Results tagged "Blog"

I know. I’m a little sick of the internet too.

However.

Despite the fact that the internet is currently being over-run by Mom bloggers and social media loving tweet freaks, I still have to maintain that having an online portfolio of work is still somewhat priceless. Kind of like real estate in the Hamptons — you know. Good to own even if you never visit. Like my neighbors whom I have run into three whole times since I moved here almost nine years ago. NINE YEARS. Nine. One less than ten and two less than eleven. ELEVEN.

I am, by the way, one of those Mom blogging tweeting freaks, so I maintain the right to criticize. But even more than that, one of the three times that my neighbors came over to my house was to accuse our dog of relieving himself in their yard. And when I pointed to our pup saying “Are you SURE?” — whilst the Bluedog happened to be in a leg cast due to a severe cut on his paw, and therefore completely INNOCENT of going next door and excusing himself inappropriately. Mrs. Neighbor looked confused but never apologized for suggesting that he was guilty. And that, my friends, was just over eight years ago… I remember it clearly because while our oh so pleasant exchange was bubbling — her daughter, then a toddler, was wandering through my white walled house with melted Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup all over her hands… and eventually my walls.

But whatever. Is it really my fault that I remember instances like this with crystal clarity? I could go back even further, should the need arise… which is kind of what I did as I built my new portfolio website. Looking through old projects — some over a decade in the making. Nostalgic over some that I loved dearly — and still do… Wondering if certain opportunities, such as being a Creative Director or owning a Design Firm are all experiences that have come and gone… Juxtaposed with business partners and employees gone sour as well as clients closing their doors. Tumultuous learning experiences that I can now apply to….

Because almost everything has a timeline, but usually the good stuff reappears. Television shows go, but reruns save face. People stop eating bread. Chocolate eventually comes out of white walls, and if not one can always repaint… And yes. I can still design stuff.

[Subtitle: After Three Years of Blogging, It's Still Important]

I went online over the weekend, and the internet bored me.

And when I say bored — I don’t mean it in the sense of disappointment it’s just that nothing exciting is going on. And, whatever, I know. AUGUST. For the love of mud. Because WHO else is looking online for anything at 4 pm-ish on a late summer Saturday? I’ll tell you who. No one. Not even the people that you suspect might be online all the time. Guess what… they aren’t. They’re ‘out’ — said with my hands fluttering. Or sleeping… maybe they’re sleeping and dreaming about a time when the internet was solely used for stalking, research and shopping. Oh the shopping.

I remember when the internet started to become important, AND — I’m not that old. It was 1997 and I was just graduating from a college that DID NOT have internet access in every dorm room… or dorm… or library even. I had to book a date with Rick in the computer lab and then login via AOL on dial-up in order to do any surfing… which was limited anyway because, you know — RICK, the computer lab guy who’s desk was strategically placed in the middle of the room so he could stare at our backs and the screens we were looking at. At the very mention of going ‘online’ Rick would break out the beads of sweat. But despite the limited access, we weren’t internet starved or anything… My friends and I lived off campus my senior year and I don’t think any of us (meaning all three) even had a computer… or a cell phone. Not to mention that I was a Graphic Design major — I learned oldschool — rubylith, rulers and missing fingertips due to x-acto blades. Drawing meant something and computer graphics were a side dish. Forget about a PORT or DIAL UP connection… right? Because I didn’t know how important the internet was going to be… And you know what — it was nice.

But I couldn’t just let it stay nice. No. I had to go and get all up inside the web and learn about designing for it. Websites. Banners. gifs. jpgs…. FLASH. Knowing the science of what will work and what won’t… but not really caring at all about why. All very open-ended… and constantly changing — FAST… So fast that the thing you learned one day was insufficient the next. It all makes me think about Kit — the talking car from Night Rider. He was fast. And smart — and genuinely nice– unlike the haunted car in Christine that just tried to kill everyone… And dudes, he could talk. But was this really going anywhere? I mean — once the car could talk, it still couldn’t do many other things — it was defunct in the ability to evolve… And now, that the internet can answer just about anything you throw at it — is there anything left? Lost friends, check. Medical emergencies, check. Family, check. Shopping for everything (except H&M, damn you and WHY?!), check. Money matters, check. News, check. Life, check. And don’t let my fascination with Kit the talking car throw you, I’m still not that old.

