"ignore the story. see the soul. remember to love. you will never regret it" --- Seane Corn
it's a jungle out there
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
My sidebar has no About Me thingy other than crazy is as crazy does.
Which, after all, is all there is to say.
I guess I figure if you read enough posts, you'll know all about me.
Ha. Not to hold anyone hostage or anything.
I blog to work my shit out. I blog for the reassuring Amen Sista comments.
I blog to hear you are not alone. I blog to hear thank god I am not alone.
I tell myself that followers and comments don't really matter. BULLSHIT.
But I have 2 of those counter things on my sidebar.
I tell myself it's cool to see the hits from other parts of the world or neat to track who's reading.
It's a damn popularity contest.
No matter how you cut it, blogging is a look at me endeavor.
Even if you don't like being looked at.
I don't particularly like being looked at. At least not in the physical world.
But I'll confess. I love comments and I love followers. big secret
A friend asked me a while back if I was on Facebook. I said are you kidding me? No way! Facebook makes me feel like I'm walking around without my clothes on.
He thought that was pretty funny given how...ummm...nekkid I am here on my blog.
I don't know. Facebook and Twitter are just not the same as blogland.
Another friend said if you go on Facebook, your blog will take off.
Memes I still don't know what that word means are a great way to spread the blog love in a multiple partner kind of way. I tried it for a while, but I just felt cheap. I prefer protection. Cybercondoms. I've never been a not unless I'm in love kinda girl, but when it comes down to it I'd rather keep my intimate bloggy fluids to myself.
I mean if I like you and you like me, I'm all for the overshare.
But there's nothing casual about Just Eat It.
I also know that if I go for the numbers, I'll edit my words.
And then this blog will cease serving it's purpose.
It's not a popularity contest. I mean not REALLY.
And I've never been a let's go shopping kind of girl. I don't think I could get a hundred followers even if I tried.
I tell myself I'm above seeking out approval and validation.
I left that shit behind 2 husbands ago.
I don't want to censor myself here. I do enough of that in the flesh.
I can't call the flesh-life real-life cause my posts are the real me.
It's where I put out my strength and weakness and fear and hope for almost anyone to see.
I have the best followers in the blogosphere. They give great comment.
They are wonderful, lovely, interesting people who leave wonderful, lovely, interesting comments.
And I follow them too. I worry about them. I cheer for them. I actually love them.
They're really smart and batshit crazy just like me.
There are also handful of face to face people who read my blog.
Most of them are family members.
Or having sex with family members. Or want to have sex with family members.
So when they say you should write a book I tell myself they have an agenda.
I wanted a more objective opinion.
So I justified my quest for approval with the URL iwillfuckingtearyouapart.
Can't get more objective than that.
And if I got torn apart it would serve me right for begging.
I'm not a writer. Maybe I'm a storyteller. Maybe. I'm mostly just a chick who found a really good way to work her shit out. And it turns out that sometimes I can make people laugh or cry or feel outrage or get goose bumps with my story-telling written words.
And that makes us all feel less alone.
I cannot tell stories with my mouth.
I'm the one who screws up the punchline and generally spazzes out if confronted by the spoken word.
"it occurred to me that the only real sin you can commit as a mother is to deny your children's right to be who they are and what they want to be and that the only real sin you can commit against yourself is to deny who you truly are and prevent yourself from being who that is"