Tag Archives: blogging

Do You Like Me?

I purposely kept my wrist off my forehead yesterday so I could indulge in Wrist to Forehead Sunday today. Of course it might not have been necessary. I had planned a couple of Mohawk Valley adventures I could have written about. Unfortunately, they fell through. Blame the weather, blame my sinus headache (which was perhaps caused by the weather), or blame me. Whatever. The fact is, my husband is due home from work in about ten minutes and I want to have my blog post done and published so I can enjoy some time with him.

I’ll just mention as an aside here, we are celebrating our Anniversary Eve today. It’ll be 24 years tomorrow. In your face, divorce rate! As I think about this wonderful man with whom I share my life, my house, my dog, and my wine, I feel increasingly less wrist-to-foreheady. However, I felt marginally distressed earlier, so I’ll just rattle off a paragraph or two about that.

I was reading some other blogs. I don’t always have the time to do this, but I have a few I Follow, and I try to check out bloggers who have Liked my posts. I always feel so flattered to get Likes. Almost like I’m doing something right, which regular readers know is something that rarely happens. WELL, there I was reading a post when I discovered that SOME bloggers Like posts without actually reading them. Can you imagine such a thing?

This does explain a couple of times when I have gotten a Like almost immediately after hitting Publish. While it affords a certain satisfaction to have something explained, I can’t help feeling a certain dissatisfaction with the explanation. Luckily I don’t feel too awful about it. With my low self-esteem, I could easily flash back to the elementary school playground when, as too often happens in the schoolyard, someone I thought was a friend would suddenly do something mean to me.

“But I thought you LIIIIKED me!” I don’t remember if I actually wailed that line, with or without the extra syllables in “like,” but there’s a good chance I did. And you thought I was such a tough broad (nobody needs to tell me that they never thought that for one day ever in their lives).

I think miffed is a better term for the way I feel about it, now that I have reached middle age. I won’t say I’ve gained maturity exactly, but I admit to a certain level of contentment with my immaturity. We’ll call it perspective.

What was my point? Ah yes, merely to hit Publish before my husband got home. I didn’t make it. But I’ll hit Publish now, and we’ll talk more about this later.

Don’t Quit My WHAT?

Yesterday I made an almost superhuman effort to make a post that was not a Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Oh dear, I can hear the critics sniffing that if that was the result of superhuman effort, I shouldn’t quit my day job. I hate that joke about don’t quit your day job. It is so overused and almost never appropriate.

Ooh, I see myself going off on a tangent that just might pass as a Monday Middle-aged Musing. Don’t quit your day job. I HAAAATE that joke! (Yes, I just said that in the preceding paragraph; it bears repeating.) If you sing a little snatch of song, somebody is bound to say it. Did I say I was auditioning for American Idol? NO! Did I even imply I thought my voice was any good? NO! You just want to be mean by pointing out the obvious fact that I am not Gloria Gaynor.

The last time a fellow at work said it to me, I said, “Don’t quit yours to become a stand-up comedian!”
It was not the devastating comeback it had seemed in my head.

Another time the line was said to me was in an employment office. I was desperate to leave my retail job for one with more human hours. The big jerk supposedly trying to help me kept saying, “Don’t quit your day job.” It wasn’t a day job, for heavens sake! I wanted to find a day job! That’s what I was hoping this yahoo would help me with!

Just listen to me, shouting at a memory. For heavens’ sake, I have a day job now. Get over yourself, Cindy!

OK, I’m better now.

And as I get over my little tantrum, I admit that currently nobody is actually advising me not to quit my day job (Shut up! You don’t need to!) (You know who you are). That was a hypothetical critic who, truth be know, lives primarily in my head. Which, incidentally, has a headache again today. That is why I am typing in this nonsense instead of writing a good blog post.

Hope to see you all on Tuesday, which I hope will NOT be Tired Tuesday.

