Wanna know what really sucks? I will tell you. It really sucks when you have a blog with hundreds of followers (thanks for that!) and suddenly find yourself unable to write anything that anyone might be even remotely interested in reading. Your head is awash in crap from all different directions but even you have limits in your sharing and now, on top of everything, the pressure to be insightful, witty and articulate eludes you. That, my friends is what sucks.
Rest assured, there are plenty of other suckish things going on, all of which I unload on my wonderful therapist (she’s mine, you can’t have her!) each week, but many are nobody else’s beeswax. That realization, for me – a sharer, is brutal since my inclination is to, well, share.
I have started several (as in six or seven) pieces and have abandoned each one mid sentence. Those abandonments have arrived for some after having written several paragraphs, for others in the first sentence or two. My mind wanders in a manner that is more akin to being suddenly stricken with short term dementia than day dreaming of Christian Grey. I go off on tangents that make absolutely zero sense. None. I had written a whole blog entry about my induction onto the world of kale and how that somehow reflected Jessie’s transition when I realized that it did little other than make me sound like a lunatic. There was another about the power of the word “no” (which I plan to revisit) which portrayed me as existing somewhere between two extremes: being a subservient wench and being a crunchy-granola-tree-hugging sixties leftover. I like to think that I fall somewhere in the decidedly more normal middle. Note to self: go back to that one someday.
As we speak, I am doing everything in my power to not curl up with this week’s issue of Us Magazine that just arrived at my house. Teresa Guidice graces the cover (if you do not know who she is, we may have to rethink this relationship. Okay, this once I will tell you – she is the crazy-assiest of all the Real Housewives franchise women which is saying a lot. If you do not know who the Real Housewives are, well, we might have a bigger problem…) and all I want to do is dig more deeply into her latest drama. The cover entices me with tales of her (moron) husband’s infidelities, illegalities and exploitation. It goes on to scream of her having been humiliated by her (moron) husband although I would argue that she does a stellar job of humiliating herself without his help. And, nearly equally compelling to learn more about: it seems that Reese Witherspoon’s father has a bit of a bigamy issue which needs to be dealt with. All these horrible life challenges, even for celebrities – I feel better already!
There, I (sorta, kinda) said it…there is a certain comfort in knowing that other people have problems, too. While mine are unlikely to wind up on the cover of Us Magazine (and I will never face the forehead challenges that Teresa does) they are kind of out there. So today’s blog is nothing other than dribble with a side order of self pity for a tough week. I hope you won’t hold it against me and will appreciate the suck-dom in which I am wallowing. I intend (hope) to be back to normal soon.
Now you will have to excuse me while I go find out more about Teresa. And did I mention that, and this may come as a shock, some of the Kardashians (I cannot tell them apart) are on the cover, too! At least no one has thrown flour at me. Yet.