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Category Archives: Blog related Blog Posts.
This is why I love Twitter. Just 15 minutes spent perusing my stream on any given day, and I’m gifted with such glorious links.
(I link some of the more random weirdness to my husband sometimes and he generally replies with ” Where do you FIND this shit?” Or, “I’m at work, stop sending me fishporn.”)
Whatever. You know you like it.
Anyway, without Twitter my life would lack such links as these:
Most links shamelessly pulled stolen my twitter stream. I don’t remember who posted what, so to be safe, just follow everyone I follow.
So, I wrote this post a while back, (in response to a post that went up over a month ago but I’m like six months behind on blog reading so shut up) listing the things that *I* think are over rated.
Then I totally wussed out and didn’t post it, because I realized that there’s probably something on this list that’s going to piss off all twelve of you and my mom.
And even though I tell people who know me in real life that they are not allowed to get angry at me for anything I write on my blog because it’s a blog and I’m probably full of shit or joking anyways, still.
People can’t help it, and when I have things on my list like breastfeeding and natural childbirth, I’m pretty much just asking to be sent nasty emails calling me an evil boob-hating-Office-phobe and having people show up on my doorstep prepared to give birth in my garden tub just to show me how empowering it really is. And I don’t feel like cleaning up after that.
(Do you know how hard it is to get placenta out of the drain?)
So then I thought maybe I would qualify some of my items. Like, maybe I’d explain in detail, how I think breastfeeding is great and all, (and i totally think you should be allowed to do it wherever and whenever you damn well please) but I don’t think nursing until your kid is twelve is going to guarantee that kid a spot in Harvard and the ability to speak 34 languages, including a few dead ones.
And, I’d point out that no matter what the formula-is-poison people say, my exclusively formula fed kid is healthy and happy and smart and actually healthier than the kids I DID breastfeed. Who, by the way, both suck at playing Mozart and can’t conjugate verbs at all and have yet to be accepted into an Ivy League school.
Or, I could write a whole thing about how if Natural Childbirth is your thing then- Awesome! More power to you. You are a masochist stronger woman than I. But hey, I’ve actually tried it, and no amount of marketing can make me say it was transcendent. Ever. Or uplifting. Or even especially spiritual. To me, it was no more spiritual than any of my other births, and I actually felt less bonding with that child afterward because I was too busy focusing on the people sewing up my girl parts with no anesthesia and then passing out from the sheer exhaustion and trauma of it all.
But then I realized I was probably over explaining things, and maybe I should give you guys more credit. I’m allowed to have my opinions, right? So, to hell with it. Here goes:
(and by extension, Parks and Rec)
Sure, it’s yummy. Is it worth five bucks a latte and all the hype? No.
Yes, I have read the books and seen the movie. Along with a million other vampire stories. Why is this one so special? They sparkle, for fuck’s sake. And the guy that plays Edward in the movies is really rather weird-looking.
Yeah, I said it.
She recently asked my friends mom- who is a flight attendant and was trying to take her drink order- “Do you know who I am?” and then announced that she “Didn’t talk to the help,” and that the flight attendant should take the drink order and address any other questions via her assistant.
Dude, you’re a cable TV chef and your books are next to Paula Deen’s. Get the fuck over yourself.
Because it needs to be said, again.
Just because I haven’t pissed off the tech geeks yet. And because I’m jealous that I don’t have one.
(Is there an app for that?)
My apologies to you, you, you and you. I love you even if you watch the Office and want to give birth in the forest with a badger while sitting in a Bumbo with Rachael Ray as your doula, O.K.?
Oh, for the record- here’s a few things I think are underrated.
Best. Invention. Ever.
Yeah, I am so not an attachment parent.
Killer sex robots, ya’ll. Come on.
All news should be broadcast by this man.
Because we’re awesome, assholes. Or awesome assholes. Either way, it works.
Gluing shit to other shit and covering it with glue is the shit!
I know I had more, but I think I need to go eat something now.
I’m sorry, I know I have been terribly neglectful these past months. At first, I just needed some time to internalize and deal with my small tragedies, but then… well, then-the dreaded phenomena known as “pregnant brain” kicked into full gear.
If you have ever been pregnant or known a pregnant person, then chances are, you know exactly what pregnant brain is, even if you do not know the oh-so-scientific term for it.
Have you ever started a sentence only to forget what you were talking about right in the middle? (Something I am notorious for doing anyway, even un-pregnant) It’s kind of like that except instead of losing a train of thought completely, it just skips to a new track. So many of my sentences start with ” Let’s paint the room…” and end with”Pie!” The result of this is that I can barely think a coherent sentence, let alone write a coherent blog post.