Sweats On, Bra Off

Sorry folks, but I’m taking my Wrist to Forehead day today instead of Sunday. Look at the time! It’s after 6 o’clock! I should be in my sweats on, bra off, wine drinking, movie watching portion of the day. This is what I look forward to on a Saturday night. Oh, sometimes something more exciting beckons. But this is what I like.

The sad thing is I had a wonderful Mohawk Valley adventure earlier and I wrote over 800 words about it. I could post them as a blog post, but I feel strangely disinclined to do so. Must let the words simmer. They may appear here at a later date.

What I find truly sad here is that my usual finding has been disproved. Usually if I write something, anything, I can just keep writing. I’ve done it here. My first paragraph laments that I have nothing to say, then I go at some length in fact saying something (of varying degrees of interest, I admit, but let’s not begin that argument). Instead, I feel written out. I can find no words to recount any of my recent adventures. I can find no words to poke fun at this malaise. I call that a wrist to forehead situation.

On the brighter side, dinner is in the oven, my husband is home, World’s Dumbest is on the television, and I’ve typed in at least 200 words of this nonsense. I’m going to go put my sweats on.

What’s Wrong with Foolishness, Anyways?

I said I was not going to make any promises about Lame Post Friday and how right I was! At one point I actually thought there was a SLIGHT chance that I MIGHT come up with something not too contemptible to write about, but, well, it didn’t happen. I spent my breaks at work trying to write a letter to my sister and working on crossword and cryptogram puzzles (I’m getting really good at cryptograms) (although perhaps I flatter myself).

In my defense (yes, here I go with the excuses again) (go ahead, shake your head, your finger or your booty; you know the drill), I have suffered from headaches all week. What’s that all about? The changing weather, I suppose. I will add that I feel fortunate that I went a long time with very few headaches and that so far none of them have reached what I think of as nightmare proportions. So much for complaining (my older sister — not the one I was writing the letter to — says the more you complain, the longer God lets you live).

So here I am rattling on, feeling a bit sheepish that I shall post yet more foolishness. Then again, I always say go with your strengths. And once again, a virtue of my silly posts: I try to keep them short.

Not Blankety-Blank Much

Some bloggers only post weekly or three times a week or whenever the spirit hits them. Sometimes I wish I was some bloggers. Other times I feel kind of proud of myself for posting something every day (except for the day the big tree got hit by lightning and the electricity went out till morning; then I was late). I must confess: today is one of the former kind of days.

At least it started that way. I must further confess: as soon as my fingers started typing, the fascination with the blog kicked in again and now I’m thinking, “What can I come up with today?” I’m a little afraid the answer will be, “Not blankety-blank much.” But one must carry on.

In my defense, it is Wuss-out Wednesday (ooh, here’s a Freudian typo: Wuss-pout. I fixed it, though). I know I do a lot of blog posts about not writing a better blog post. I feel guilty about it, but, you know, not guilty enough to stop.

The funny thing is, I worked hard on my blog post yesterday. I tried to write it at work but did not succeed. I typed in the paragraph I had written, then tried to compose a little more, got bogged down, persevered. Several times I thought, “Oh, I can’t do this properly today. I’ll save the draft and write a foolish post for today, then fix it tomorrow.” But I had a rehearsal to get to and not much confidence in my ability to be amusing in a foolish post.

I can hear the nay-sayers now, saying (in addition to “nay”), “About that… you’re not being particularly amusing today, now, are you?”

I reply that I do not think that is a very nice thing to say. Stick to a simple “Nay” if you must. Or practice the art of silence.

The nay-sayer pounces on this: “That’s it! The Art of Silence! That is what you should do! Get on that now!”

I think we all know that is not going to happen. However, in the interests of readers who prefer a more substantive blog post, I will endeavor NOT to have Non-Sequitur Thursday this week.

About Lame Post Friday, I make no promises.

Middle-aged Musings on Age

How fortunate that I have back pain today. Yesterday (and the day before) I blamed my difficulty writing on my sinus headache. It led me to wonder if other kinds of pain were better or worse to write under. Who knew I would get a chance to find out so soon?

