I'm not ideally suited to blogging. I'm inherently self-conscious, long-winded, perfectionistic, and slow. I'm also pathetically susceptible to others' opinions of me. My emotional involvement with my blog--which a few of my "readers" (i.e., best friends) recently noticed I had abandoned--had become more intense than a 13-year-old's crush on Simon Lebon, or, you know, whoever those crazy kids are into these days.
Previously, I would spend a week writing something far too long for a blog post, forcing my husband to read it six times and reassure me it was okay. I would sit at the computer, meditating on that orange "PUBLISH POST" button as if it were the proverbial Red Button. Finally, I would take a deep breath, press the button and hop up and pace around the room. Then I would read it over in published blog form, to make sure there were no errors I'd missed. Then I would unpublish it, because there would be. This could go on for an hour, or three. For the next few days I would compulsively check for comments every ten minutes, and each time I got one, it would be like I'd won the Nobel Frikkin Prize. My metabolism was heightened, I flushed, I fidgeted. When all 7 people had read it, and the comments tapered off, I would slide into a funk.
I fully realize how lame this is. Or was. I know what a blog is, or is supposed to be. I understand that everyone who reads it is somebody I know, who will either enjoy it and say something nice, or politely keep their mouths shut. I really do get it, that nobody cares, and it doesn't matter. We can examine the appalling lack of excitement and purpose in my life some other time, or not.
The thing is, in spite all of the emotional upheaval it caused me, I think blogging was good for me, because it gave me something to do (I know, you're thinking maybe if I had, like, two things to do, it wouldn't seem so important... um, shut up). Anyway. I really want to continue blogging. I just, seriously, can't fuss so much about whether it's any good.
So, fair warning: from now on, this blog will disappoint you. I will long-windedly blather about stuff that you don't care about, and make jokes that aren't as funny as I seem to think they are. I will be overly serious sometimes, and say stuff you disagree with. I'll probably even insult you, and your mother, and her stupid little dog. You are going to HATE this blog from now on. You probably won't even read it at all.
Whatever. Like I care.
