Now I am realizing a blog is more like a pet, or a child, or a super demanding philodendron. It has to be nurtured! You worry all day about how it is doing! You wonder, is it developing normally?
Last night, I couldn't fall asleep because I was trying to figure out what I would write about today. Then, today, I realized that my entire inner-monologue had shifted. I am now a blog-oriented thinker. A BOT. As a BOT, one never stops asking herself, "Am I interesting??" A BOT goes about her day storing up items she might eventually discuss in her blog like a squirrel stores nuts.
I spend ten minutes on an exercise bike right next to my ex-boyfriend's father, and I don't say hello. (Neither does he. We just sweat together, side-by-side not speaking, peddling to nowhere.) Is that blog-interesting?
I buy a bunch of groceries willy-nilly (I am mysteriously drawn to kale--a vegetable I've never even touched), and the total is $61. Even. Not one cent more or less! The check-out girl says, "That never happens!" Interesting to me, but as I drive home, I wonder--is it blog-interesting? What will I blog about?
These examples are inane, but it gets more serious.
I go to climb into my shower and find my 2nd deadly Hobo spider in the tub. That doubles the number of deadly spiders I've found in my shower. And, the moment after I ascertain it is a Hobo spider (on account of the dangly balls hanging from its head--actually fangs, for the irachnophobes out there), I think: perfect! Something to write about in my blog! Then, as I bring the shampoo bottle down over its poisonous little body, I hesitate, just for a moment, because...if it happened to bite me...wouldn't that be blog-interesting?!?! At least a week's worth of material, so long as I don't let it bite me on my blogging hands and I seek appropriate medical care.
All of which just goes to prove that blogging is as dangerous, as self-destructive, as I've long suspected. And, as usual, now that I know it is bad for me, I'm hooked.
Or you finally have an interesting conversation with your spouse that you could write about and he says condescendingly, "What, are you gonna blog about this now?" And then you realize you are a douche.
ReplyDeletePS Did you get a cat? (I am a dumb reader and need it spelled out for me.) You need a cat to hunt down these spiders, Kendall. I'd hate to think of you dying in your shower from a spider bite and not being found for days and then when you ARE found you are naked and probably really pruney. Wouldn't that be about the worst way to go?
Want to go to Costco on Monday?