Hello Fellow Bloggers,
I had no idea how much stress this whole blog sitting would be. It’s like having homework, but worse, because it’s not homework and it’s supposed to be fun.
What the hell is wrong with me I am thinking? I even typed this all out in Word first so as not to make any spelling and grammar mistakes. I was also going to take the easy way out and divulge a bunch of anecdotes about Susannah, you know, silly stuff only I would know, being her friend for many years and all, but that’s a cop out and the good student in me won’t allow it.
To be honest, I feel all this pressure because for the first time, I actually get to write whatever I want to write. I started my blog as a way to keep friends and relatives and any one else interested in my health issues informed (fabulous breast cancer and all its glory) and to avoid many phone calls forcing me to repeat the same info over and over again. Now that I am relatively cancer free and just waiting for my new boobs my blog is mainly about my baby Sadie and how wonderful she is. And this makes me feel weird. I mean, who am I to think I am so special, my kid is so special, that a blog needs to be dedicated to her, that strangers and friends and family alike would want to spend their precious hours in front of a computer screen to see Sadie eat, pull at her toes and eek out a small smile? Frankly, who are any of us to think we are so special that anyone else at all would want to hear what we had to say, look at what we think is cool, watch what we think is interesting? Because that’s what blogs are. A sort of look at me, listen to me, here’s what I have to say forum.
I guess my conundrum is about not wanting to appear self centered, yet I spend at least a few hours a week doing nothing but writing about my life, my kid and myself. And blogging in general is such a new form of communication, there really are no rules. You can do whatever you want. Yet still, I feel so strange doing just that. I guess all communication had to start somewhere. I doubt the Egyptian drawing himself holding a vase of water over his head got made fun of by fellow Egyptians for, ‘writing all about himself’. Not that I am likening blogging to the ancient art of cave drawings, but would if I was? So what, right? All I know is that I hang out with Susannah all day and I still rush home to check her blog. All I know is that I have received amazing support from total strangers that have brightened some pretty dreary days. All I know is that I am going to keep writing, as long as people are reading.
Anyway, that’s what I had to say, being free of the Sadie and Cancer subjects, house sitting for Petunia face and just free thinking.
But I won’t leave you hanging. I know what you all really want to know, and it isn’t my confusion about blogging and what it’s supposed to be. Here's something only I would know about little Miss S (Well Big S since Sadie is the Little Miss S in my life now).
We used to work at a café when we were...hmmm… I don’t think I’ll divulge the age because we were way to old to be doing what I am about to tell you we did. The café was in a bookstore (remember when those were sprouting up everywhere?). The bookstore workers were snobs and made us feel like idiots for being café workers. The customers were even worse. Anyone that can spend the bulk of a weekday reading magazines they didn’t buy and getting free refills on coffee are total weirdoes. The job was a waste of our time, but the hours were good and it was easy. To blow off steam pent up from being mistreated by both the bookstore snobs and the weird customers, Susannah would doodle penis’s on napkins. Oh yes, lifelike and flaccid, with pubic hair details and saggy scrotum. I am cringing with embarrassment at the memory.
Then we would tuck them in to the stack and wait as unsuspecting patrons grabbed a napkin with their latte and have fits of laughter in the back when her artwork was discovered, like ice tea coming through our nostrils it was so funny. By the way, it's taking all my moral strength not to post an image I found online that resembles these drawings. Every time I do it, I delete it because it's just so wrong.
I am sure Susannah would rather I told you all she was a cheerleader her freshman year and could play Madonna’s ‘Love Don’t Live Here Anymore’ by ear on the piano (these are other less interesting details only I would know, though the list is far shorter now that she has a blog), but I thought this one just might pack a larger punch with her faithful readers. Ok, got to go, Sadie is waking up.