So, we did in fact manage to completely paint the room, after four coats of evil yellow paint. And we did, after much searching, manage to find furniture and assemble it. So, we are getting there. Slowly but surely.
I just hope I have a brain left at the end of this journey.
Speaking of pie, the kids will be here in just a few incredibly long and slow moving weeks. I can’t wait, and I have no idea if I am ready for this. And then school starts back up. And somewhere in the middle of all this, the Kid is turning Six.
Almost Six-year-olds are brats. How is it that no one has told me this before? I keep waiting for a stage to pass, and it eventually does, but there always seems to be a worse one waiting. The Terrible Two’s turned into the Bossy Threes which became the Whiny Fours which became the Fearful Fives which, apparently, become the Snotty Sixes.
Is it the same with boys? What the hell am I going to do with a boy anyway?
In case you were wondering: the name of the week is Eli.
See what I mean?
I started blogging years ago, as a lark. A friend told me it was the new “thing” and suggested I give it a try. I was hesitant at first, not really wanting to make what I felt was essentially a public diary. I mean, who would give a shit what I had to say about stuff anyway? Who cared what I had for dinner? But I had nothing better to do and no one to really talk to aside from the Man, so I decided to give it a shot. Couldn’t hurt, right?
It started out for me as essentially that, a diary of sorts. My first year of posts were painfully boring, mostly revolving around The Kid and what she had for dinner. Every so often I’d write an essay-type post about something in the news that caught my eye, and that was about it. But as I progressed, I started being able to write about more personal things. And I actually grew as a writer.
And, I realized people were actually reading me. People beyond the first five friends with whom I’d started. And I started reading other blogs and commenting on them. I met some incredible people, purely by chance. And people started linking to me and sharing my stories with other people. And it was pretty cool. I realized that, as isolated as I was, I wasn’t actually alone. I felt like I belonged and wanted to sit and sing Kumbaya with people.
But, something happened. I became vaguely dissatisfied, and then outright disgusted and frustrated. Because, I’d discovered that the blog world was kind of like high school. There were cliques. And I realized that I just wasn’t fitting in to many of them. For the same reasons high school didn’t work for me, because I was different I was honest.
A lot of the parenting blogs out there claim to be honest looks into motherhood and marriage. And I would read them and think to myself: This isn’t real. This isn’t honest. This person is playing a part here.
And, I started to notice a trend. The popular tables were full of this person, this play-actor. And if you weren’t like them, well, you didn’t quite fit in. And if you didn’t fit in, you didn’t get the links, the promotion, the mentions that are what helps us parents make an actual business out of this. And I saw several people who were once honest, become tame, watered down, censored versions of themselves in order to get advertising or readers. To fit in to what the desired demographic was.
The demographic is simple: Married Mom-bloggers with multiple kids, mostly. Heterosexual, Married mothers of a certain mindset. Mothers who were willing to pimp products and talk about baby poop and labor breastfeeding, but nothing worse. (And nothing else) Moms with clean, marketable life stories. Because who’s going to want to advertise on a blog where the mother has lost some of her kids? Or is, god forbid, living in sin with a man?
The fact that I wasn’t married felt like a huge black mark. And then there was my child situation. While many awesome bloggers were, (and are!) supportive and, well, awesome, some sat in judgment of me. Which, I mean, I can’t entirely blame them for it, we all judge, whether we pretend otherwise or not. And my situation is a crappy one with lots of failure on my part. Lots of room for judgment. And I knew people were coming and reading my stories about the kids, stories that ripped my heart up to even think about, let alone write, and then, you know, talking about me in the locker room after cheerleading practice, or whatever.
Which is fine. I mean, I know people are going to wonder about things. And talk about them. But after awhile, it got rather disheartening. I got sick of the whole thing. I wanted to fit in and connect with these people, but I didn’t want to have to take my one outlet, my one place of honesty, and just homogenize myself. Make myself into something more marketable and less honest. I didn’t really want to be the token train wreck either. But I also didn’t want to be dishonest. I wanted to actually talk about the hard stuff. Divorce, addiction, the kids, being sick. And the good stuff too. I wanted a place where I could use real honesty. Not just Oh-my-god-parenting-is-hard honesty, other things as well. Oh-my-god-divorce-is-hard. Oh-my-god-missing-my-kids-is-hard. And it seemed like the “Momblogger” demographic was just not willing to accept me into their fold unless I changed myself completely.
So I stopped.
I missed it though. I missed having a place to vent, a place to explore and improve my writing, a place to share the joys, AND the sorrows of life. More than that though, I missed the community. I missed knowing that other people are going through the same things, even if they couldn’t talk about them as candidly as I did. My heart hurt as well, with the missing of the wonderful people I had connected with.
