I apologise profusely for my lack of communication. I had stopped writing in the flurry up to Christmas. But getting out of the habit and a little bit of soul searching left me questioning why I was ‘blogging’ in the first place. The finality of fireworks and bells ringing out 2011 (now to be known as the ‘year my pussy died’!!!???) and welcoming in 2012 made me take stock of my blogging ‘inspirations and aspirations’.
I soon realised that I was not in fact blogging ‘per say’ but writing small autobiographical pieces. They were neither articles nor were they short stories, but I had found a format that suited the way I write and think, but they were not blogs. I am meant to specialise in a subject and write daily ‘short’ and ‘concise’ synopsis of what I thought would grab people’s attention. But quite frankly I think there is enough inanity around for anyone to want to know ‘that today I made butternut squash soup. The butternut squash is a new addition to my stock weekly shop. What did I ever do without it? Such a versatile and robust vegetable, it deserves more attention, here are my eight favourite recipes.’ Or ‘My thirteen year old daughter and I had another battle over Mascara’. The truth is I don’t really have any teenage angst in my house ‘yet’. My daughter and I have a brilliant open, honest relationship and I’m not going to spice it up just so I can write a good blog, so I had a dilemma.
Christmas came and went and I knew you didn’t want to know that my husband was plagued by a bug and so Christmas was a bit boring, because I’m sure that your husband, child, mother, dog, probably had the same bug and you too were out of your head with mundaneness of ‘Poogate’. Nor did you want to know I ate my own body weight in ‘Roses’, even though I don’t really like them and in the end I couldn’t even taste them and that this act of pure gluttony, too much wine and ‘Noel’s Christmas presents’ made me cry a lot. Although you might want to know that I am the only one in the entire world who hates ‘Downton Abbey’. I recorded it for my mum and sat and watched it with her on St. Stephens’s Day and had a surreal out of body experience. Even though I had only ever watched it for ten minutes, I knew every single character by name and knew exactly what they would say and what would happen next. I then realised that my mum, who had been talking the whole way through, hadn’t been fast-forwarding the ads but actually rewinding the entire programme. But she still kept saying ‘now who’s he?’ and I strangely enough was able to tell her. A little Christmas Miracle. But I was too internally sluggish to write, (again I ask myself would you have been interested in what too much turkey, cava, blue cheese and Christmas cake did to my constitution? And again the answer is categorically “No”.
Blogging started to become a dirty word to me, I felt constricted by the rules and guilty for my self-indulgent ramblings. I also despised that, what was meant to be a pleasurable ‘self finding’ hobby had turned me into a media whore who seeks out approval from dark and distant crevices of the inter net. I was a little obsessive about how many hits I was getting and I didn’t care who and why people where reading or hitting my website, once it showed on my analytics.
Those who know me well, will know I am an open creature who will say what is on my mind. I will discuss openly taboo subjects that need to be talked about and go where others fear to tread, but the Internet can be a dangerous cavern of faceless nutters who I am only too aware of. I was treading very lightly, scratching the surface of subjects that I could have just exploded into, carefully editing and re editing so that I would not attract any undue attention from the mindless, faceless cyber lunatics who could zoom in on my family and me. Unfortunately this is not only an occupational hazard for ‘bloggers’ but also a daily scourge of modern living. Once you open the floodgates of social media you must be aware to ‘self edit’ and then ‘self edit’ again. A lesson that will only be learned as sociologists look back on this era.
‘At the turn of the 2000’s, an inexperienced and uniformed society of internet users, beguiled by this unknown media, misused and abused the phenomenon to such cartographic degree that we are still seeing the ill effect on society in the 2050’s’. V Ryan, 2012
I am a great believer that to be informed is to be empowered but I am also a great believer that to corrode the human brain with others pain, dysfunction, disillusionment, corruption, subterfuge can only end in tears and like many, the world wide web frightens me. On the other hand, I have enjoyed your enthusiasm and encouragement. I have loved that one tiny phrase or idea has provoked nostalgia, comfort and debate, so thank you for your support. So here’s my 2012 dilemma, do I continue to capture my tiny little piece of cyber space with my harmless banter or do I knuckle down and go where I said I never go again and write another book. Either way I’d love you to come on my journey. I’m forty-six this year. Is it too late for me to published? I am not ready to end my life long dream… I have an idea and I think it could work? I’d love you to come on my journey.