Okay, that's totally a lie. Blogging doesn't suck. However, I suck at blogging. True dat. Doubt it? Take a look at how many posts I've made in like 18 months. What? 11 or 12? Less than one a month.Yeah, I suck at it.
So now I have decided I should blog, striving to at least make one daily post. Why? I don't know. Why do you ask me such difficult questions? Sheesh. It just seems like the social media thing to do. All the gurus are doing it. I look to the SM (no, not S and M, silly--get your dirty little brain out of the 50 Shades mindset. I'm talking Social Media) mavericks like Rachel Thompson or Melissa Foster. If I want to some day achieve such stellar SM Guru status, then I must blog. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. We have lots of arguments, she and me.
Blogging should be simple, right? I'm a writer, after all. Or at least I pretend to be. Publishing just one 110,000 word novel doesn't make me a "real" writer, I suppose. Wait. I just read on a Facebook meme that if I write, then I'm a writer. If it's on Facebook AND a meme, it must be true.
Okay, so I'm a writer. Let's just stick with that. Blogging should be a snap. It's not like I have to rip open my heart and pour out all my soul into a one-page post or anything. Not like I did with my novel...man, that was painful at times. A lot of cardiac surgery went into that thing. I laughed and cried through the whole process. Still do. And every time, I feel like the wallflower at a book fair for neurotic, bipolar, forties-something, premenopausal, psycho bee-atches.
But I digress. As usual. I'm blogging, not spilling my soul all over the carpet in a novel. So, what should I post about? I have no clue.
Wait! I know! Facebook memes! Like Grumpy Cat or The Most Interesting Man. No? You're sick of them, you say? How about Bitstrips? Whoa, whoa, whoa...no need to get violent. Dang. I think the little self-cartoons are cute, personally. I was able to make mine look pretty darned close to the real thing, with the angry wrinkle between the eyebrows and all. I got that wrinkle from years of being, well, angry.
Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Blog topic of the day (insert "doo doo doooooo!" music here): BEING ANGRY.
Like I said, I have this ugly gorge in betwixt my lovely green-with-brown-spots eyes. It came from eight, count them 8, years of being angry with #2's baby daddy. Oh, I had very good reason to be mad at the man. No, not a man. Man-child. He never actually matured into just-man status. Anyhooo, the man-child would rarely hold down a job, and when he did, would often blow his paycheck at the local titty bar on watered-down booze and sleezy lap dances. If he did decide to come home, often it was in a drunken rage. Have a few scars on me from that one, besides the angry gorge.
Being angry at the man-child did one of two things: 1) Gave me aforementioned angry gorge; and 2) Caused me untold stomach problems. It also probably drove the man-child to drink and stay away from home even more. Vicious circle and all that.
So, leaving that horrible volatile relationship took me 8 long years. Why so long? Well, the man-child needed me. He was too helpless to live on his own. He couldn't/wouldn't hold down a job, couldn't pay a bill on time to save his truck, and I seriously doubted at the time if he could even feed himself. It was up to me, aka OVERLY CODEPENDENT SUPERWIFE, to look out for him!
Leaving man-child baby daddy was the cure for most of my stomach problems, but spending 8 years scowling apparently takes a toll on the delicate facial tissues and so I am left with a permanent frown. That ugly frown is there even when I'm smiling and laughing.
I always said I was pretty much against plastic surgery for me, but if I could do one thing, it would be to fix that gorge. Of course, that's an out-of-pocket expense, because insurance companies don't believe that it's a medical necessity to smooth out my facial contours, the cheap bastiches that they are.
I wonder if I could get enough money if I stood on a corner with a "WILL WORK FOR BOTOX" sign. I'm thinking they'd take one look at the gorge and feel sorry enough to toss me a couple of bucks. Worth a try...where's my sharpie?