The last week left me brimming over with things I’d like to document, namely events, feelings, and booze, but given that there are Lollipop Guild rules here on the Interweb: alas, I cannot. There are various reasons for this. Some of the content isn’t even mine; I’d instead be sharing others’ ridiculous dating stories and the like, which might then be considered hearsay or gossip or, given that it’s coming from these rosy lips, absolute truthitude. Some of the posts might hurt people I know. Some of the content falls under the Golden Rule of blogging that shall remain nameless but easily identified by all those who have blogged for at least one full week.
I find it somewhat irritating and vaguely insincere that I can’t share all of these things, even though some of them aren’t even my things, and, as I do my best to document here the true life and times of one DC woman. What you get from me is only a snapshot of a very full book, which somehow makes it seem like our relationship to one another is like a perpetual first date. You see what I allow you to see. It seems disingenuous. But maybe more important is the fact that, given my rapidly diminishing memory, this outlet serves as a reminder to me of 1) when most things occur in my life, like breakups and sex and proclaiming a love for Celine Dion music, and 2) the only history I have of myself in words. I find it disturbing that it is forcibly incomplete.
And thus the blog sits quiet many a day. Which, when anyone else does it, easily frustrates me as a reader. Um, excuse me? Do you not know I’m waiting for you to say something very witty about the mundane? And that you are my 2 p.m. read? Must I wait all day here? And forget it if the blogger is getting real cash money to spend his or her time blogging. Should a day of posting be missed, I get that feeling like one does when she’s waited on the gynecologist’s table for 20 minutes, on her lunch hour, and her MD strolls in the exam room door reading a People magazine. Am I interrupting you? Aren’t you my Interweb slave? What are you doing all day if you aren’t writing a 500-word post JUST FOR ME?
Maybe you’re like me; thinking about a post in which you bitch about not writing. Now that would be novel.
I find it somewhat irritating and vaguely insincere that I can’t share all of these things, even though some of them aren’t even my things, and, as I do my best to document here the true life and times of one DC woman. What you get from me is only a snapshot of a very full book, which somehow makes it seem like our relationship to one another is like a perpetual first date. You see what I allow you to see. It seems disingenuous. But maybe more important is the fact that, given my rapidly diminishing memory, this outlet serves as a reminder to me of 1) when most things occur in my life, like breakups and sex and proclaiming a love for Celine Dion music, and 2) the only history I have of myself in words. I find it disturbing that it is forcibly incomplete.
And thus the blog sits quiet many a day. Which, when anyone else does it, easily frustrates me as a reader. Um, excuse me? Do you not know I’m waiting for you to say something very witty about the mundane? And that you are my 2 p.m. read? Must I wait all day here? And forget it if the blogger is getting real cash money to spend his or her time blogging. Should a day of posting be missed, I get that feeling like one does when she’s waited on the gynecologist’s table for 20 minutes, on her lunch hour, and her MD strolls in the exam room door reading a People magazine. Am I interrupting you? Aren’t you my Interweb slave? What are you doing all day if you aren’t writing a 500-word post JUST FOR ME?
Maybe you’re like me; thinking about a post in which you bitch about not writing. Now that would be novel.
15 Comments:
I am so feeling your pain! There has been many a day when my best material is suppressed for any one of the reasons you mentioned.
Yes, I promise, the best posts are those I have yet to write.
I have developed an evil plan, however, to write all the posts I'd like, with the intention of publishing them further down the road when the circumstances of their suppression no longer remain. And, my faithful readers will never know they aren't current... mmmmuuuuaaaaahahahaha
Holy crap...people get PAID to write on their blogs? Where was I when they formed THAT line? Damn, I must have been in the "How to drive men crazy, no..really crazy...so crazy that they stalk you for days and get arrested", line. Darn it... I always miss out on the good stuff. :)
well, i was leaving a comment that essentially put me at the scene of not posting at mine own blog due to mouth drooling over the prompt of other bloggers' posts (oddly i haven't weekly challenged in some time), while simultaneously reminiscing of a time when, at 13, i realized, rather not epiphanically, that life is more or less a bowl of soggy cereal. i typed a bit of how at that time i had likened myself to danny zuko. alas, my dammit computer crashed.
struttin and huggin,
lord f
Luckily you are filling our need of 1) writing about writing stuff we can't write about (what?), 2) bloggers' filling the need.
(heart)
See, that is precisely the reason I don’t let my real life intersect with my blog life. I want to be able to write about whatever the hell I want to write about with out worrying whether or not I am going to offend someone.
There have been many times I've wanted to write but the details overwhelm the story and alas, I am forced to either make it so vague that the funniness would be drained from it, or let it go.
This is the plight of the blogger. Keep it on the surface, but keep it juicy. That's tough.
I wonder how long it will be before college campuses offer courses on such issues.
Hmmm, yeah, I feel your pain, or anguish, or frustration, or whatever it is...
*sigh* I miss you.
Anything worth reading is worth waiting for.
That's what I'd say to anyone who drops me a line to ask me about why I'm keeping them waiting, except sometimes in my case they've been waiting for something that's not worth reading.
So, it's all yours, I believe you can use it with impunity.
Ah yes, I have this same struggle all the time. Having chose to blog under my real name and more or less 'for' the reading pleasure of my family - there are lots of very juicy things I *could* write about, but don't. Siiiigh.
I am reaching a point where I may actually have hit the wall in terms of my mystical ability to make time for everything.
I mean, I now have 3 very important ladies in my life, and they need attention. :)
Hopefully I will get around to the blog soon.
I'm trying to avoid blogging about soiled diapers and pukey receiving blankets, so really it's all for your benefit #3...
Fuuck! There's a Golden Rule of Blogging? WHAT IS IT??!?!
Oh, and it's summer, baby, so aren't you grateful that everyone isn't updating all the time? Gives you time to work on that deep dark Hawaiian Tropic Tan.
I think anyone who has been bloggin awhile knows exactly what you mean. Sigh. If you find the magic bullet answer, let me know.
Uh, yeah, I can relate. Which is the downside to an anonymous blog not being so anonymous. As in having readers you might want to write about. Sucks-a-roo. There's been a family issue bubbling in my blood for ten years now and it will come to a head in the next six months. I can't wait to finally vomit up all that I've kept inside.
Anyway, still write the stuff. And then email it to me! I won't tell anyone. I promise.
Maybe you need to set up another blog that IS anonymous for that particular reason. Call it "airing my dirty laundry" or something. No?
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