Because three years ago in August 2008, I started this blog. Yay, Happy Birthmonth Blog! GIDDYUP! I’m not really clear on the exact date that I started posting, because at one point I became frustrated with the “beginning” and went back and deleted stuff… An action that only exacerbates the tumult of my relationship with this website. Because who can recreate the beginning? But wouldn’t it be great to go through 3 years of something, decide that things might be better if the beginning had been different and then go back and alter it? Right? Because, for whatever reason that is what I did… and you know what — IT MADE NO DIFFERENCE. This blog is still this blog…

Regardless, as I sit here, amazed at what this blog has brought to me via the internet. I had no idea of the connections I would make — both professional and personal, and I NEVER could have predicted the abundance of friends that I have made as a result of blathering on about this and that. When I started, I didn’t know about the 60 million other blogs out there… I think I knew of and read 10, half of which ended a long time ago.

I was struggling to define my life that was in the midst of enormous change… kids, economy, design, ALLERGIES, the FDA…The IRS — you name it, AND I’m still searching. The whole experience has been priceless — and it isn’t even OVER, despite my occasional threat to damn the internet and all that it contains. Because apparently, it contains 3 years of me– personal, private, and OUT THERE… like a sitting duck. Because, okay — maybe not for you, but for me– that’s kind of important.

Yes.

And it could be that I don’t have anything to write about lately — I mean I don’t want to drag on endlessly about the daily goings on of my kids (plural!). Because, while I’m not going to deny how awesome today’s trip to the library was — they seem to have disabled the fire alarm trigger on the side door of the Children’s Section, much to Will’s chagrin….Or how tomorrow’s trip to the deli-counter might compare itself to that of any world traveler — “1/2 pound of smoked turkey and 1/2 pound of black forest ham. SLICED THIN. Please.”… I just don’t want to be as boring as I could be…. and Dudes, that is no joke.

I could change things up…. Make a set routine for myself and blog about things regularly — but haven’t I tried that several times already? From list links, guest writers to product reviews to OMG whatever, blah blah blah. Is any of it really all that interesting? Do I sound like I’m complaining? REALLY? Because I was, and now I am… ABOUT MYSELF. Because I’ve tried and I can’t commit to anything regular — at least not here, inside the scandal ridden internet that was once a gorgeous infrastructure with clean lines hinted with the scent of peonies and chocolate chip cookies (dairy free, of course), and the known division of heaven and hell. Now it’s just your typical inner city sewage pipe — walls dripping with all kinds of sordid behavior… also linked to pipes from churches, playgrounds and PBS. And look at me now.. Sharing the SAME PIPE. And who knows what creepshow is just WAITING to abuse something, ANYTHING,  right around the corner. Committing here just doesn’t feel good (enough) anymore.

And then there’s the IT factor. The technology that boggles me almost every day from technicalities as simple as download this so no one STEALS anything from you to I HATE MY BLOG DESIGN. Because I do. I hate it. I can’t even look at it anymore without wanting to beat the shit out of it. But then there’s the fact that I don’t have the time OR the patience to learn a new internet language in order to fix things myself… a personality trait brought on by, once upon a time, having employees that DID THINGS FOR ME. And, while crying and whining about the IT, the not-so-sudden realization that people aren’t really even reading anymore… so what’s the point? While there was a time when I was eager to hit the pavement and drive traffic to myself — I now ween myself away from it… NOT joining the new sites that MIGHT increase the interest of others. Coming full circle, perhaps — from once not wanting anyone to know… to telling everyone… back to when will I ever just SHUT THE HELL UP? Kind of like NOT being online is the NEW online. And who am I to bend towards the trend?

But then, no.

Because I like being here. And even though I don’t have anything to say… I mean, not really, I might later on.

