F@#$ing Blogtastic

The whole idea of this blog was to write every day (well, at least every week day). I thought that by simply forcing myself to crank out a paragraph or two each day, I'd suddenly be swimming in ideas AND discipline.

Guess what hasn't been the plan it was cracked up to be?

This is exactly why I was never good at journaling: that feel-good lynchpin of educated, artsy womanhood. I sit down with some cutesy blank book (with a pressed flower glued to the front cover or reproduced Lichtenstein print or something) and I it sounds awkward, contrived, and self-conscious. Now, I sit down to blog and it sounds awkward, contrived, and self-conscious...but I can't throw it out or bury it in my bottom drawer under this afghan my grandmother made me, affectionately known as the "Black Power Blanket" (red, yellow, green, and black yarn; I think she was trying to make a statement about the apartheid...it was the '80's after all). Now the world can read it. Well, two people can read it. Fine. My brother-in-law can read it. And my husband and sister when I whine enough...or refuse to hang up the phone, leave the room, or stop poking him/her in the spine until he/she does.

All week I've had this little thought bubble hovering over my head, "I really should blog." But then I decide I've nothing to say and the thought bubble turns to floating cartoon question mark. Then I silently chastise myself and get fed up with myself for doing so...just who in the Hell do I think I am? And the question mark is replaced by a little swirling funnel cloud.

I repeat: *sigh*

Then I remember everything going on in the world and feel stupid for having blog fatigue. There's famine, sexism, Darfur, exploding meth labs, Sanjaya on Idol, and stupid amendments about defining marriage as between a man and a woman (one of these failed this morning in the Indiana Assembly...a much more pleasant surprise than the fact that it was 78 degrees yesterday and is currently snowing). Mind you, the fact that I'm worried about the proverbial bigger fish doesn't mean I feel any better about being a blog failure. But I don't want to write about anything important, I guess...I want to come up with some more self-involved crap.

So, I'm going to go brainstorm some and get back to you.