It feels like ages since I last opened up in a blog post. Since the start of the year all I seem to have done is turn the pedals of the internet – doing the minimum amount possible to play a part, quietly over here in the corner where hopefully not many people will notice. I changed usernames, account names, URLs and identities to hide from those that know me in the real world – to give me the opportunity to unburden my thoughts from time to time.
Now I’ve constructed some anonymity, I’m too paranoid to use it. The moment I write anything even vaguely controversial, I’m pretty sure some asshole will come out of the woodwork and shit all over everything.
I struggle to find things to write about these days. I’ve never been entirely comfortable telling stories about my family, because the children’s story is their own to tell – I always cringe when I read other people’s posts, prostituting their children’s lives to garner attention for themselves. I get it though – sometimes I’m incredibly proud of the things my kids have accomplished, and wish I could shout it from the rooftops – but I don’t. I keep quiet.
I guess the end result is a blog about nothing in particular. Friends sometimes remark that I seem particularly skilled at filling blog posts with nothing of consequence. Perhaps it’s a skill. Hardly a marketable skill though – unless there’s a call in the publishing world for somebody that can fill a few inches of blank space in a page with utter nonsense. That’s half the journalists working for tabloid newspapers though, isn’t it ?
Maybe I should just give in with any pretence of writing an original, personal blog, and write paid for articles about pretend clothes buying hauls, complete with video, pictures, and nonsensical conversation about boutique restaurants I visited for lunch today. Anybody that knows me will know it’s all made up though (just like all the rest), because the reality is invariably that I either sat on a train for half the day, or spent the last several days headbutting the keyboard in-between either doing chores, or gnawing my own arms off while on conference calls.
p.s. if you’re reading this and taking it all literally, please go look up “sarcasm” and “self deprecation” in a phrase book of conversational English for people with any sense of humor what-so-ever. And please send me a few copies to give to people I might or might not know.