Starting a blog was supposed to be therapeutic for me . I’m not going to lie, it hasn’t been . It was supposed to be a way for me to express myself with a mindful audience and to make a connection with others who can relate . It was supposed to replace social media and the need for likes on my Facebook posts . Now I watch the likes on my blog posts more obsessively than I ever did on Facebook. I’ll let the likes tell me if I can actually write or I just think I can . I’m not sure if you are the same but validation from strangers is the new popularity contest and I want to be the prom queen.
So far , I’m not even in the queen’s court yet much less in the running. I’m sure that you can relate with the need for validity from other writers. But it’s not the reason you write or is it ? If no one liked a book , would anyone want to be an author ?
I’m still not sure I’d be happy if I had a million followers but I’m going to set my focus on getting one more .
My most important follower needs to be myself.
Never one to be silent, I laughed out loud . In not trying to laugh, I made a embarrassing moment even worse . When people turned around, I covered my mouth and pretended I was coughing instead. All choked up . Funerals aren’t supposed to be sad . They are meant to celebrate life and not mourn the end of one . I didn’t get to say goodbye to my grandfather before he died. So he said it for me in a Willie Nelson song. “On the road again “ is the reason I smiled ,then laughed at my truck driving grandfather’s funeral.
Today instead of being the unenthusiastic, apathetic helper of the brewmaster (my husband), I am the boss of the beer.
Meaning I am doing my best to be a good steward of this secret and revered beer society . It’s hard for me to focus on this project. There’s a lot of sitting around waiting on science to do its thing.
Yes ,I said science . What I thought of just beer has changed now because it’s actually really involved and interesting. It involves math and stirring things and checking temperatures and other stuff. For thirty minutes I am busy doing beer stuff.
Every time my husband is doing the things that I am in charge of , I pretend like I knew I was supposed to do it.
Finally , a break. It’s time to add some fire and do absolutely nothing .
Remembering that a watched pot never boils , neither does a watched brew pot .
My husband has a little ditty that he says . You might have heard it before .
“Bubble bubble toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”
The first time I saw his magic spell casting , I fell in love all over again . Reciting Shakespeare while brewing beer is my idea of a perfect man.
He forgot to remind me to do it . I remembered a little late and then got the words wrong . I think Shakespeare would be okay with my improv . At least I have an excuse for my beer if it sucks .
And we are still waiting . I have time to file my nails , read a book and take over the world after my nap . By then I’ve forgotten the next step in the brew cycle.
Not really. Because my husband has already anticipated this and is set up for it.
I am excited because not only am I almost done with my brew lesson ,I’m almost done.
Then into the last part , equipment failure causes a close catastrophe . Instead of calling it a loss , my husband adds some secret potion to the salvaged part and after many curse words , my attempt at a true Gose is in a glass carboy for it’s first fermentation .
In summary, I’m not sure that I’m going to be the home brewing type. I’m all for the end product but it’s not going to be a hobby for me.
But who knows , maybe I just need to work on a beard to get into it .
First let me say that I love my readers and appreciate your comments so much! Keep them coming .
Conversations for one are not a thing, you say . Wrong.
We don’t live in the same world ,obviously.
Briefly , a top ten list of the one sided conversationalists that I know:
- Crazy cat ladies
- Psychotic driver I cut off yesterday
- My husband
- My mother
Again, all joking aside , I disagree with the argument of the theory of non existent singular conversations.
I’m having one with myself right now .
Do you know how to spell?
Are you from Texas?
Then grab a Lone Star , your spit cup and covered wagon and join me for the first annual “Texans can spell “campaign .
Again for the foreigners ( anyone who is not Texan ), I’ll texanize this so ya’ll get it.
I’m sorry I was blessed with the state of Texas as my home . I’m sorry you weren’t .
I’m not really a bless your heart kind but I’m not going to tell you twice that being Texan doesn’t make you stupid or uncultured or backwards or illiterate. I have been to school and I can spell . I don’t live in a barn with my cows that I have to milk before walking five miles uphill both ways in the snow to catch the pony express . I’m not married to my dad (anymore ) and I have all of my teeth. I don’t have a horse, oil wells, or a tractor.
I do have a double wide with an underground compound to protect me from aliens, dinosaurs and people who are assholes . ..not really . Just assholes.
And I can spell words bigger than my hair .
Bless your heart ❤️.