Have you seen the movie Funny People? You know… it came out a few years ago, starring Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen… About a successful but lonely comedian (Sandler) who finds out that he’s dying from a rare blood disease and attempts to improve his overall situation by hiring Rogen to be his personal assistant and joke writer… I know you know it. I mean, it’s only on cable thirty thousand times a week… And, while it isn’t a very good movie and definitely NOT a comedy — which the trailers lead you to believe (those tricky marketers), there are a few laughs to be had.

One scene that sticks in my mind — and I swear, although I can’t find any online reference to it, IS in fact part of this movie (I know because I watched it 50 times over the weekend), is when Rogen does a stand up comedy act opening for Sandler and tells a tale about the circumstances of Tom Cruise, George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Will Smith getting together and touching penises… About how these Hollywood powerhouse penises together could make the earth stand still, the heavens sing and kick-off a world-wide peace treaty for all to abide… Or something like that. And this is where an online reference would totally help, because, although this was part of the movie, I’m totally not describing it accurately….but TRUST ME, it’s one of the funnier parts of Funny People… and not because of the acting… No. But because it was just placed in an ill fitting screenplay. You can probably go watch it on cable, RIGHT NOW. Go. I’ll wait.

But I think about this scene.

I think about it when big things happen — and not because of the penises. You know, when people that seem to be at the top of their game all get together to produce something good… like silicone baking dishes (not to be used above 500 degrees or your house will explode) or indoor herb gardens  — even the Chia Pet was quite brilliant, if you really think about it… Some whacked out gardeners all getting together in the mid-1970s to touch their collective bongs and spade shovels… And just like that. Billions of dollars.

But it isn’t just famous actors, gardeners and food tv personalities that are touching things and making the world go-round… No. It’s also us… those unheard of outside of the internet and yet churning out opinion after opinion, snark-filled complaints and ways to cook dairy-free. Yes. That’s right. THE BLOGGERS. And whatever — millions upon batrillions of people hit the internet every millisecond and start a blog. WHATEVS. But there are a few that actually get together, rub shoulders and POOF — do something. Like drink too much and WRITE BOOKS. Which is not only the case with the book, Let’s Panic About Babies, by Alice Bradley and Eden M. Kennedy, but also the point of this post (finally!).

Taking some time out of their busy Mom and blogging schedules, Alice, of the infamous finslippy.com, and Eden of fussy.org did what many of us dream of doing…. But aside from showering on a regular basis (I’m assuming) they also pulled their proverbial shit together and wrote a tongue in cheek pregnancy/baby survival guide. Aimed at Moms-to-be that understand the depths of dry wit and dark humor, the book answers the warnings and endless thousands of other publications that tend to make new mothers lock themselves in dark rooms for nine months whilst acting as vessels and nothing else for the soon to be born. And it’s true — the fear that is instilled by the likes of Proctor, Gamble AND hundreds of others that cram their livelihoods into the world of the MD — only to make us question every breath, every sip of water, pot holes… and Dear Gawd — DON’T USE THE MICROWAVE. Because at 34+ weeks, this baby might compare to the weight of a large pineapple but if it comes out looking like one, I’m blaming everyone that ever gave advice… to anyone. About anything. Ever.

The book lovingly starts off by questioning the results of our assorted pregnancy tests and then shoots right from the hip when accusing us all of having sex. And I know, right? The balls on them… the GUILT … AND the audacity. But wait, the tone then shifts to giving reason for the almighty SMUG, the benefits of Jimmy Leg and of course… after the babe is born, what to do when you discover “This is overly difficult, and I have changed my mind”… pg. 142 — the pros of having a baby, ending with “Provides you with someone to blame for all those thwarted ambitions.”… And I’m laughing as I type, even if it’s on the inside.

