On Monday, I returned after a week and a half hiatus with an excused absence slip. The slip said something like, "Big Daddy is home, and when Big Daddy is home Big Daddy demands my attention and Big Daddy deserves my attention." It could have also read, "Damn! After eleven baseball/lacrosse games, eight Zumba classes, three track meets, two girls' night's out, two parties to attend, one sacrament to celebrate and entertaining out-of-town guests (yes, all within ten days) - Mama is just too tired to type!
All of this is true, but there are a couple of other reasons why Aleighopolis was under quarantine...
First, I give you blogger's remorse. Why am I spending my days writing fluff for no apparent reason other than entertainment (most, of which, is mine)? I touched on this Monday, and many of you came to the defense of blogging, and eloquently commented on the needs of us to do so. Blog. And comment. We just do. Okay...good enough for me.
Secondly, truth be told, I became frozen stiff in cyberpeer pressure. Short story long, one of my blogging buddies is a real-life buddy who happened to have a real-life career as a writer in a real-life newspaper. Think Marley & Me with no dog. Well, actually, there IS a dog, but he wasn't the constant focus. I digress. She has been blogging for awhile, and has come into contact with many fellow writers. It's natural that writers would find a home in the blogging world. They trade insights and inspirations all of the time on their posts and comments. They use jargon like WIP's and queries. They hold contests for judging critiques and do guest-blogging at each other's sights and so on and so forth.
What the ?!?
How did little 'ole me with no focus or purpose get mixed up with this astute cluster of scribes?!? Don't get me wrong. These people are FABULOUS and I enjoy them immensely. I "follow" several of them who have caught my fancy. I am giddy with delight when one finds their way to Aleighopolis and takes the time to sign my guest book (leave a comment).
But there's this other thing that austere bloggers do. And here's where the pressure got to me.
They give out awards.
Lots of them.
For best doodle and sweetest remarks and prettiest handwriting and all kinds of things.
They give out awards, and if you receive one, you're expected to pass it along. Like a chain letter. It all seemed very sweet and encouraging in the beginning, but then it took a peculiar turn. It felt a bit gratuitous. And then a little incestuous.
YIKES! Now I've done it! I've offended the cool kids! They'll never let me sit at their lunch table again!!!!! What was I thinking?!?
Lucy, let me 'splain...I get that we're all just sharing the blogger love. Helping to promote each other's sites and their subsequent works in progress. Keeping things real, all the while rosy. Please.
I am a former cheerleader who's favorite tv show is Glee and all kidding aside, I truly love my life. Positivity is a daily goal of mine. A splash of sarcasm and a love of dirty dancing are the only things that keep my skin from glowing like a neon pink sign. Rose-colored glasses? I got your roses.
But the passing around of clip art awards was wearing me down, peeps (may I still call you peeps? do you hate me now? the cheerleader past was the nail in the coffin, am i right?). I am still trying to understand blog etiquette (is that a mushroom cloud above my head where a light bulb should be?) It was feeling like a "you scratch my blog and I'll scratch yours" kind of deal with the followers and following and contests and giveaways and awards and acceptance posts. I blame no one but myself for these overwhelming considerations. Again, it was just that kind of week. General chaos leading to....well...you know...blog, interrupted.
I needed to catch my breath.
I have.
I needed to remember why I bother doing this.
Actually, I still need to FIGURE OUT why I'm doing this.
I think I'm just having a conversation, one-sided as it may be.
I'm hanging with friends and family. And with you. If you're still there. Hello? Are you still there?
I wish I had a WIP.
