Hey, whoa! It’s me! Writing a blog post! This is kind of surprising, because things got weird there for a while and I disappeared.
I’m afraid I won’t be posting anything to this blog today.
I hope no one was looking forward to it or anything, because it’s just not happening. I try to make myself post something once a week because I think it’s good writing practice and because I enjoy it. (I don’t enjoy blogging while I’m doing it, of course. I like it later, when a spambot tries to sell me knockoff purses by commenting “Fantastic publish, very informative. I’m wondering why the other experts of this sector don’t realize this!” on a post I wrote about how drinking water will turn you into a mermaid. Then it’s fun.)
Last weekend I finally finished the first draft of a thing I am physically incapable of talking about. Now it’s sitting in a folder on my computer, waiting for me to come back to it and give it the rewrite it desperately needs.
I say that because right now it is terrible, and I don’t mean that in an aw, shucks way. I mean that it might actually be pages and pages of random nouns and verbs strung together. The typing monkeys everyone is always talking about are probably producing an exact copy of it at this moment just by slamming their fists into the keyboard. I’m afraid to open The Folder because I’m worried I spent hours and hours of my life working on something and I could have produced the same result by jumbling up a dictionary.
I wrote a blog post last week about comments. It was an in-depth exploration of the relationship between content creators and their audience, asking important questions like “Isn’t engagement the point of social media?” and “Does staying away make you seem like a mysterious recluse à la J.D. Salinger, or just Kanye West-cocky?”
You’ll just have to trust that I wrote it, because I didn’t post it. I felt too weird about its navel-gazing vibe. This whole blog is basically one disturbingly long stare into my bellybutton, but that post took self-absorbed introspection to a new level. I started making a lot of drawn-out, groaning noises, like one does when one is in mild distress and feeling dramatic.
“Do you have any other ideas?” Jordan asked when I explained the problem.
“Yeah, but they suck,” I said, and groaned for two minutes straight.
“Well what are they?”
“Uh. I thought about writing one called ‘Fashion Blogging Seems Like Something I Could Do, Right?’, but then I realized it doesn’t.”
“It really doesn’t,” he said kindly. “What if you write about your new cat?”
“Yeah, I thought about writing a Winston Purrchill-themed list, but I don’t really know him yet.”
I don’t pretend to know how WordPress works. I just type things and people read them, then WordPress sends me an email at the end of the year with fireworks in it. Now you know why I’ve never written a post on how to blog.