Last night, in a particularly gloomy mood, I halfway decided to put a 6-month limit on my weblogging adventures, at the very least, to look things over and reassess the situation and value of it versus the time I put into it. It just seemed crazy to keep it up, try to come up with new thoughts or try to avoid posting useless thoughts that nobody cares about, or start repeating myself—which I’ve done, and believe me, this sends up flags that could very well stop me in my tracks after having dealt so closely with my mother’s Alzheimer’s—just for a handful of readers and thousands of poor unsuspecting college kids trying to do honest research through Google and ending up in my lap instead. But then something happens that puts you back on track.
This morning I received a lovely e-mail from Fred of Fragments from Floyd who noticed that I’d added him to my daily reading list. Then I sauntered over to Lauren at Him, Them and Me and realized how very much we affect each other in the blogging world. Lauren, and a few of the others on that list have become very special to me. I know that if we lived close to each other, we’d be friends. If we hadn’t been blogging though, we would never have met. One of us within this logging loop will post something that brings up memories or feelings in one of the others. If they’re good feelings, that’s great; the feeling is enjoyed and sometimes inspires a post. If they’re not so good, it’s something that gets it out on the internet and out of mind temporarily with a big sigh of relief.
A couple of my entries in the last few days were about feeling old and unattractive. Normally, I just don’t give a mouse’s heinie about it, but it just comes around now and then. I think I feel that I can’t flirt anymore. My mother was an outrageous flirt even through her mental incapacity, and into her last few weeks, until she died at the age of ninety. I’ve watched her innocent flirtations and found it charming. Somehow though, even though I’ve been a flirt in my mother’s image, it will suddenly make me feel bad instead of just enjoying the playfulness of communication. I will feel like I am being offensive in some way, and that thought saddens me.
Really, more than being upset with aging or lack of feminine charm or whatever, it merely saddens me. I always knew that at my height and body style, and without benefit of fine-boned features I would not age gracefully. But I didn’t expect this, and so early. I think that in a recent post I mentioned I wanted to go out and get into some trouble. Maybe this is what started me thinking in this direction—I feel too old and unattractive to get myself into any decent kind of trouble.
There. We come full circle with this entry to the advantage of blogging. I’ve said it, it’s off my chest, you can think whatever you want of my whining—but I feel different already and it’ll be a while before this bothers me again. So there.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
see, that is part of the whole point of it — writing it helps you feel better — whatever it is you are writing about helps YOU, who cares what others think? i mean, we all do a little bit, but mostly this is all about us, each of us and what we feel like putting out there, regardless of what others think. it can get tiring, i admit that i understand that — balance blogging is what i strive for. a few days breather is a good thing sometimes. but even if you write everyday, as long as it helps you, it is good. i have had my doubts, but know i’ll let the blogs linger here as there will always be something to say.
Kelly, you know you’re one of those special people that I wish lived close by.
Yeah, I’ll probably be here for a while too. Thans!
Oh I have a regular cycle with Fridays being navel gazing day… all introspective and full of self-doubt. But Kelly is right. Our blogs are ways to keep the trees from falling in empty forests, and knowing there are hearers….even to hear our chest-beatings and lacrimations…is better than whining alone.
And then there are the inspired days when your words go where you intend and lo and behold, someone writes to say thank you, I needed to hear just that just now. Just when I’m at my lowest, some good thing happens, and I’m jazzed for another few days… and now the blog is 18 months old!
And I have this theory I haven’t voiced yet that male bloggers get nowhere with self-pitiful posts. It just is not tolerated. I don’t know how many “pages” I’ve mentally wadded up and thrown in the trash thinking “I might as well tell this to a fence post” but knowing, coming from a gal blogger, it would get twenty sympathetic comments. At least this has been what I’ve seen reading around the blogosphere. So, that said, I feel your pain, sister. Fifty five and a shadow of my former self. But life goes on! Enjoy!
Fred, I think that most of us are tolerant and understanding of the ups and downs as writers, although you may be right about “girls” getting more sympathy when we have our rough moments. But sensitivity is all a part of writing, and if you’re having a rough day, go ahead and write about it; we’ll be there for ‘ya! The weblog medium is a fragile means of communication, and when someone is consistently read and followed, I think the support is there because we not only don’t want to lose the connection, we can’t help but caring about the person behind the blog.