Finally, after a year or so, I came back to the fold. I deleted the old blog, though, and started over. I wanted to reinvent myself. I wanted to be more than just a Momblogger. I wanted to try from a different angle. I wanted to be me, not just a mother, but also an artist. A writer (sort-of). A person with serious joys, but also serious problems. A person with serious dogs that eat random shit.
So I started over, from scratch. And it’s gone well, from a creative standpoint. I am much happier with this Blog. I am actually much more honest, much more candid, and I feel, much more interesting.
I guess I had forgotten about the cliques though. And the silent judgment.
And now with everyone using Twitter, the cliques are just so much more cliquey.
(As a side note, I finally threw a little Twitter tantrum and dumped most of the people I was following who couldn’t be bothered to follow me back. I too, used to think it was impossible to follow so many people coherently and still have time left over to sleep and pee, but then I got Tweetdeck to work right. And really. There is NO EXCUSE. Even like, famous people now follow back, and deal with it, and they actually have other things to do besides be online, unlike the rest of us. (Yes I know they pay interns to manage their Twitters) This article popped up in my feed, right as I began my Twitterpurge, it’s exactly on point about all of this. I’m not saying you have to follow all the spam bot’s either. But you should follow the real people. It’s just Twitter etiquette (twitquette). Use a twitter client to filter if you can’t handle the volume, but follow back. I’m seriously going to start a movement about this issue. #twitquette People who want to have one sided conversations, who have thousands of followers and 80 followees should be dumped until they learn to follow back. Pass it on.)
Anyway, yes, the cliques are much more evident on Twitter, because only the popular kids get follow backs, apparently. And then I am left feeling like a loser for trying to have a conversation with someone who simply doesn’t care what the uncool or unknown kid at the mathletes table is trying to share. I know I am a huge geek and you can’t be seen with me. That’s fine. You know what, there’s a whole bunch of geeks who DO want to sit at my table. Who do care what I have to say. Who read, and respond to my posts. Even when they are not homogenized for mass consumption. Even when they are about uncomfortable topics.
I don’t need to be one of the cool kids. I don’t need to be seated at the cool table. I want the community, I need the community, but not at the cost of making me feel like the kid on the bus with the glasses and the headgear and the glandular problem. Not at the cost of my honesty, my self. This is supposed to be a place where we all come together to support each other. Not a place where we get all elitist and exclusionary. I’m not getting sucked into all of that again.
Wait, I take that back. Let’s start our own group of renegade people. People with tattoos and piercings and Super Mario fetishes. Families of any kind welcome. Breastfeeding not required. Kids not required either. People who want to meet other, accepting people. AlternaBloggers! Unite! Hurrah! We can have our OWN conferences, complete with gift bags full of 20sided dice and toys from Thinkgeek. Sound good?
(For what its worth, I’m absolutely not ragging on anyone specific. Even If I did unfollow you recently. Chances are, if you are reading this, then it’s not about you.)
A friend of mine recently read my blog for the first time. (Hi! Welcome!)
She told me, “I like it. It’s funny. You write how you talk.”
I didn’t really think much of it at the time, but later the phrase came back to me. People have said it to me before and I’d never given it much thought.
But it’s true. I do write how I talk. I think that is kind of the point.
There have been many conversations out there in the world ( I will not
say Blog-O-Sphere: I refuse) about whether blogging is actually writing. My answer: Sure it is. Unless you suck.
No, seriously – and I mean this in the nicest way possible, really – some people just should not be out there trying to blog. (I’m fully aware that I’m probably one of those people and this post is entirely hypocritical, but still…)
(God, I really really really want to go correct all that. Must resist impulse…)
Ok, so now that I have gone off on THAT tangent, let me get back to my
original point. Writing. Blogging. Bloggers tend to write how they
For me, blogging is kind of like having a conversation with the world.
Also, if you like and respect someone for their acting or singing or
whatever, you might want to think twice about reading their blog. I’m
I intended to work on some fun “Want” posts for you today, and do a little research on why doctors don’t know shit about nutrition for something else I am working on. But then the man came home, and I got kicked out of the nice comfy office and on to the laptop from 1985. The one that gives me this strange pain in my leg after its been on my lap for more than a minute. The one that has the mouse that randomly wanders off and does its own thing, no matter what I do.
Needless to say, I’m not working on those posts now. I can barely even edit text on this thing, let alone pull pictures off multiple sites. Sorry. I should have had something in reserve for you, but I’ve been busy working on other things this week. (Yes, Fiction. No, you can’t read it yet.)
I could go clean my house instead, but I think I will just go catch up on my TIVO-ing. Ah, TV, how I love you so.
Dear shows on my TIVO: Please don’t suck.