November 9th, 2005
The Bitch Is Back
Perhaps part of my blogstipation of late is comparative. I’ve been trolling the blogosphere, reading all the witty incisive slang-term-laden commentary out there, and wow does it make me feel like a big loser writer. I don’t use cutting-edge creative words like “asshat,” “schmoopy,” “ginormous,” or “fucktard.” I don’t have any cute toddler or he’s-a-crazy-man-my-DH-but-he’s-mine-all-mine-n-I-love-’m anecdotes to share. Reading the lefty blogosphere, you’d think we’re all sarcastic black-garbed espresso-swilling commercial artists, or sweet-small-town-dwelling telecommuting daddy-bloggers, or some combination thereof.
Not only that, such overexposure also leads me to suspect that I’m the only one who thinks the way I do. Besides all the hetero-nuclear-family-think, the lefty politicoblogs leave me cold because I don’t give a hill of beans about what they call “current events”– I barely know who Harriet Miers is, let alone what my opinion is of her nomination or lack thereof–and wouldn’t give the contents of the catbox for the opportunity to argue about such with right-wing trolls.
And yet I do care passionately, and am extremely opinionated, about human society and social policy. Which brings me to what I believe is the second damper hovering over this blog of late—the fear of offending any of the intrepid readers I have managed to glean, many of whom, you may be surprised to learn, I actually care about. Not only has this fear resulted in a lack of blogging, I think it’s also responsible for what even I would agree are the mundane to inane topics of my posting over the last few months. What a choice I’m faced with—say what I think and lose readers out of pique, or write nothing/stupid drivel and lose readers out of boredom?
So finally it comes to this, my dears: I’ve never been able to play with the cool kids. You’d think high school would have cured me of any aspirations in that regard long ago. However, I can no longer tolerate the mental/emotional constipation, the psychic contortions and self-stifling I’ve been engendering in the futile attempt to never say anything that will piss anyone off. So, here’s my blogular declaration of intellectual independence. If you are my friend, you know it. You also probably already know that we don’t agree on everything. My expounding herein upon some opinion of mine that you do not share will probably not come as a surprise to you. It may also come to pass that I use something you’ve said or done as a lead-in to said expounding. This may be unfortunate, but isn’t that what writers do, mine their interactions and the lives of those they know for interesting material? I promise not to identify you when I record your latest faux pas or irritating comment for global Internet viewing posterity. I apologize in advance for what may seem to some a gross failure of ethics, manners, and good taste, and in my own defense the best I have to offer is a bit of my mom’s homely wisdom—if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.