And so, while ‘Let’s Panic’ does not come with a disclaimer… such as do not read this if you are pregnant because MTV said it was the new hot teen trend… Or, please don’t take us seriously because we really don’t expect you to, there really are a lot of relaxing points. Having a baby is serious business — not to be taken lightly, but then again, neither is listening to every piece of advice that is handed out to you… Because WHO else wants to end up all tied in knots (don’t answer that), stressed out to the brink of not knowing what to do when the baby cries…. A LOT (because it will). And with that — I highly recommend this book. I recommend if you are a parent with no future baby plans, but knows the walk… and of course if you are expecting — like every other one of you that I know, who says pregnancy isn’t contagious… Let’s just hope that the next time these crazy blogger types get together to touch mani-pedis that they aren’t focused on things like neuroscience and government take-overs… because YOU JUST KNOW that they can’t stop thinking…

_______

And on another unrelated yet somehow related note… Thanks to Jessica DuLong for acknowledging my post two weeks ago on her book My River Chronicles — AND for not getting mad over my not capitalizing the L in DuLong throughout the whole post (now corrected). My maiden name contains a capital G and when people make it lower case I tend to slip into violent twitches all over my body…

But really, thanks. Thanks for the thanks. It is right to give thanks and praise… and not just because I’m Catholic…

Hello there… won’t you please come in.

I’ve been hoping that you would stop by — there are so many things going on these days that its hard to keep track — What haven’t I told you lately?

Did I tell you about how inconvenient it is that I moved my computer to the basement? Yes. It was a bad idea. Now almost every time I need or want to compute, I have to slink off under the guise of doing laundry. It was also rather inconvenient that my accountant moved his office from the neighboring town of Hampton Bays to a place called Aquebogue…. Which makes me think that I have to borrow Mr. Sal’s thigh high fishing waders and head out into the bogs of Long Island while carrying peace offerings so as not to upset the natives. What’s that? Long Island doesn’t have any bogs? Really. ARE YOU SURE? Because I just googled it and therefore must BEG TO DIFFER.

Do you know what else Long Island has? PINE BARRENS…. Masses of pine trees huddled and mopped together to form clumps of forestry so thick that if you were to stick your hand in, it might just take DAYS to pull it back out. Right? Although I’ve never actually tried this, as I drive to places like AQUEBOGUE, I can envision this happening. Which is not only why I’m more afraid of Pine Barrens than I am of a bullet riddled Hood — But ALSO why I’ve chosen to write a blog post that seems to be about nothing. Because I spent a good part of the past few days reading through Mommy Blogs and I have to say that writing about nothing might be a better choice for time well spent.

It all started rather innocently, with my perusal of a few really good blogs that I enjoy on an almost daily basis. I would never consider these blogs to be “Mom Blogs” because they don’t focus solely on the lives of the writer’s children. Instead they blather on about idiosyncratic topics OF WHICH I feel compelled to compare my own life with and THEREFORE consider to be nothing short of GENIUS. At one point, as is what usually happens here in this conundrum of the internet, I clicked on a link… and then another… and another… and another until I was lost and wandering aimlessly through a sea of angry and heavily drinking Moms that seem to not only loathe their daily lives, but also have no qualms about sharing these rather sad and insecure feelings about their kids, husbands and general STATI-Q in life.

A lot of these blogs, of which I’m too nice to actually link to so that the Moms don’t hunt me down and force me into the Pine Barrens, focus on really personal things… like cute pictures of kids coinciding with posts about not having enough time to ones self anymore… or how so-in-such’s life could be so much different today had she not married while pregnant and, yadda 3 more kids later, she’s lucky to get one night out a week away from the dirty bastards. The bastards, of course, being her kids… not the chain gang of friends that she also has photographs of on her blog, in what I can only assume is her home, doing keg stands and smoking butts–Blindingly F’d up, while the kids, I mean BASTARDS, hang around at knee high vantage. And, while I am sitting here, beating myself up for inconveniencing myself by moving my computer to a place in my house that is seemingly impossible to get to… I would MUCH rather hang out with my kid, not complaining.

