I saw a girlfriend this weekend who was disappointed I don’t blog anymore. For myself, at least – blogging for others is my job at work. She said she understood. I’d disappeared into the happy place of “Boyfriend World.”
You know, that annoying place where your friends go and are suddenly rendered unable to return phone calls, make lunch dates without checking her boyfriend’s schedule, or stay in a conversation for more than five minutes before saying the words “We” and “Oh that reminds me of this one time with Boy, when” (proceeds to share something completely irrelevant that makes her smile at the end of her story and stare off into space while you stare at her and resume eating your chicken tenders).
So my friend says “Boyfriend world.” And I said, “No! I totally haven’t been consumed by my relationship, which by the way reminds me that it’s just 11 days away from being two years since I walked int0 Starbucks at 8:45 a.m. before my first-day-of-the-internship-HR-meeting and got myself a grande nonfat latte and a big ‘ol crush on the barista. So anyway… wait what were we talking about?”
(No but really it’s almost been two years!)
So am I in boyfriend world, and that’s why I’m not blogging? Sure, a little. But also:
Because it’s hard to blog at home when you blog all day at work.
I write, all the time. All day, everyday. And I don’t even mean I write e-mails all day, because that’s what people do when they have desk jobs that require sitting at desks communicating via e-mail and IMs 8 hours a day. I’m required to write sentences and taglines and paragraphs and posts and scripts and entire websites that read well, are grammatically accurate, are engaging and innovative and make people want to come back for more.
And I love every minute of it.
But at the end of the day, I cannot write for myself. There’s rarely a time when I get home and think, “Man that was a great day in front of my laptop. This day could only get better if I voluntarily spent two more hours in front of it.”
That said, the best writing still comes on my couch in pjs while eating ice cream. Luckily, I’m nearly positive I could tell my bosses, “Hey, I’m going to spend the day writing all the words while sitting on my couch in my pjs eating ice cream,” and they’d say okay.
Because I don’t want to be the girl in boyfriend world who writes about how *awesome* boyfriend world is.
Because nobody likes that girl. Also because that girl will only write about the *perfect* parts of their relationship and is unlikely to blog about the bad, or less good, days. It’s like these blogs need disclaimers: “I am only going to tell you the good stuff. You can assume I have snapped at, argued with, debated with, been frustrated with or otherwise had a not-perfect day with my boyfriend. But I’m only going to blog about the sunshine, glitter, roses and knight in shining armor that rescued me on his unicorn.”
Because I’m less inclined now to feel the need to take a day-trip to Cooperstown, and then come home and write about our day-trip to Cooperstown.
Because I’ve gotten past the point where I need feedback on my every move.
There was this day junior year of college. Before any internships or relevant job experience or any understanding of what I wanted to do. There was this career fair that I went to completely panicked because I was sure I’d never find a job (I hadn’t even officially declared my major yet – PR and Political Science) ever.
And I made eye contact with this girl with a blonde ponytail, who offered me an interview the next day to be an insurance saleswoman.
And I called my dad, “And they LET YOU BORROW THE COMPANY CAR!”
Now, this is absolutely nothing against insurance agents. It’s a great way to make a living. But it was also a sign that I had no idea what I wanted.
So I did the interview (it made me almost miss the sign-up for the Habitat for Humanity trip to Jacksonville, Florida that would impact my life more than this interview ever would). And then I came home and wrote all about it, so someone might pipe in on the comments section and give me all the answers as to what I should do if they offered me a second interview.
I have less questions now. Right now, at least. I’m sure I will in the future.
Because I’m trying less to over-think everything.
Because I do that a lot. And for years, that’s what my blogs were – lots of over-thinking written and shared. A good outlet for it then, but I’m doing it less. Because I used to panic and write and publish. And now, when I’m over-thinking and emotionally spiraling because a lovely lunch with Ryan’s grandma or his cousin’s baby shower makes me go “OUR CROSS-COUNTRY GRANDMAS ARE NEVER GOING TO BE AT THE SAME THANKSGIVING DINNER TABLE and IM NEVER GOING TO SEE ALL MY CALIFORNIA COUSINS’ BABIES UNTIL THEY’RE TOO OLD TO BE BABIES” – it’s not healthy. There are real forums now like living rooms where I can work that out without putting it online.
In my need to not over-think, I’ve taken up painting. Because since I’ll never do it for money, even if I screw it up, I can just paint another layer. And it’s really relaxing, especially when I’m not attempting to paint anything all that realistic.
Like here, with a bunch of blotches.
Which became a bunch of other color blotches.
And then I started to paint this blue background and realized that you can’t paint a background after you paint the foreground, so I covered it with a bunch of white blotches. And then I made a tree.
And at 10:30 p.m., in the time it takes to write a blog post, I was done.
So that’s why I haven’t been blogging.
There will be more posts. Some time from now, if I’m lucky, I’ll write a crazy pre-wedding series about how I have NO idea what flowers to pick or music to play and I’ll have the best Mommy Blog ever, written by myself, the mom afraid of cooking bacon for her kids because grease splatters terrify me. And I’ll write the “How I FINALLY got my children’s books published” post. Someday.
But for now, it’s a little less.
That’s what’s going on. Off to dinner while the sun’s still up!