Well, I guess I knew I’d get a chance. Middle-age has been hitting me with both barrels lately. You know that expression, “Live fast, die young and make a good-looking corpse.” I apparently did not live fast enough to die young, yet not slow enough to age gracefully. Then again, when have I ever done anything gracefully? (For those of you not well-acquainted with me, the answer is almost never.)

Before you all conclude that I am an unmitigated kvetch, I’d like to just say I am laughing at myself. I don’t mind being 50. I think it’s kind of fun. I like my grey hair. I’m hoping to experience some of them there hot flashes this winter when my place of employment gets really cold. I can’t say I’m nuts about the extreme difficulty in losing weight, but you can’t have everything.

Earlier today I said to a co-worker, “Getting old ain’t for sissies. I like saying that. It makes me feel bad-ass for having back pain.”

So here is my Monday Middle-aged Musing for the week: yes, I can write a blog post with back pain.

Brain, Where Are Your Now?

Here we are, on another Wrist to Forehead Sunday, and I have a bad case of type it in, backspace it out. It’s worse than Writer’s Block, not as bad as Writer’s Blank. One must count one’s blessings after all.

I feel my brain has been deserting me lately. Part of the problem is the changing weather. Sinus pain is kind of hard to think around. It’s too close to the brain. Hmmm, now I’m asking myself: can I really write better with back pain, stomach pain, foot pain, pains in the ass? Must do a study. First bit of information: not easy to write with sinus pain. I’ll make a note of that. Maybe start a new Pain Notebook and get all scientific about it.

Be that as it may, I need to type in something I can publish today. Incidentally, I’m not in sinus pain right now. However, I conquered the pain with a decongestant, which dopes me out. It’s kind of fascinating, this spacey, light-headed feeling. But not easy to write.

I did write a little bit today: I finished a letter and wrote two postcards. As you may guess, that did not involve a lot of words. And I’m not convinced they were particularly memorable words. Still, with personal mail, you can get away with that. You know the recipient will be happy just to get real mail. If it’s any good to read, that’s just gravy.

And now I see I am over 200 words. Phew! I can get back to my Sunday, which will involve the viewing of Halloween movies. Happy October, everyone!

A Day in the Life of Me

Alas, it is another Saturday without Saturday Running Commentary. I did not even take a walk with Tabby or write post cards to walk to the post office with. It was pouring rain and I had a sinus headache. I must say I felt rather ill-used about it, because I have had one every day this week (headache, not rain. I don’t mind the rain). At least, I don’t know if it’s sinuses. It could be a migraine or tension or cluster or just a common or garden headache. IT DOESN’T MATTER!

In light of my aches and pains, I will offer a brief summary of my day’s activities. I had some coffee and took a hot shower in hopes of alleviating the headache. I know there are also drugs for these things, but I have indifferent success with those so only use them as a last resort.

I spoke on the phone with my mother, one sister and my friend Phyllis. I almost always talk to Mom on a Saturday. I talked to my sister to get some feedback on whether or not I should have a Halloween party this year (probably not). I hoped Phyllis would accompany me to an exhibit opening at Mohawk Valley Center for the Arts in Little Falls (she was busy).

I felt I should try to do something blogworthy in spite of my headache, so I went to a rummage sale going on at Christ Episcopal Church in Herkimer. This is where I go to church, when I go to church, so I knew some of the ladies there. They told me I should return at 11 for the Blessing of the Animals (I didn’t, which is too bad, because I could have written a blog post about it).

I looked all around the sale. I was hoping to find some clothes suitable for ragging up to be my Third Witch costume for the scene from MacBeth I am in later this month. I purchased a purple graduation gown for a person 5′ 8″ to 6′. I don’t imagine I will use it as a witch, but if I do have a Halloween party, can’t you just picture Steven as the One-Eyed One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater?

