And I said, nothing

11 05 2015

So this is what happens.

I have ideas, my thoughts scatter, I write nothing.

Next day, maybe I have thoughts, maybe I’m tired, I write nothing.

Then I’m busy, then maybe crabby, then maybe with the ideas; but: nothing.

This is how it goes for blogging, but it could be anything: The following days are some combination of plans, fatigue, and moodiness, mixed in with active avoidance of the thing I’ve been avoiding, thus creating anxiety about both the thing and the avoiding of the thing.

Nothing nothing (I should be doing something) nothing (something!) nothing (do it now!) nothing nothing nothing.

Oh, fuck it, I gotta do something, just to get over the not-doing-anything.

So, yes, substantively a bullshit blog entry, but as a tactic, it should get me movin’ again.


Better stop sobbing now

8 10 2014

I know I’ve been lax about blogging lately, but tonight I have an Actual Excuse™—two, even!

The tendon in my wrist is vibrating from my index finger to my elbow, and I sweartogod that there is a pebble in my eye that refuses all entreaties (read: eye drops) to dislodge itself.

My life is so, so hard.



8 03 2014

I wrote a terrible post yesterday: it veered off at the outset and I never quite wrangled it back in line.

Usually when that I happens I think Ah, what the hell and post it anyway. This time, I didn’t.

I’m learning. Slowly, but I’m learning.

Do allow me to lift the one thing that was good from that spiked post—and it was only good because it wasn’t mine:

I have no desire to make windows into men’s souls.

-Elizabeth I

So sorry

27 12 2013

I know it’s just killing you that I haven’t posted much this past week, but I’ve been fighting off a low-level migraine for the past, oh, hey, lookit that, week or so, and am too out of sorts to write.

And no, I don’t fake migraines. Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but the few times in the past when I’ve begged off of something due to a “migraine”, I’ve ended up really coming down with a migraine.

So I don’t mess with that shit anymore.

Tummy-aches, on the other hand. . . .

Workin’ in the coal mine

12 11 2013

Ha ha ha, right: teaching and freelancing offer a plenitude of opportunities to bitch, but the most I have to worry about is a sore throat, maybe a sore back, not black lung and cave-ins.

Anyway, I’m jammed up with work, which, on the one (lazy) hand is bad, but on the other (money-grubbin’) hand is good. Mostly it’s good.

I should be able to catch up by this weekend, but in the meantime, this is my excuse for no/scrawny posts.

At least, that’s my story, and all that.

Itty-bitty posts: the intro

28 07 2013

[UPDATE: Actually, these are now categorized as “quick hits”, because itty-bitty should really ever only be applied to a kitty, not a blog post.]

So I have this habit of thinking “oh, I could blog about that” and then forgetting thinking there isn’t enough for a post or just plain lazing away from blogging about that.

I don’t know how much I could do about the lazing and forgetting (hm, I wonder if those two are connected. . .) but I have put together “quick hit” posts to collect the bits into one respectable post. I don’t want to offer a single appetizer (or snack or tapas or amuse bouch) but a full meal; not just a single shot, but a bottle; not just a song, but an album; not a trailer. . . okay, this is getting out of hand, isn’t it?

Anyway, the point is, I try to offer a full thought, and when I can’t, I, um, don’t.

BUT NO MORE! Today, in exciting blog news, I’ll try to offer itty-bitty posts about what hits me when it hits me and see if this, ah, well, to see if this works, I guess.

So, to keep this itty-bitty, I’ll stop here.

Next thought: next post.


10 01 2013

Holy shit, I gots me some readers.

Two days ago I got this nifty email from Cherie Lucas stating that my Keep on keepin’ on post was Freshly Pressed, and I could add a banner and, um, some other stuff to spread the news.

Cool, I thought. And did nothing.

