Start at the beginning
I started using blogspot when I was 12. It had bits of shoddy poetry, accounts of tedious family vacations to Vegas among other hogwash, amounting to over 200 posts in 3 years. Here is a typical nonsensical sample from age 13 that I have absolutely zero recollection of:
Ode To Be
The cat’s cave
Waterfall, kerplunk, kerplunk
West of the lake
South of the forest
One man’s journey to search for an answer.He needed the pen
To save that hook
Dangling off that wall
The puzzling question
As long as a mile
A spaceship full of curiosityToo complex for the grown adult
If drawings could suffice
The puzzle could be unlocked
With his key
The shape of a star
Makings of a responseA response waiting to finish its work
Carefully crafted by the decomposers
Broken down
Rebuilt
Destroyed
Assembled.Plop go the facts
Splat go the adjectives
The downfall of the man with errorsOnly terminal,
Only terminal.
Lately, I've been writing. An embarrassingly copious amount. I've always kept journals; this is different.
I'm a stay at home mom. My days are shaped by the quantity of milk teeth present (current count at 28.5), spots of fecal matter on various surfaces and clothes that I have to remember to go back to sanitize before someone has a chance to eat food off of said surface, and rotating lists of groceries, laundry, preschool pickup schedule, bills. Fine tuning the frequency at which to call my mother to achieve the least ratio of nagging possible. Learning to add divorce jokes into my repertoire to survive the siege that is marriage.
In the past three years, I've been tired. More on that in the future, perhaps.
Now, I'm sleeping, again. And my 'old' pre-baby brain feels back.
So my first instinct was to write emails. I'm scared to actually write, so I write emails.
I've had various pen pals as long as I can remember, paper ones, emails ones. Some just polite acquaintance, some people I saw regularly so the exchanges were ridiculously redundant. Some confidantes.
One special one. You know who you are.
To all my friends who received my long, rambly, disjointed missives, thank you for reading them.
To all my friends who are too busy to write me back beyond the polite 'I read this!', I guess it wasn't meant to be and I've made my peace with it. I've been searching for answers in the wrong place.
I've been asking "do you ever feel..." and the query is too damn specific, and no one in their right mind would respond 'yes'.
Do you ever feel... like a blog is the most terrible joke of an idea that your silly husband has proposed, and you try it anyway?