SO, what’s going on here? I mean, aside from the good Mom Bloggers — of which I liken to Gilda the Good Witch, there are also some rather talented writers out there that AREN’T MOMS and also know that this is ALL WRONG. Could it be that the lives of other semi-celebrity, self-proclaimed Mommy Bloggers have made it such that others feel the need to TELL ALL online? Do they think that there is the same status waiting for them at the end — along with SWAG and personal assistants? Fame & Fortune… And her little dog too! And when exactly DOES IT END? When the dirty bastards, aka CHILDREN, finally escape from the lives that their Moms have told us all about in some aspect of pride? REALLY? And is it worth it? Because, even though I’m writing this from the TALLEST PEDESTAL IN EXISTENCE,  if attempting to write seriously about hating motherhood is the new white, then I remain cloaked in BLACK (seeing how it’s spring-n-all).

And while the picture is a little creepy — she was really just looking for some gum. Because nothing says Welcome Back like a good hunk of Big League Chew.

Not far off from the ill-fated woman in “The Ring” but totally not without holiday cheer…

We spent the past few days bouncing around the corners of New England, and while the weather had us all confused with ideas of gardening and snow boarding at the same time… We really just slunk around with face masks on without getting anything accomplished. I do plan to go on and on  (and on) about our little get away, but for now the only really important issue that was resolved was this blog and the continuance of. That being… da-ta-ta-da! It will continue.

Because I haven’t felt very good about blogging lately. I haven’t felt the need to talk about very much about pretty much anything… and this whispering guilt of the whole thing not being what I started out to accomplish in the beginning has had me feeling rather guilty. Yes. Guilty about myself. (insert sniffles and crocodile tears) Guilty about starting out to have a blog about a design firm that doesn’t exist anymore.. Guilty about having a great deal of interests and hobbies that I never write blog posts about… And while we’re at it… Guilty because I don’t fancy myself a very good “writer”. Guilty because I am not a very active participant in the blogs of others AND guilty about the whole sharing “thing” that surrounds writing a blog. But then when I answered the knock at the door, Cher gave me a good Moonstruck slap in the face.

“SNAP OUT OF IT!”

And while Dorian, Johnny Cammareri and I have found comfort and appreciation in things like this blog post over at Pajamas and Coffee as well as a social media confusion article in today’s NY Times… I have decided to STOP THE INSANITY (ew) and let go of caring about the rest of it… the number of readers, the hits vs. the visitors, the readers vs. comments… Not to mention the TIME is takes to do any of it all together! I mean if ignoring your child to write a blog post is a crime, then take my lifts and call me BERNIE!

In the beginning I didn’t care. I didn’t even care in the middle… but somewhere out there among the blogosphere I started to make comparisons and question my intentions… What, EXACTLY, did I think I was doing? And what would be so EARTH SHATTERING about SHUTTING HER DOWN? Because that’s what one does to things that make them unhappy, right?

So… while I sit here, weeding through pictures of our trip and continued house remodeling adventures that I plan to share with you… I hope that you will stick around, because there really is a lot to blog about…

What am I doing here?

That’s right. The time has come.

I think it’s been a few months since my last online identity crisis — so this is nothing short of forthcoming. I mean really. What, exactly, do I think I’m doing? And before I get into it, I have to interject and just say that I have known people that have lost precious positions in life by inserting “exactly” into a question such as this. It really is annoying, right? I mean… what, EXACTLY, is the point of making MORE of a point in the beginning of what you are trying to say? It packs a bit of punch though… kind of like when George Clooney takes a role that he is totally unsuited for and then FORCES the hell out of the character… like THEY WILL BELIEVE ME, DAMMIT. In fact, the “Exactly” is somewhat equal to the “Dammit“…. But I can’t get into equating verbiage against verbiage… because I’m not a writer, as my conscious and psychic capabilities keep telling me. But apparently, dammit, I am a blogger…. and given that I’ve already mentioned George Clooney in this post should prove that I know something about what I’m doing.

