I discovered today one of the biggest problems with having a blog. You know what it is? Not writing to try and keep up with other blogs out there cause honestly I don’t care much for bloggers or blogging, no offense to other bloggers but on the whole I’m just not that into you. Nothing personal, or maybe it is I’m not sure, but you tend to drive me a little round the bend. I will expand on this further, when I rant about blogs that make me itchy. The kind of itchy that Benadryl wont fix and leads to the spilling of blood, normally mine from all the insane scratching. Of course there are exceptions to this rule, there are always exceptions to the rule, that gives me wiggle room!
It’s the pressure. Like real pressure, just trying to keep up with yourself and make sure each post is as good as, if not better than the last. OMG, that’s a lot of pressure for someone with OCD and a perfectionist streak a mile long. Pass the Benadryl, this post is making me itchy! Even I have limits to how witty, sarcastic, caustic or quirky I can be. Sure a lot of this is carb dependent, if you catch me on a carb high make sure you take a picture, because it’s always going to be epic. If you catch me on a no sleep caffeine high, run and hide. I think I’m hilarious in this state, others not so much so. The word “mean” has been used, but seriously I just think they are being oversensitive. So I find you funny, that’s a good thing, not many truly funny people out there. Well not that I want to be friends with, cause they are generally funny due to stupidity and with that though I’m chugging/swallowing handfuls of the Benadryl again. Don’t worry its OTC (over the counter) so no real harm can come from it presumably.
So for a perfectionist, OCD individual trying to write to keep up with yourself is a total mind bend. I’m competing WITH myself. The funny thing is in any competition or argument, Id back myself every damn time. Though when I’m pitted against myself? Woah it’s crazy, past self suddenly becomes the victim and present self the attacker, which seems fine in my head but in reality I have a feeling crosses a indefinable line between sanity and not quite right. I’m not sure trying to sink my past self is healthy and the fact present self doesn’t really care that healthy either. Yeah Freud psychoanalyze they crap out of that, lets just assume it comes back to some sort of parental complex or sex. Keeping those two ideas COMPLETELY separate or I’ll need to drink the entire bottle of Benadryl to cope.
So where was I? Oh yes that’s right, performance anxiety… Ok giggle, get it out-of-the-way…. Done? Good…. Lets continue.
Just like everyone else I have limits to how whity, sarcastic and full of quirky ideas. Well at leat ones I can publish that won’t land me in jail, get me divorced, have my kids taken or have bombs mailed to me. Can I write that last part? Postal bombs are no joke and I’m not mocking them at all, but if you were me you’d understand that they are a pretty legitimate concern. In my head at least. Note well to self, husband must check mail in future. No damn it that won’t work, how will I hide my internet shopping obsession? I need a mail fetching robot. Anyone want to build me one? Lets call him SVEN, just as a tribute to the Gonzo’s at FB. Hmm, maybe in 5 years when FB is sunk Mark can collect my mail? Solid plan. Jot that down. Ta!
Ok so back to my issue with coming up with ideas, good ideas. You know ideas that are good enough not stop me braining myself with the keyboard or trying to chase the computer mouse, cause damn Xanax cat isn’t getting that job done anytime soon. Maybe I need to put it on a plate like I’m going to eat it? That seems to get her attention.
So I sit here wracked with self-doubt. What if I peaked too early? What if my first post was too good? Maybe I should have started off crap, then that’s way the only way is up. Rather than down the proverbial crapper. My ego dislikes this, a lot. I like my ego, my ego loves me. See my problem? My ego doesn’t know whether to love or hate me anymore or to turn on itself. It’s a mess. What I do know it plays to win and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of its wrath. A pissy ego means I’m earning myself a very bad day. Which in turn means to feel better, someone else needs to have a worse day at my discretion. Any show of hands?
I suddenly know what it’s like to be a man, well sort of. There are a lot if things I’ll never understand, fart jokes, penis obsessions (their own not others I hope, but I’m all for freedom of choice), vagina obsessions (I’m assuming not their own, again I’m all about free choice), weird food choices, brinner (breakfast for dinner), had to be invented by a man. Also the song Africa by Toto, staple man favourite. God knows why?! Maybe cause he blessed the rains down in Africa? Whatever, it’s weird. Rum, adult cartoons (oxymoron anyone?), computer games, even worse online gaming oh and Journey. You know “Don’t stop believing”. Which was a manly staple until it became a Glee hit, now it’s totally uncool for a guy to like it…. Until you get them drunk. Ahh liquid truth serum, you make life so much more interesting. So cheers to that!
But my point is, the fear of peaking too early and then ruining it for the rest of our relationship. Well actually, I’m sure if a man peaked a bit later the next time around then things might improve. That’s if there is a next time around. But that’s a big what IF? You peak too early and lets just say to be putting out on what’s our second date, you’re pretty damn lucky, the criticism is going to be harsh. Though damn you who are you to judge, you put out on the second date? Yeah think about that for a while.
So now I have performance anxiety. What if I don’t perform, live up to your expectations. What if I don’t float your boat, what if you decide I smell funny? Hey I guess its possible, is there a smell app out there yet, it seems someone should have invented a smelling fart app. OMG what if my post is too small? How long is the average post? What if you don’t like the way I use it (waving to the grammar police out there and then giving them the middle finger, yeah you can Bite My Bark frankly, we are not friends, ever… well unless you are my friend and I tolerate this abomination cause you have some overwhelming redeeming feature I’ve decided I like. Though don’t rule out it’s just I like picking on you for being the grammar police)…. Targenting, you’ll need to learn to go with it. Swig the Benadryl, you’ll catch up soon enough!
So back to comparing myself with other blogs generally and then specifically that are my blog, not to be confused with random blogs. Confused yet? Welcome to my scrambled egg mind, actually brinner sounds good right about now….How many hits do they get and where do they rank? On Google obviously, but there are millions of blogs. God it’s like having a hooker rank clients, can I buy your good graces by tipping well? Scrap that, I never pay full retail for anything, so buying you would end up having you call me cheap and that’s not something that’s helping my performance anxiety. How do I compare to other blogs you read, do I rate in the top 10? Will you remember my name 10 minutes after leaving my page, let alone the next day. Will you want to get down with my blog again? Will you bookmark me? We all know bookmarking is the speedial of the internet world…. Hang on, back up a bit, your bookmarking me after our second date and after you put out? Yeah I really know how men feel, the pressure, bookmarking = future plans. Eeek!. No you can’t meet my parents, but don’t worry my husband didn’t meet them till a year of dating. I also didn’t put out on the second date, so overall you’re doing better than he did.
Man, this blog thing is rough. I guess the plus side to all of this is I have boobs. Yeah sure it’s not related, but it’s a plus to everything really.