I was lamenting my lack of suitably hilarious and interesting matters to bore you with when my mom dropped a bit of lmfao my way .
I know everyone has that family member who struggles with social media and we all let them . Don’t lie.
I now have one too but he’s funnier than yours , I promise.
I had sworn off Facebook to focus on my writing. I know , I’m a pretentious brat. I’m back now . A circus sideshow was born and I had to come out . It’s not healthy to stay in the closet.
Apparently my mother’s sibling announced his arrival on Facebook by asking “where all his kinfolks at” and here’s what he learned. They were hiding .
Legit question . Evidently Uncle K. didn’t know we were there… reading his Facebook posts and laughing at his cute virgin social media doings. Facebook had been full of bullies and drama but now it was fun again . I’m not really sure who told my uncle K about Facebook but they didn’t tell him how to Facebook.
His wall consists of the following cute funnies and I’ve added some of the things that they might mean to the Facebook world.
- Liking his own posts …. might be that he has good self- esteem and confidence building skills
- Using Instant messenger like a text randomly on the internet so that you can find your people … might mean you are displaying psychic ability with dolphin sonar
- Answering his own posts might mean great problem solving, high intelligence or dementia or he has lsd latent hippie syndrome
My Uncle K has no idea how his life is going to change. Oh ,Uncle and you thought the sixties were all about love . Facebook is all about likes ! Facebookleads us to delusional states of euphoria caused by fake friends but you have fun with it .
My uncle won’t use it to be mean or hateful or gossip about Kim K. and he doesn’t care if you like his posts . He likes them . And to show my support as only his favorite niece can, I liked everything that anyone else put on his wall too . I used emoticons and my brother and I added memes to our comments also .
But Facebook is not ready for such superpowers. I’m not going to lie . That’s why I left Facebook. I’m too enlightened and deep to care about what you digested last night. I have a blog. Sooo there.
But I’m going to be like my Uncle K.
Just let me know if you want to join us in our quest for a new Facebook. One where social isn’t part of the media and your validation is all you need.
Tardy Via the Daily Prompt
She ran her fingers through her hair impatiently and cursed the foggy mirror . “This had better be good , ” she mumbled to herself. Running the two red lights and brake checking it’s fifty residents before pulling into an empty space, her mood was dark like the ugly sky.
“I’m here ,” she furiously yelled into the phone and then tossed it inside her purse .
Racing frantically through the empty (?) halls , she bolted through the laboratory door hoping that she was not too late .
“We started without you ,” a female voice softly said while turning to face her .
Anna froze as she stared at her own image who was smiling benignly at her .
The door locked behind her as she took her seat.
I learn the most interesting things at Wal-Mart. I guess I’m not very good at stopping the “too much information ” train-wreck . I don’t want to seem rude when they obviously want to share something with me .
Today I learned the allergies of my checker. Now I know that a Hawaiian ginger , vanilla , cigarette smoke scented candle is not a good gift. She has some other allergies that she can’t remember but I hope she’ll be okay if she suddenly is exposed to one of them .
Fortunately for her , I always have an epipen on hand so she’ll survive long enough to finish checking my groceries.
“Thanks for the tip , I see you really want a piece of pie.”
“But I don’t work here. Leave me alone ,” she furiously
I’m going to have a conversation today . I’m going to start a conversation today . I’m going to be in a conversation today .
This was her goal and she was so embarrassed to say it but the thought of talking to people made her sick.
I do not hate people. I am socially awkward but not a sociopath. No matter what my mother says . I am not a crazy girl and I am not going to stay in the closet, mother! because I am going to have a conversation today .
I made a list of the things I want to accomplish this year . I’m excited to share it with you .I’ll let you know when I finish it .
Starting this blog has been a headache inducing , stressful and enlightening experience. I guess I had no realistic expectations for it , I assumed that being a somewhat decent writer was enough . I also didn’t think that planning was necessary, I preferred to wing it and I just wanted to write , after all . I wasn’t trying to change careers, this was a hobby that was supposed to be therapeutic as well .
I guess some people are just going to take the roads less traveled… like the roads not even paved. I’m not sure I expected anything else from myself.
I’m so sorry for all the blogging faux pas that I committed . I didn’t even know that blogging etiquette was a thing . Hopefully, you understand . But if I see a dead chicken on my doorstep and my hair starts to fall out I’ll assume the voodoo doll hanging from the car visor was meant for me after all .
Here’s to 2018 , finding my niche and keeping my hair !