Searchmongers…

Because blogging — in all of it’s fame and glory — can be frustrating. AND, I am quite addicted, which makes this hobby some what of a crutch… AND, I’m not alone (gasp!). There are millions upon millions of other bloggers out there. Which makes this blog one of millions and millions of other blogs — not to mention millions and millions of other websites. Daunting. It’s easy to cringe when I think about how much time I’ve invested in something that is really mostly for me…. and, in the larger scope of millions upon millions, only touched on by thousands. And why? WHY? What is the meaning of all of this? I don’t want to spew my life all over the internet for the sake of laying it all out there.. What do tell-alls have to gain aside from the possibility of some monetary success? The endless images of their kids online… their private lives… above and beyond personal thoughts and observances of reality internet… or better yet–  FAKING IT ALL TOGETHER, I mean this is the internet… who’s going to know, right… until we meet you in person… And then what’s the point, we all know… because of the BLOG.

What, exactly, is wrong with that?

I’m not going to share my every second with you, internet. I’m not. If you’ve read me at all, I think you’ve realized this. AND, dammit, blogging is a time struggle for me. I don’t always get to read all the blogs that I want. I don’t get to have the time to respond to all the emails (all 5 or 6) and comment posts that come through publicly… but I want to, does that count? I also want to keep going… learn to write, AND someday write something that means something. Because while my heart is in this public diary of sorts, I don’t want to whore it all out for the sake of earning more readers– bleeding it all out over Facebook and Twitter… Bloggy blog group sites for Moms and other bloggers that only blog to attract other bloggers to read their blogs. Not that there’s anything, exactly, wrong with any of this.. Perhaps WHORE was the wrong word. (please keep reading my blog). In other words, I want it to work — but defining what “it” is has me a little perplexed…. while thinking too much can only lead to way too many home improvement projects at once. ((breath))

So while writing this post has, in fact, done nothing to quell the insecurity that creeps in every few months making me want to yank the plug on everything and go harass the Amish into letting me join their orthodox polygamist temples where I could be in charge of making paper out of berries for the sake of the monthly catholic news, I do think that I have convinced myself to stay put a little bit longer. Because what, exactly, is wrong with polygamy?

Is there anything to gain from being fake?

I mean, I get it. You are a brand. You believe in the gimmick. You really do wear tutus all the time. You didn’t dye your hair neon pink for any other reason than to be noticed…  And, although we know you couldn’t help yourself, you decided to stand up and announce that you’re not a blogger… at a blogging conference. Do it. It’s fine. There is a fine line between absurd and obnoxious… but what the hell, we might be boobs, but we’re also adults — GO WITH IT. Because… although no one at BlogHer 2010 was really there to pay any attention to you… you made them do it anyway. I mean WHO do we think we are? Just a bunch of Hoo Haas hoping to glean a little knowledge from others that may or may not know what they are talking about? And, I mean, the schtick might be funny… but say it one more time, and I might just take your tagline and smother you with it. Because if blogging wasn’t the topic of choice at BlogHer 2010 — being fake was a definite runner up… a bunch of bloggers (among some great bloggers, mind you) trying to get other bloggers to read their blogs… let alone the general public (hi there public, I love you!) And, while I am considering how to handle this delicate egg of a situation, its occurring to me that one teeny tiny incident needs to be addressed.

I met some amazing people at BlogHer, there is absolutely no question about that… people that I have been connecting with for months… Like minded thinkers, life partners, accomplices… That… Okay granted, I just met on Friday… But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? — Right? And when I was all juiced up and giddy about having met these awesome people, that really turned out to be people… Another person that knows me through the internet… who happens to be internet-loved by many and someone that I’ve collaborated with recently, someone that I’ve…And boom. Crash. “I think I know you”, taking my card as I explained who I am and how she knows me, not looking me in the eye, grasping the ever distracting cell phone, backing away… Knowing exactly who I was and, although I might be a deranged lunatic with my tongue hanging out of my nose, I was snubbed. Shot Down. Ignored. WHAT JUST HAPPENED? Did the conference room just sprout lockers and a gym teacher named Rose? Because if I’m not mistaken, 10th grade just started ALL OVER AGAIN… And as she walked to the table at the front of the room with the other panel speakers, I thought… Huh, she just did that. She did that knowingly and on purpose. And immediately, she was exposed. I then sucked my tongue back into my mouth and cartwheeled out of the room.