Returning home, my headache was no better. I thought, black and white movie, cup of hot tea, sit on the couch and crochet the day away. I chose Dementia 13, part of a collection of Horror Classics. I’ve seen it before, but there were many parts I did not remember. I paused it when Steven came home for lunch.

After Steven returned to work and I watched the rest of the movie, I changed my shoes and once again ventured out. For one thing, I had to pick up a prescription. I also got a decongestant. I don’t remember what kind, but I had to bring a card to the pharmacist for it. I haven’t taken any yet.

Then I thought, oh what the hell, and went to Little Falls. It was a nice drive down Route 5S, although with less rain I could have appreciated the colored leaves more. I had a lovely time at the exhibit opening. I intend to write a blog post about it (preview of coming attractions).

Before returning home, I stopped at the grocery store. I had neglected to bring the list with me with the result that I remembered everything except dog treats. Tabby was nevertheless happy to see me when I returned home (she isn’t completely out of treats anyways). My headache had subsided but not left completely. I determined to write my blog post while debating the comparative merits of coffee, tea and wine.

And that bring us to the present time. I think now I will compile a list of all my activities in the last week or so that I intend to write a better blog post about. Or I will watch another horror movie and crochet some more. I hope you’re all enjoying your Saturday.

Blame the Red Cross

I was afraid this would happen. You see, there was a blood drive at work today. I gave blood, because I wanted to save a life. And now I feel awful.

Since I was afraid of this happening, I tried to plan ahead. I tried to write something before work, so I would only have to type it in. I was even going to keep it short. It was very short. I only got to the second paragraph and ran out of steam. I couldn’t do a thing with it.

Given how tired and stupid I felt, one might have suggested I refrain from giving away a pint of blood. Given how after every time I’ve given blood in the last three years I’ve felt quite awful, one might have suggested that I refrain from giving any more away. But still, I wanted to save a life.

And now I think I am being unbearably pretentious. I saved a life today. I felt awful after doing it, but I did it anyways. Didn’t that sound smug? Oh dear, how embarrassing. I don’t mean to sound smug. I don’t mean to sound any way at all. I’m just sitting here with my head spinning (although at a slower rate than previously; these things do get better), typing away, trying to get to 200 words so I can go one more day of making a blog post.

Well, as I said parenthetically, these things do get better. Tomorrow I am going to write a good blog post! I hope somebody will still be reading.

Fool for Thought

Wrist to Forehead Sunday morphs painfully into Middle-aged Musings Monday. Well, I’m still middle-aged, but I don’t have any musings. Instead I have a bad case of “I Can’t Write About THAT!” It is paralyzing.

Ah, but perhaps I could go on for a paragraph or two about the feeling that one “can’t” write about something.

Some writers feel you should be able to write about anything at any time. We won’t deal with those annoying overachievers (and they are mostly “do as I say, not as I do” anyways). However, there is also the school of thought that the things you find scary to write about are the very things you ought to be writing about. That is where your passion and your energies lie.

Perhaps it is so. Perhaps if I wrote about my innermost thoughts and feelings I would come up with something really powerful and moving. Or I might just sound like a fool. Oh wait, I do that anyways (some of you were about to say that, if you didn’t actually beat me to it)(you know who you are).

Another school of thought says you must wait until you are ready to write about some things. Ernest Hemingway deals with this school of thought in A Moveable Feast. Only I can’t remember quite how he puts it and I’ve lost my copy of the book (yes, here’s the part where I sound like a fool). Something to the effect that he can write about this other place when he is in Paris and later on he will be able to write about Paris (yes, I did sound like a fool. Damn).

I’m afraid my reasons for not wanting to write about the things I’m not writing about today are not so writerly (I’m sure that is a word, although my computer says not). I don’t want to write about the things I mentioned earlier because, well, quite frankly, I’m afraid they would be boring. Or tiresome. Or stupid.

Oh dear, I hope what I did write was not boring, tiresome or stupid. It was foolish, you say? Oh well, I guess I can live with that.