While at this party the subject of blogging came up. I admitted that I am a blogger. I did make sure to emphasize the fact that I go through dry spells once in a while. Sometimes it is months between blog posts. Lately I have been pretty consistent. That's good. But it's all besides the point....
It was also mentioned at this party, that I feel pressure to be clever whenever I post something. It doesn't really come across in my posts because I'm not really a clever person but I still feel the pressure. It's heavy. This conversation, the one that occurred at the great party, led me to start thinking. Why do I blog?
I check the list of "My Favorite Blogs", seen on the right side of my blog, often. I like to read about the adventures of friends and family. I like it when someone on my list posts something new on their blog. It makes my day.
It used to be that once in a while I would get caught up in reading a bunch of random blogs about people I had never met. You can go on forever linking blog to blog to blog to blog reading about the lives of strangers. Whenever this would happen, you could bet I'd be starting to feel depressed and sorry for myself. I was bombarding myself with these snapshots into the lives of people who appeared to be perfect. They were clever, smart, beautiful, talented, funny, had perfect families, always seeming to be on vacation, etc. My life never seemed to be as cool as theirs. I don't like to feel sorry for myself. It's a yucky feeling. Strange thing is, I don't ever feel this way when I read the blogs of people I actually know. I guess it's because I know they are real people.
I put a stop to reading random blogs.
I've decided the reason I do this blogging thing is because I am hoping someone out there in the world who has me on their "My Favorite Blogs" list, looks forward to something new coming from me. If it makes my day when someone I know blogs, then maybe I can make some one's day just by posting on mine. Okay, that might be stretching my influence beyond where it realistically reaches, but it is fun to hope. Truthfully, I want to make people feel good when they read something I've posted. I never want them to feel sorry for themselves or depressed. I don't want my blog to be a place where only the really good stuff goes. I don't want it to be a place where I only rant and rave either. I want it to be the plain and simple truth. A place that is safe to be myself.
So today's post is to prove to everyone that reads this, stranger or no, that I am a real person who isn't always on vacation, whose kids aren't always perfect, who really isn't all that smart, or funny. I'm just average. Normal.
This is proof:
I am the kind of person who has "good" days.
I also have "bad" days.
I have "dirty kitchen" days. (Sometimes those lasts more than just a day.)
|My kitchen. This morning.|
I have "clean kitchen" days.
I have "huge piles of dirty laundry" days.
I have "fold the clothes when they come right out of the dryer" days.
I have "fend for yourself" days.
I have "Sure! I'll make dinner tonight" days.
I have "I'm ready to go by 6 a.m" days. (Kinda far between these ones.)
I have "I haven't had a shower yet" days.
I have "I'm not answering the phone" days,
I have "I'm happy to do that for you today" days.
I have "my house is a wreck" days.
I have "my house has been vacuumed" days.
I have "what is that smell?" days,
I have "I just weeded the garden" days.
I have "who lives at this house with the jungle in the backyard?" days.
I have "dirty car" days.
I have "clean car" days.
I have "I put on make-up" days.
I have "I'm letting my face breath" days.
I have "I think I killed that plant" days.
I have "I made that myself" days.
I have "I bought that and put it on a platter so it looks like I didn't buy it" days.
I have "yummy" days.
I have "I forgot to set the timer so I burned it" days.
I have "I yelled at my kids" days.
I have "my husband just brought me flowers" days.
You get the point. I win some and I lose some.
2. good days
3. friends who still love me even when I have "I forgot your birthday" days.