Later on that day my friends and I huddled together discussing the situation while a woman behind us twisted her neck in the most unusual ways in an attempt to eavesdrop. Aside from the subject not knowing much about public speaking… did she know what she had just done? Maybe it was nerves, because yes. I am THAT INTIMIDATING. Perhaps not. Maybe. Yes. No. It’s possible.. But before over-analyzing, and since we were finished braiding each others hair… we moved on to more important experiments… like holding a sex toy close to me to see what would happen… because don’t all writing conferences hand out free sex toys? We then went back to snarling and growling about other topics like lactation rooms, while I beamed with pride over the honesty being displayed.

And what happens to someone that goes from being one individual on the internet to another person in real life? From being the man behind the curtain to the lady that really likes to write her website address all over her own cleavage? Do they actually believe themselves? And if so, how long do they think that we will continue to buy it? I’m holding it out there for you to answer… because while I was hoping for a group hug of Bloggers of the World Unite, I now have to wonder how genuine the typing is until I meet you face to face…

I’m not a few other things too, but I thought I’d start with the obvious…

I find it interesting that although I’m not a writer and tend to read 30 things at the same time, that I find the time to bother the internet with my almost daily observations… And when I say, ‘FIND TIME’, I mean that I lunge for it… like its the only scoop of edamame salad left in the deli case… or the only fresh head of locally grown BIB… or the last remaining, almost ripe avocado on display… And SO WHAT if I’m obsessed with fresh foods and salads? I’m not a farmer OR a produce expert either, but I can damn near TRY, and WHO doesn’t love organic?! But did you know that I can write several paragraphs without ever even considering punctuation? That it is totally and completely unethical among all of those invested in RULES that obsessively practice GRAMMAR ?!?! Boo Hiss Boo… And who do I think I am? Well.. I’m not sure, actually — but I do know that I can type pretty gosh-darn fast without realizing that 2 1/2 hours of my day have been sucked up by the blogosphere… only to be read by some if not shunned by others for the annihilated words that I am forcing down everyone’s throats… one misplaced apostrophe at a time. And I know, we can pull out the swords and dual over writing vs. blogging, but to what end when the result lies in originality via the “written” word. Blogging allows for immediate interaction, personality, SPUNK… and while I’ve never tried to write an essay for the hell of it… I can only imagine my disappointment in not saying it all A LITTLE BIT LOUDER.  Not to mention that I find some sort of comfort here… in writing about delusions, whatnots and boondocks… And yes, just in case you are wondering, I am aware that I am doing it wrong… And, considering that I am surrounded by highly educated individuals… some of which are writers themselves and are overwhelmingly powerful when it comes to VERSE and the almighty SNARK, I really should CARE about the fact that I’m doing it wrong… But I don’t. I don’t care.

I don’t care that I’m not a writer but I’m doing it anyway… And just to prove this fact to myself and everyone else out there that gives two cents, I have invested in myself and will be attending the 2010 BlogHer conference this Friday and Saturday. And I know, who am I kidding…. Me, who hides here, typing away… loving the internet because it allows me to make connections without having to talk to anyone.. I’m actually going to get up, leave this seat and join thousands of other bloggers in New York City… if only to see if I can feel like I’m doing something. If only to attempt to embrace exactly what the hell this thing is that I’ve gotten myself into… If only to finally meet a few individuals face to face (finally) and to find some rational explanation for how and why they find themselves here… with me, but not really. And while I’m there, and before I freeze into a solid block of introverted, overly air-conditioned ice, I do hope to bustle some sense out of all of this… Because time here is too comforting to be considered wasteful, and I never like to throw anything away.

So, while this may be my only post this week as I attempt to wiggle my flip flop addicted feet into the shoes that are currently comfortable, I just want to let it be known that I am fully aware. That although I took a few English classes — I do not have a license  to drive. That my skills in typing and knowledge of design software and editing tools does not a writer make… I’m also aware of what a bad dancer I am, that I can’t parallel park for my life AND that acting like you know something when you really don’t only works when you make yourself believe it first [case-in-point]. And finally, in summing it up because I can totally hear you backing away… When we meet, please don’t mistake my poker face for snobbery… I’m not silently judging you and I barely know how to play Go Fish…  All that’s happening is void, and I’m totally aware of it.

