Writers, from all accounts that I’ve found, are often stumped about what to write on their blogs. There’s no shortage of blogging going on in the universe, that’s for sure, but writers generally have a specific kind of writing they want to do.
Some bloggers offer helpful hints and inspiration. Tons of bloggers, certainly some of my favorites, share recipes and cooking tips. Some tell funny stories. Some are funnier than others. Some can barely spell but they have something important to say and they manage to get it out there on that massive information highway. Wordes, wrds, words. It’s all good, as my kids used to say.
Lots and lots of bloggers reveal personal information about their lives, their romantic breakups, their pets. They write touching stories about their children or parents or fighting their way back from illness or some other kind of challenge. These aren’t all writers, necessarily, but they’re bloggers. They want to share something with the world. A piece of themselves.
Then there are bloggers who write about blogging. It’s a business for some folks. I haven’t figured out how they make money at it, at least not on WordPress but a few of them are hugely successful at it.
My favorite bloggers are those who are able to bring together elements from each category and draw me in with compelling ideas and fascinating perspectives about their lives—or about all life.
I recently started this networking blog, separate from my writing blog and I commented to a fellow blogger that I wasn’t sure what to write about on it. His answer resonated with me:
Write your world for us. No one sees it like you do 🙂
And, he’s right. I’m sure I’d be locked up for a long time if anybody knew what really goes on in my head. My kids have told me for years what a weirdo I am. I’m okay with that. I like my life. While I spend most of my time alone, I’m not a hermit or a recluse and I don’t have phobias and I’m not anti-people. Necessarily.
I love people. In fact, I don’t know anybody else who loves people like I do. I love deeply and usually forever, I’m just not needy about it. I even love people who don’t love me back. Sure, there are plenty of folks in my life that I don’t love and I even have strong feelings of dislike with regard to a few people. I’d still put them out if they were on fire.
I am what I am ..
That’s not to say I am some kind of Pollyanna because I’m certainly not. One of my
husband’s cousins once called a me sailor and at first it so enraged me that I thought for a minute that I wouldn’t put him out if he were on fire. I calmed down and accepted that that’s just how he sees me and I supposed that there must be a reason he sees me like that. Either way. It’s all good.
So, taking the advice of my blogger friend I’ve decided to share a kind of day in the life of story about myself. Me, me, me. It’s like a verbal selfie. It is, more accurately, only a few minutes in the life of story. My actual days go on and on sometimes. It might be best described as an expose of my boomer vanity. A split-second snapshot of my own private insanity. I should probably be embarrassed but I’m not. Maybe it will resonate with other readers and writers who mostly love people and definitely love life. If it’s not well-received, I’m okay with that too. This is my life. I like it a lot.
It might help to read my short introduction, Another Introduction to understand that I’m old but I’m not a grey-haired old granny. I don’t want to be young again but I miss certain parts of my youth. Looking younger would be nice. I only worry about it in short snippets though, because again, I’m vain, but I’m happy.
For a peek inside 30 minutes of my day, take a look.
Five years ago I visited Mickey’s Surplus in Kansas City and found a sale on Carhartt overalls. I didn’t yet know the full impact of the Carhartt brand but I knew it was a pretty big deal because of a giant family riff some years earlier over a particular Carhartt jacket I’d found in a closet and given to the wrong male family member. He’d procrastinated about returning the jacket when the actual owner showed up and demanded it back. Took a while for that little deal to die down.
seen this play out, some kind of hell to pay. All of my grand kids enjoy this little activity as much as I do and we sit with our arms raised and follow along, folding down each of three fingers until we are left with a fist in the air. Silence Power!
Marriage. It’s a funny thing. I swore it off after the first time around but I eventually found another guy I figured I could tolerate. He liked me too, back then. Over the past 22 or so years our union has grown into a kind of mutual appreciation of the convenience and efficiency of coupling. That sounds a bit like a PVC elbow connection and I visualize the maze of grey and white pipes hanging under the ceiling joists in my basement. Not a very attractive image but fairly efficient. That’s our marriage. Functional. Efficient.
BzirkWorld 