This here blog-writing shit is hard.
I am sorry I ever mocked someone’s post about laundry day or their kid’s poopy diapers. Because I find that I have little to say most nights. And I try to soothe myself — if you come up with one substantive post every week, that totally gives you the freedom to post brain farts and to do lists and deep thoughts about your lactose intolerance the other six days of the week. But the blog stats, they don’t lie.
I’d happily reveal my deepest, darkest secrets — I’m a girl who blurts first and thinks later. But I am not anonymous here and while my job isn’t one that requires upstanding behavior at all times and my mother doesn’t have this site bookmarked, still I am reluctant (read: afraid) to hang all my stuff out here like shirts on a line.
But I don’t think this means I shouldn’t be blogging — there is some amazing writing out there that doesn’t focus solely on the ultra-personal stuff that I still feel belongs solely to me and the few, few people I take into my confidence.
So I guess what I’m trying to do is say thanks for reading this, even when it’s less than revealing, and remind myself to be patient with the development of my voice and the definition of a place where I’m comfortable.