Oh and while we were busy fanning ourselves… We also made Pesto more popular. TODAY.  Yeah, that’s right — stick that in your English Lit. pipe and…

Amanda, or Mandy — as I like to call her, and I went to college together.
We went to a women’s college on the Main Line of Philadelphia where we sat on pedestals while hummingbirds bouffanted our hair and talented monkeys ironed our tops… Men were slaves and there was a constant rainbow overhead… And we basked in the never ending sunshine…

When Ry wrote me asking if I’d be interested in guest blogging on For the Birds this week I became totally and completely overzealous and did jumpy claps of excitement. Would I be interested in guest blogging?  Would I?  Would I EVER!  

You see, I am a newbie to all this blogging business.  Before I began my blog in May I used to skulk silently around the interwebs reading other blogs, For the Birds was and is one of my favorites due to Ryan’s ability to tell it like it is and make a seemingly everyday observation interesting, thought provoking, and often hilarious.  I would check in via facebook whenever I saw she had a new post up.  I’d read For the Birds and blogs written by other friends and acquaintances of mine and think to myself, “How do they do it?  How do they find inspiration?  Day after day they come up with something engaging to write about.  I could never do that.  Could I?”.  I still ask myself that question on an almost daily basis.  Does anyone really care what I have to say or am I just shouting my ideas, musings, and thoughts into the echoy cavernous abyss of cyberspace?  For instance how can Ryan make a recap of a Southampton town meeting such a good read?   For me the fact that she had been writing a blog for so many years, and was still managing to keep me, and numerous others,  coming back for more was awe inspiring.  I mean MARTHA reads her blog for crying out loud!  So Ry is sorta my blog hero, she’s kind of a big deal.  So yes, I accepted the invite whole heartedly!

Then  I panicked.  For two reasons, the first being that people actually READ her blog.  My blog is mostly frequented by my Mom and my sisters.  If they don’t comment I harangue and verbally abuse them at family functions.  And I have 5 sisters so that helps hike up my traffic quite a bit.  Sidnote, sister number one, why are you STILL not following me? I am not buying the whole “Your blog won’t let me follow you” bit.  Save it. Just DO IT!  But I digress…Oh, yes, so I was a little unnerved to realize people would actually be reading what I wrote and even more unsettled when I pictured them mumbling to themselves, “Who the hell is this hack and what has she done with Ry?”  And secondly, in the the last week I have hit the proverbial wall.  After 2 mere months of blogging I felt like I had nothing to say.  So I did what anyone would do, I made excuses.  ”I have no time….this week has been insanely busy…I am working non-stop…I’ll get back to it Monday”.  In my defense, my sister was in London on business so I was taking care of my little Terr-bear round the clock.  (Big ups to all the Mothers out there who manage to both parent and blog, I don’t know how you do it).  Add in a freelance wedding makeup gig on Saturday and a birthday party on Sunday and stick a fork in me I was DONE.  As the weekend wore on I started to look towards Monday with apprehension and anxiety.  I HAD to come up with something to write after a weeks silence!  It’s only been two freakin’ months!  Pull it together woman!  Must…find…inspiration.  Write something! Anything!  There were no more excuses, and as Monday loomed closer my angst grew worse.  What will I write?!!  

Then Sunday night I logged onto the computer and there was this little beacon of light, a message from Ry asking me to be a guest bird.  But whatever shall I write I thought?  This week, of all the weeks, when I seem to have lost my mojo, NOW she wants me to guest blog?  So, screw it I thought to myself, I’ll write about the fact that I am freaking out over not having, uhm, anything to actually write about.

Well, will you look at that!  I actually just wrote something. It may not be amazing, but hell at least after six days of nothing I got SOMETHING.  Thanks Ry for the opportunity, for being a pioneer, and for nudging me out of my dry spell.

If you’d like to check out my blog about spending my days with an amazing little man while I figure out what to do with my life please stop by here: http://thebutterflyandthebear.typepad.com