Usually my life is so exhilarating I have to pick and choose what to write about. It’s not because I have that much going on that it’s hard to make that decision – but rather, there are just some things that are personal and private and as much as I want to write about them, I can’t. I have to be diplomatic and all that fun stuff. Yet, I don’t want to be that person that turns into a bitter cynical bitch where every time you click on this blog you get blasted with ugliness and a Debbie Downer vibe. No one likes ugly.
So I’ve been struggling lately on what to write about. Originally this was supposed to be my safe-haven where I could whine and complain about the job-market (or lack thereof). Then it turned into “Forest Gump meets Lucy Ricardo” with an occasional tirade on the Neander-fucks who roam Wal-Mart.
I convinced my friend to start a blog because he is genuinely a witty guy – and he opted to blog about blogs – go figure. That’s ingenious! I think. You can read it here if you want a good chuckle.
But where does that leave me? There are millions of blogs out there where the authors find anything and everything to write about; cooking, scrapbooking, kids, parenting, taxes, school, movies. I even found a blog where this gal writes about nothing. Literally. Nothing. I was so intrigued by her ability to not only babble on and on about complete nonsense but also build a fan base of over 300 followers that I found myself secretly stalking her blog just to see if she would have anything intelligent to say, then the other day, I clicked on her blog and I can no longer view her psycho babble. You have to be an “invited reader”. Really? I didn’t know you could do that! I’m sitting here struggling to keep my 12 readers entertained and yet her 300 readers are all now part of some elite uppity up club where they have been cordially invited to read her powerful words of “Today I wore white shoes with yellow pants.” (Applause)
Ok, I’ll slow the catty wagon down and calm myself a bit. I’ve thought about stirring the pot up and writing about different pop-culture items like fashion, for one. But if you know me, personally, you know that I don’t follow the secret fashion code. Tattered sweatshirts and jeans hardly makes me the ‘know all’ on stilettos and lipstick.
I then tossed around the idea of writing about school, since I have a 4th grader who is apparently learning Algebra 3 years before I did. I can’t even grade my son’s homework without looking up N.A.S.A. and asking them for their help. So I figured writing about that would make me look even less intelligent than my ‘non friend’ (above) so I figured I would stay away from that topic.
So I guess for now I’m stuck doing what I do best. Ranting. Bitching. Continuing down the slippery slope of the workout world and Wal-Mart dwellers. It’s what I do best. I’ll keep trying to find interesting things to vent about, but it’s pretty slim-pickings right now.
Stay tuned . . .