I may or may not have had a wee lil' bit of wine this evening.
This perhaps does not bode well as a prelude to a blog post, but I have it on good authority that you haven't filled your bucket list until you've written a blog post after one (mebbe two) too many glasses of cheap chardonnay.
You know, I write here about my personal life, and people are nice enough to stop by and comment here and there, and there are some folks who come by and almost never comment but stop every day or so and give my words a gander. And that's so incredibly nice. It feels good. We all like to have someone pay attention to us. Sometimes I think that blogging is my way of garnering a "hey girl" and a shoulder pat from time to time when my real-time life seems slow on handing out such badges. And blogging keeps me from focusing my efforts on any sort of real adult writing effort, because everyone who has ever wanted to write "for real" but wasn't sure how, likely shares the same fear I carry that I'm not really as good a writer as I want to be and I lack the time/energy/resources to really focus myself on becoming as good a writer as I want to be. This is my little outlet, this small wee blog toddling along in the margins of the world wide web. It gives me the illusion that I'm doing something worthwhile with my words, but the reality is that it just allows me to piss away time better spent doing other things. There are stalls to be cleaned, lawn to be mowed, dishes to be washed and floors to be scrubbed. So instead of going to bed at 9:30 when I actually should, I go to bed at 11 so I can do the chores and still have time to see what's happening on the damn internet.
Some people who are better writers than I, and some who are both marginally worse and sometimes (I know, this is not nice) terribly worse, these people have found a way to make an actual living blogging. They heavily pursue ad networks, they run giveaways and contests, they write more sponsored posts than original content, they bend whichever way the internet winds do bloweth, because at heart they all want to be the next Heather Armstrong or Jessica Gottlieb or Penelope Trunk. And before there were such things as sponsored posts and giveaways and ad networks, those bloggers were out there creating the path that eventually made it possible for them and for others to make a crapload of money by putting their words up on the web. And others came along and saw the way the wind was blowing and took note. The path to the Emerald City was glowing golden before them, and they hesitated not a moment before they embarked on their merry way to internet riches and fame (hopefully).
Hey, there's nothing wrong with having a goal, folks.
But success inevitably breeds contempt. And I have written before my feelings on the value of criticism and the necessity for strength in ones own beliefs and opinions as a precursor for successfuly surviving the inevitable negativity that presenting ones' life and opinions in a massively open and public forum will inevitably engender.
Just like here at home, though, no one ever listens to me.
I follow the drama and while at times it provides a respite from the actual serious drama of the minutiae of raising two very special people and trying to make sure every hungry animal on this small farm is fed before it starts feeding on the other animals on this small farm, sometimes it just makes me want to put my face in my hands and weep.
This fall we will vote for the next President. And while for most of us there is a clear distinction and a clear choice, I think we all know that the reality is we are choosing someone who, for us, is the lesser of evils, because our two-party system does not afford us the ability to effect real change by voting for this presidential candidate or that or by supporting this senator or that congressman. We all must realize, deep down, that our government is a vast wasteland and our country is in terrible crisis.
In our own cities and suburbs, in our country, around the world, there are men, women and children who are coping with violence, with hunger, with poverty. We have more able-bodied people than we have jobs. We have an environment in flux, whether you believe it is caused by humans or by a natural shift in the earth's weather patterns is irrelevant, because there are whole regions and millions of creatures who will be required to undergo significant change - perhaps even die out as a species - because they environment they have adapted to live in is disappearing. It doesn't really matter WHY the problem exists, it only matters that it does exist and that it will affect us, affect our children and our childrens' children.
This world is painfully full of parents who are struggling financially, emotionally, phsyically. Parents trying to raise a family on too little income, or parents trying to get services for kids who have needs beyond what most insurance companies and school systems can meet, parents trying hard to take an active role in their children's lives but who are struggling just to pay the bills and God knows its hard to find time to help with homework when you've worked all day and had a long commute, and then you've had to make dinner and do baths and do homework and yet you still feel like shit because you should have also gone to the PTO meeting like the rest of the parents who ARENT single or who have spouses who work locally.
And yet, the drama on this internet, it carries on. It supplants our very real and personal dramas, it tries to distract us from the deeper thing. We bloggers, we open our veins and bleed our lives out here for all and sundry to read. We relate truths or we invent truths, we have terrible problems which always result higher pageviews whether that was the intent or not. And yes, some bloggers invent drama just to create pageviews. I look for the good in people but we all know that this happens. And there are people who have bullshit meters or who don't buy into the fairy glitter of A list blogging, and they have the need to vent their spleens, and from time to time there is an event where the Ghostbusters accidentally cross the streams and the internet explodes.
Don't cross the streams.
It would be bad.
Thank you, Egon.
(And thank you Ghostbusters)
We need our entertainment. We love our celebrities and we love to hate them. We need sports and violence and for HBO and network TV to come up with the next hottest show because Oh My God if we don't have the distraction we won't be able to cope with our scary and difficult lives. We don't want to think about the million ways that humanity is suffering, because we can't do that 24/7 and still function in our lives. We need the drama like we need our oxycontin and our crack.
I am not taking sides. Or maybe I am taking both sides. I just don't get the need for the posturing.
And it all just makes me feel so jaded and cynical and tired.
I don't FUCKING CARE about your drama. I don't care.
You all make me so fucking exhausted sometimes.
If you've read this and you have no clue what I'm talking about, GOOD FOR YOU. The internet has not yet had its way with your innocence and beauty and I respect you so much for being innocent and pure that I want to kiss you on your face and throw rose petals at your feet, because you're still pure and you represent what we all were before Eve ate the apple. Don't you ever EVER change.