1. All my life I have wanted to be a writer. Even when I was two and couldn't write. Before I could scribble down my own illegible thoughts, I used to make my mom take dictation. Some of my early stuff was pretty good. It mostly dealt with the Big Bad Wolf.
But then, disconcertingly, when I "grew up", I just ended up getting pregnant over and over again, like some sort of queen termite, and producing male children with ADHD.
So I ended up not getting to be famous after all.
2. Even worse, last year, I noticed that all my children obviously regarded me as a mentally challenged maid and personal assistant.
For years, they have tended to ask me stupid, pointless questions like "What causes thunder?", "Is Uzbekistan in Europe or in Asia?", and "How do I solve this simple math problem?"
To avoid wasting my life in a flurry of Wikipedia searches, my strategy had been to refer them to my husband, and wait for them to ask something interesting that I could answer like "What do you think about the nature of reality?', "Would this sentence be stronger if I ended it here or there?' or "How much butter should I put in this cookie batter?"
Sadly, this day has never come.
I realized last winter, to my horror, that I had accidentally allowed my children to believe that I am an outright imbecile due to my total lack of interest in math, geography, physical sciences, construction, practical matters, and sports. It occurred to me that perhaps, I should begin to point out those areas in which I have actually developed some mastery. Basically, these come down to list-making and writing.
After attempting to show them all how to make lists, and giving up, due to their lack of interest and poor hand-writing, I started a blog.
Have you noticed how good I am at both list-making and writing?? I have worked both of these skill sets into this post in order to show off the diverse skills I possess at putting letters (and numbers) onto pages.
3. I seem to be suffering from some sort of Unknown Illness, something glamorous, very much like a famous author might have. This additional qualification really is a slam-dunk for me. Puts me right over the edge into greatness.
Actually, I have a very real concern that some day I might not be able to keep a job that involves walking up and down hallways, and this is my back-up plan. That might sound stupid, but if you consider that my take-home pay is perhaps less than most people who beg for change on the street of any major city, it sets the bar pretty low for my ultimately being able to replace that income.
And a low bar is just the right height for me.
So, I am trying, with the enormous support of my father, my husband, and my kids, to get people who don't know me to read my blog somehow. The idea being, I guess, that after they start doing this, they will begin sending me checks in the mail. (This part is not fully fleshed out.)
The Portal to Hell
1. I am now obsessed with becoming popular with the right people. Here is a snapshot of this:
Two bloggers whom I admire greatly have followed me on Twitter. Right now it is pretty much them, my dad and eighteen
2. Snapshot #2:
As a result of noticing that some people other than my family and friends are reading my blog, I am fighting to avoid imbuing all my writing with enormous self-consciousness, to make sure I sound clever and funny enough in case the right people are reading me. I think I will take a page from my son and begin adding "That's what she said." every few lines. It seems to impress the
3. In middle school, I was riddled with angst. If there were stats I could have clicked on repeatedly to see how much people liked me now....and now...and now, I would have done that. And now I can. Thank you, Google Analytics! It's like a Popularity Index for writers with mild OCD and anxiety disorder.
Middle school was not the best time of my life. I will leave it at that, since some of my very sweet family read this blog and perhaps do not want me to recount the blow-by-blow details of that particular descent into Hades.
In order to avoid repeating a period of my life which ended with a drug-riddled high school episode which seemed favorable by comparison, I am going to make a commitment. Two very good things came out of middle school. And, although I lost them, I later found them again on Facebook.
I am planning to address my next several posts to Lorien and Hope (my best friends from sixth grade), who always "like" my blog posts and laugh at my jokes and never take offense at my crass sarcasm. For them, and for all of the sweet friends and loving family who read my stuff, like it and remember to tell me so, thank you.
Writing publicly from your life is like jumping out of an airplane wearing a parachute made of some idea you have called "Self-expression." Either that fucker will slow your fall or you die in a blaze of bloody glory. If I had to do without anyone telling me "Go for it!"...pretty much daily...I would have given up long ago and returned to alphabetizing my kids' socks and looking up Asian countries on Wikipedia.
So, here's to you. Thanks for slowing that hard fall, guys.