can’t outdo her.

She’s sort of a legend.

Food For Thought

In the wee hours of the evening when everyone in this house is either sound asleep or otherwise occupied, I usually find time to poke around on the Internet. As I’ve said before, I am utterly ASTOUNDED by the sheer number of people blogging and the number of sites that exist for that sole purpose. My buddies all set out fearlessly ,wrote with abandon, putting themselves out there and were rewarded handsomely. Followers, advertising, accolades. I dipped my toe in (as is the cowards way) and toiled away in happy obscurity telling NO ONE , that I had even attempted typing a sentence much less a crappy little blog.  It just seemed so….self indulgent.   Real writers pen books, I told myself. Besides, you need to be raised Italian or Greek to properly cultivate the creative neurosis of a Sedaris or Notaro. That shit doesn’t come easy, you need to suffer for it.  I see blogging more on the level of  journal keeping with a twist.  This keeps the writer out of harms way and impervious to criticism, because as I just found out, no matter how hard you scrub you can’t remove the stain of failure. It permeates your clothes and eventually your soul. 

Tonight I spent some time on blogher.com and tossed a previously unused entry of mine over the fence to see how I felt about it.  www.blogher.com/mensa-mean 

I guess I’ll see if it still seems like good idea in the morning.