Everything I Need To Know I Learned By Blogging

Today marks the anniversary of my very first blog post.  On September 21, 2012 at 12:14, I nervously posted my very first post, which I called “Life, the Universe, and Everything,” a narrow enough topic.  It is scary putting yourself out there like that, and I’m always wary of bloggers, because most of them seem like self-obsessed publicity hounds, putting useless drivel out there in the bandwith of cyberspace with the mistaken impression that anyone gives a rat’s patootie about what they have to say.  I didn’t want to be one of those.

I always wanted to be a writer.  As a little girl I filled notebooks with stories, and kept detailed diaries, which thankfully can’t be found at the moment.  I cringe thinking about what might be in them.  Although I did find a red covered book I wrote in what appears to be first grade full of stories about witches who forgot to set their alarm clocks.  No, I will not be reprinting them here.  Alas, my practical parents and my fear of starvation led me to law school, and although I am still a professional writer of sorts, I primarily write things which, when received, will ruin people’s day.  Lawyers stir up fights, wage war, send NastyGrams, and generally end up elbow-deep in most of the unpleasantness that can be found.  So, I thought I’d even out some of that Karma by doing my best to write only about frivolous topics and make people laugh.

I’d like to say I’ve been pretty successful.  One of the things I am most proud of is that the people who comment on my posts (and, with only one exception, the comments have been entirely positive) are the same people who generally go at each other’s throats in political debates (which, although I occasionally have very strongly held opinions, I will never ever ever ever engage in, as a) I believe deeply in my heart that no one ever in the history of the universe has ever changed someone’s opinion by commenting on an article; b) I fight all day long for a living, I’m not doing it during my recreational time; and c) I have no interest in being called nasty names or having my intelligence questioned.  I get enough of that at work.)  Humor is the common ground: the bridge between warring parties.  What a pleasant change to be able to bring people together.

I’ve also learned quite a bit about myself while writing my narcissistic ramblings about absolutely nothing of substance whatsoever.  I’ve learned that there isn’t anything that can’t be boiled down into a food metaphor.  I like eating.  I have, over the past year, called myself fat (I mean, um, big boned), and acknowledged my chin hair and the effects of gravity on the aging female body, but I am perfectly ok with being an average looking schmo.  I’d call it body image problems, but it isn’t really a problem.  Take me or leave me.  Whatever.  I ain’t changing for you.  And I’m certainly not afraid to humiliate myself if it gets a laugh.

I’ve learned that I am as technologically sophisticated as the average Amish person.  I am socially awkward, and consider embarrassing my children with my awkwardness the highest form of entertainment.  I’m on the young side to be a curmudgeon, but, well, I’ve always been a bit precocious.  Also, whenever I leave my house it has a good chance of being a complete disaster.

I’ve learned that there is no chance at all that I will ever run out of material.  Generally speaking, I’ve got these posts written a month in advance I have so many backlogged.  This world is absolutely hilarious if you learn to look at it in the right way.  My friends and family have learned to be wary that anything they say or do might be in the next blog post.  I don’t usually name my friends unless I have permission, and most of them enjoy the shout out even if I don’t name them.  I guess we all like a little publicity.

I’ve also made friends on this journey.  Sharon Swanepoel, who was the editor when I started and up until a few weeks ago.  Jason Brooks, who I only met in person once and briefly, and who I’m still not entirely sure I’d recognize if I ran into him at Publix, responded to my post about what men should buy for their wives with a post of his own, which resulted in some back and forth postings which are still some of my absolute favorites.  Carole Townsend, who doesn’t post on the Patch, as she is a Real Published Writer with a Book Contract and actually gets paid to write and Blah Blah Blah, became my writing buddy.

I’ve learned that about one out of four posts I write is rejected by my screening committee, as it gets filed under, “You can’t post this.”  Usually no more explanation is necessary.  I’ve learned that the more ridiculous I think a post is, the more popular it is.  The more I like what I have done, the less anyone else seems to like it.

And, most importantly, I’ve learned that if I had a nickel for every time someone told me I should write a book, I’d have an awful lot of nickels, and could probably get out of the waging war for a living business.  Unfortunately, none of the people who have told me this either a) have the ability to pay me to write or b) have a cousin/friend/uncle they can introduce me to that can pay me to write.

In conclusion, I thank you very much for taking this ride with me, and I look forward to many miles ahead.  There’s no point in speaking to an empty room, and the fact that some of you are willing to sit in the chairs in my metaphorical room is still stunning to me.  I cannot believe that anyone gives a rat’s patootie about my inane ramblings.  Of course, since you do, or you wouldn’t have read this far down, please, dig deep into your address books or Outlook Contacts or whatever and find that fraternity brother or third cousin twice removed or neighbor that moved away three years ago who works in the publishing industry and let him know you’ve found the Next Big Thing.  And no, that isn’t a joke about the size of my rear.