Wednesday afternoon I noted my followers had ticked up from 42 to 43, and thought, Hey, cool. I was going to write a post, then remembered a meeting at work today for which I had not prepared, and a former colleague was being sent off with some pints at a local bar, and. . . I think you know where this anecdote is going.

Anyway. After clicking through my various regular-read blogs, [Pause: Another holy shit—Supertramp on WNYC? What?! Oh, okay, just an historical snippet. Panic averted.] I thought I’d follow up on my presidents-are-assholes post with a consideration of ruthlessness and sons-of-bitches. A nice little piece, with some tasty bits from Machiavelli tossed in, a little Bueno de Mesquita and Riker, maybe some Schmitt, and appreciations for Cardinal Richelieu and Thomas Cromwell.

I think I would have been pleased with the post.

But no, I open my blog and, whoosh, 79 followers. Seventy-nine! If I could remember enough math, I could give you the percentage increase! Eight-four percent—is that right? Or maybe 88% if I start at 42 rather than 43 followers? Could be right. . . .


I’m rarely happy about anything, but I am genuinely happy that enough of you thought enough of that last post that you decided, Eh, I could follow this.

Okay, so maybe seventy-nine isn’t that big of a deal to many folks—especially those folks with three-, four-, five-or-more-digit followers—but I ain’t nobody, so I figure that if you’re reading this, it’s because you like or are provoked enough by what I write to (sorry about this. . .) keep on, keepin’ on.

That’s nice. That’s very nice.

A coupla’ things:

1. I swear, as you may have gathered. A lot. Ever since my high school English teacher tried to nudge me out of my potty-mouthed ways by stating that swearing was Not creative, I have mostly failed in my efforts to find more creative ways to express my ire/dismay/delight/boredom. (My current favorite swear? Fucking hell!)

2. I’m not on Facebook or Twitter. No Facebook because, no. And no Twitter because, as I explained to C., I can be insanely competitive in argument, so much so that that notorious xkcd comic prompts a sigh of recognition from me (yes, I have been that person). C. thought that the short format of Twitter might work against my triumphalist tendencies, but really, consuming those little 140-character nuggets would be like tossing back so many bite-sized Snickers. No, better to abstain completely.

3. I am also insanely reactive, which, predictably, enrages me. Okay, that’s overstating it: It used to enrage me, and now I’m mostly able to take a breath, take a walk, whatever, and clear my head before actually responding to whatever it was that set me off. This is why blogging beats tweeting: I’m less likely to pop off in long form. (Tho’, for the record, I do pop off in long form; cf. Category: Rant.)

4. I like comments! So comment! I’ll respond! And argue! I love to argue! (And despite what I said, above, I’m not always or even mostly insanely competitive. So bring it!)

5. I’m shit at promoting myself*, but will happily promote others, so if you have something you want to shout about, g’head and shout about it.

(*Not because I lack an ego—whoo boy, you oughtta getta load of the size of that thing!—but, because, huh, I don’t know, I’m just no good at it. Maybe it’s due to the size of my superego. . . .)

6. I do click on your names and gravatars to see who you are and if you have a blog, I’ll read it (although I don’t always comment—hypocrite, I know). Again, since I’m not on Facebook I can’t scrawl on your wall, but since you’ve taken the time to stop by my joint, it seems only neighborly that I swing by yours. I’ve gotten to know a coupla’ folks online and even hosted one cyber-friend (hi GeekHiker!) on part of his NYC leg of his trip around the US.

And if you don’t have a blog and don’t particularly want anything from me but the occasionally-worthwhile post, that’s great. This might sound odd coming from someone who’s sending words about her life out into the ether, but I do like my privacy, too.

7. Still, if yer ever in the vicinity of Brooklyn and up for a pint, drop me an email. As I noted in an earlier post, I’m trying to move my default from No to Yes—I’m trying to move myself—so any excuse to get out of the apartment and out into the world. . . .

So, hey (two words, along with “anyway”, that I overuse), welcome.


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