Welcome to Blog 2.0, betches! Still renegade, still confessing, and still anti-everything-corporate, but this time, I’m going freestyle. Why? Because overanalyzing and overthinking are the enemies of creation. I believe the Lord Almighty would back me up on this. Can you imagine if he had sat around thinking, “Ya know, I’m just not sure if the sky is the right shade of blue, or if there should be 612 types of deciduous trees, or maybe just like, 540? And does man really need TWO testicles, or is one enough?” C’mon, the world would have taken 7 years to create, rather than 7 days. Or maybe he would have just thrown up his hands at some point and said “fuck it, too complicated.” (Would God use the eff bomb? Looking around at society, I lean towards “yes.”)
So yeah, about that freestyle. Rather than overthink it and write ten drafts of something that never gets published, this next gen blog will be a free-write. One draft, one sitting, one day a week. Topics to include whatever is topical. Could be religion or politics. Could be cool biz shiz. Could be weirdness of daily life. Could be short stories. Could definitely be some random word vomit, cussing, typos, hipster slang, and grammatical errors so PUT AWAY YOUR RED PENS, this is not a goddamn college essay. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here’s what there hopefully WON’T be any of:
Here’s been my struggle with the whole “blogging” concept. I’ve been told by the blog overlords (oh, they’re out there!) that having too narrow a focus is silly…it will never lead to sponsorship, mass amounts of followers, or advertising $$. But then I was also told (different overlords) that writing for too large an audience will end in disastrously generic content that will never stand out among all the other “I left my corporate job and now I’m living the fucking dream” blogs that are spreading like herpes. My response was pretty much, ok cool, it sounds like I’m screwed either way, so I’ll just quit wasting my time.
Except, I’ve got things to say. MEHHHHH. Writey > Talkey. And if no one wants to read about them because they’re too narrow/too broad/too vulgar/too convoluted/too long/too short/too boring/too controversial, isn’t that their problem and not mine? If even one person reads it and laughs, connects to it, or is weirdly inspired by it on some personal level, then that’s just bonus. Either way, I’m doing it. Because I freaking love to write. It’s quite possibly the only part of me that’s been consistent since day 1. ALL THE WORDS, ALL THE TIME. And that sh!t’s gotta go somewhere so it can stop clogging up the thought pipes in my head.
So going back to my short list of what I am veering away from in Blog 2.0 (overlords, take note):
FILTERS. I’m not talking about photo filters, because those are still dope. (Everyone looks better in b&w or high contrast, amirite?) It’s the verbal filters that can go to hell. I spent 30-some-odd-years trying to perfect the art of saying the right thing, to the right audience, at the right time…and now I intend to spend the rest of my years trying to undo all the damage it caused. All from being so focused on what I was supposed to say and do, that I completely lost all authenticity along the way. This didn’t happen overnight, and nobody brainwashed me into it. My curse was a freakishly high level of self-awareness. I zeroed in on people’s reactions to everything going on around me, and then filtered myself accordingly. Girls getting attention from guys in school by speaking softly, wearing tons of makeup, and playing helpless? Ok, I can manage that. Super conservative family talking politics at every family gathering? Sure, I’ll parrot their views even though I’m secretly moderate. Teacher thinks editorial writing about real-world issues is too “heavy” for high school kids? No prob, I can sugarcoat. Orientation for working with all men in finance? K, be assertive (but not aggressive), cute (but not sexy), smart (but not crafty), and funny (but not crude). Oh, and let’s not forget the implicit #momlife rules…drink lots of wine, complain and brag about your husband in the same breath, wear lots of leggings, buy everything organic, and say things like “EVERY mother is a working mother.” Got it, check.
I was a perfect chameleon. Some might say poser, but whatever. In any given situation, I could blend right in. Which is not a bad thing, as long as you still know who you are at the end of the day when you collapse into bed. But nah, that didn’t happen. I used so many filters over so many years that eventually I completely lost my own identity…and not in a cool way like Jason Bourne. Because I’m not an undercover spy (or am I?!?). So there’s no real reason for using so many filters, and wearing so many masks, other than the sad fact that I just wasn’t comfortable with being me. Probably because I never really took the time to figure out who that was. But hey, don’t cry for me Argentiiiiiiiiiiina….I’m doing it now! Better late than never, I guess. My brother told me once that I was the dumbest smart person he’d ever met. Maybe this is what he meant.
Back to the list. What else do we not want in our blogs? SHAME. And when do we not want it? EVER! Shame is a shady b*tch. You don’t even realize she’s around most of the time, because she doesn’t show up until you dare take a step outside your comfort zone. Then it’s like, TA-DAH! Here, have loads of shame!! Another struggle of mine in blogging (really, LIFE). What if I launch a business and it fails? SHAME. What if I start a blog and nobody reads it? SHAME. What if I dress in a way that’s socially unacceptable? SHAME. What if I cover my body in tattoos? SHAME. What if I say that motherhood is awesome, but it doesn’t define me? SHAME. What if I say I don’t like soda? SHAME. Ok, so that last one is not really shameful anymore, now that errryone errrywhere has jumped on the “just say no to soda” bandwagon. But back when I was younger, this was weirdly shameful to admit. I seriously started telling people I was ALLERGIC to soda (not even sure that’s a thing) because I was too ashamed to admit I just didn’t like it. True story.
Anyway, you get my drift. There shall be no shame in my blogging game. Even if it means my soft little underbelly is exposed.
As far as the last point, I can’t TOTALLY promise no boring sh!t. Because “boring” is subjective (so is sh!t, I suppose). My husband likes to remind me that even when I’m telling an interesting story, sometimes it takes 4 or 5 detours, at which point he ends up drifting off. (Thanks hon. Honesty is the key to a healthy marriage.) All I can say is that my story-telling ability, like my blogging, is a still a work-in-progress. And while just a few paragraphs ago I boldly asserted that I’m doing this with or without anyone’s support, I’m still humbled and grateful to anyone who’s willing to entertain my wordiness. You there, you know who you are. And you’re awesome.
Until next time…
Rock ‘n Roll, betches!!!