Day #2 – Bad Dreams about Blogging


Last night, I slept fitfully. Imagine all the bedding (comforter, thrift-store sheet set) all tied up around my legs and my tiny dog, Pig-Pig.  (Don’t worry, I’m not one of those posting pics of my dog in or out of funny costumes with captions.)  I was nervously dreaming about making this blog.  Why is the word “blog” so unsexy?  It sounds like I’m sick – like I’ve got a virus or ate some bad chicken.

A nerdy guy at work told me I needed to tweet.  He said, “People would follow you! A crude, potty-mouthed sailor girl.” I thought about it.  I recoiled.  I tried to dip my toes in that icy pool of snarky lines and quick phrases, but I’m not ready.  I don’t think I’m fast enough or cool enough or whatever it takes to pick up people online.  While I’m impulsive, something about short, quick interactions leaves me feeling…cheap.  At least here, you can stop and get to know me on your cigarette break.

This blog was impulsive.  Last night, I couldn’t sleep.  I finished printing out my manuscript and MFA Thesis.  248 pages.  I was in a Kinkos with a hole punch trying to not to jam it with thick stacks of paper.  I’m impatient, too.  It’s still in a uncracked binder and plastic bag.  It needs a hard edit, a real paper and pen mark-up, but I’ve spent a solid year compiling, drafting, and editing this work.  I’m sick of it, frankly.  Like a relationship that’s grown too familiar and thus, becomes somewhat mundane.  The “let’s screw every night, maybe twice, and fireworks in our eyes” has turned into “let’s watch a documentary and each chips.”

So, I’m taking a break.  Letting it grow dust for a few days.  (In my house, that is way possible.) My draft is due on the 15th. We’ll see how it goes.  I’m certain my shrewd, probing adviser will say, “Hmmm… I think you are avoiding men or your past or your bitch of a mom….” Like a therapist.  But he’s fond of saying, as well, “People want to relive your experience.  That is what memoir is all about.  Be brutal. Biting. Honest. Even if it’s unflattering or rude. Don’t shy away from what scares you.”

Blogging scares me.  I’m not shying away.  Not today, anyway.


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