Heart barfing

I totally drew this.

Remember when I was asking if anybody was a blog therapist? (Neither do I, otherwise I would link to it). I was doing that because I think I've reached a milestone of sorts in my blogging career (it's not actually a career, but I don't know another word to use here) and I needed somebody to talk to about it.  I found one, by the way, but more on that in a minute. Because I like to keep you in suspense. *crickets*

I started this blog with no particular purpose or reason; it was just for the hell of it to see what would happen; because I had spent a week reading Hyperbole and a Half and it seemed like something interesting that I could try, too. But somehow it evolved into this huge thing with all these people and readers and honestly I have no fucking idea how that happened. How did that happen??

In my (limited) experience, most people start blogs because they have something to say: they have an opinion to record, something funny to say, an event to chronicle; and a need to write stuff. I don't really have those. I have opinions and funny shit to bullshit about, maybe, but mostly what I don't have is the need to write. I'm just not a writer, and I don't say that with the intent of calling myself a bad writer, writing is an art form, it's something you're born with and it's something I just don't have. That's not a bad thing, it just is what it is. I don't have the need; the pull, to write. That's what I mean when I say I'm not a writer. I sing. THAT I have the need for. So... why do I have a blog if I'm not a writer? Is what my blog therapist asked me tonight.

You may have noticed that I haven't been blogging much lately? It's because I've lost my blogging mojo (assuming that's a thing) and so I've been taking a break from blogging, hoping that some time away might do me some good. The problem is, though, that the longer I go without blogging, the less likely it seems (to me) that I'll ever be able to do it again. They say writing is a muscle you need to exercise every day, and I think they're right. Mine is getting flabby and fat. Story of my life. Although, just writing this post (which has now taken two hours, what with kids and bedtime and all that, and I've been moving paragraphs around and this parenthetical right here is the last part of this post that I wrote) seems to have made a slight improvement in the writing muscle. It's getting easier as I go. Funny how that works?

So..... I was talking to my blog therapist tonight, Pish Posh, (I warned her I would be giving her this credit. Visit her. PRAISE HER. LOVE HER. Oh and call her Dr. Barf. She likes that. Or was it Barf Doctor? I can't remember. Well, call her both. Whatever.) and she told me that I should barf my heart out onto the page. Just dig around and type out whatever comes to mind, she said. It doesn't even have to make sense! (I don't think she actually said that, I'm adding it after the fact, knowing that much of what I've written doesn't actually make sense). I said "won't that be self-serving and lame?" She said it wouldn't. So.... don't let her down, guys.... tell her it's not self-serving and lame.

That was a good question, though, that she had, in an earlier paragraph. Why do I have a blog if I'm not a writer? I don't know. Why do I? The tagline for this blog when I first created it was "I'm not sure if blogging is the proper forum for me, I might be more effective in 140 character increments." I still think that's true.

And so, I'm starting to think that maybe this blog idea of mine has simply run its course. Maybe I'm just done. Maybe I said all that I needed to say and now it's time to move on to something else? But, see... saying that, I know somebody is going to say "NO YOU CAN'T STOP BLOGGING," but, I think you would say that because you've seen the things I've written (and drawn) in the past and you want that to keep going, but honestly I'm not sure I have it in me anymore. I look at the things I've written in the past and I'm actually jealous of my former self. I used to be pretty good at this shit, right? Well, even if that were true, I'm not now. If you want to disagree with me? Just know that it doesn't feel good. (Then again, there's that blogging muscle thing I mentioned earlier, which does seem to be improving once I force myself. Okay THIS parenthetical is the last part of this post that I wrote. Unless there's another one coming up?)

The truth, though, is that I miss it. I miss the blogging, which is why I'm having such a hard time with this. If it was a simple matter of moving on to a different stage in my life, that would be one thing, but I don't know that I want that. I like being a blogger. I miss it. I liked what I used to be able to do. I want it back!!!

Every night when I go to bed, I turn off my phone and plug it into the charger next to my bed. I used to write posts during the day, and then schedule them to post around 5am my time the next morning, and the act of plugging my phone in was a reminder of whatever it was that I had scheduled to post the next day. On the nights when I had some nutjobbery that I approved of scheduled to post, I have to tell you.... that's a really good feeling. It felt good going to sleep knowing that during the night some theoretically funny shit that I had written would post, and people would read it, and maybe laugh.... That shit felt good; that anticipation. And then I would wake up in the morning and turn on my phone and I would get all these emails of comment notifications of you guys laughing at whatever I wrote, or whatever. I loved those mornings.

These days, I just plug in my phone and go to bed, and in the morning it's just all the spam that came in over night. Plus the digest from our school's e-list, which just annoys the hell out of me most of the time. And then I feel bad, because I couldn't write anything good enough to post, and it just feels.... empty.

So, on the one hand... maybe I'm done with this blogging experiment. But, on the other.... I want it back. Hence the heart barfing. In summary? I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. Oh. Look at that.

Anyway, I'm trying not to be whiny and self-serving, I swear; I'm trying to barf my heart out. I don't know how I've done. Oh, also, I may have been drinking. I'm not sure that's relevant, though. I'm just going to hit "publish" without asking anybody to read this first. I'm sure that's a good idea.

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