Basketcase

Pre-RSS blogging. Ok, how stupid is this?

I got nuthin’ to say!

I sit down to my rss feeds to see wazzup in the blogherhood, and I read aaaaaaaall about what’s going on, and then after I’ve had my morning coffee bloggy, I think “well, she said it best, nothing more to add.”

Dur!?

So today, a post without first checking the rss feed:

How ’bout all that crazy stuff on cnn.com today? How ’bout those Mets? Duuuuuuude The Internet has been depressed lately. I hope everyone’s okay. Today, I, like totally had, like, a hamburger for lunch.

::crickets chirping::

I’ve drawn a heavy line between what I will and will not blog about. Unfortunately what happens is that there full months when all the goings-on are going on on the other side of the line.

I don’t blog about my day job, because, well, that’s just dumb. I would prefer not to wear a big red sign that says “Hi My Name Is: Please Fire Me.” I don’t blog about my part-time teaching gig for the same reasons. There go 44 hours of unbloggable writing fodder.

I don’t blog about the problems in our marriage, because that’s just not nice. We were taught during premarital counseling that serious issues should be kept between our marriage and a professional. So far, that has been the best policy for us, and I haven’t seen a reason to change. I will not use this space to get back at him: “Hello, My Name Is: I Fight Below The Belt.” On the other hand, I haven’t seen too many marriage counselors set up shop in our neighborhood. Who do I talk to?

I don’t blog about my three loves; Goose, Moose & Monkey because they are minors and I respect their parent’s decision to not allow information about them on the internet.  After The Incredibles came out on DVD they rushed me into the house and insisted that I sit down to watch the extended scenes. We all laughed together watching Jack-Jack torment the babysitter. Jack-Jack’s got nothin on Moose. God love ‘em. They are my joy. I hope they know that. If this could be a babysitter blog, It’d be all them all the time. BOY have I got some stories for you. “Hello, My Name Is: That Crusty Old Lady Who’s Always Talking About The Old Days.”

I don’t blog about my family. I resent my perceived role in the family as The Keeper Of The Peace, and the expectation that I’m required to keep everyone’s secrets for them. I would love nothing more than to reach out into the Internet and grab up as much support for this burden as I can find.
Unfortunately, The Internet has many ears.

I can’t blog about my mom’s pet project, my brother’s recent major surgery, my father’s engagement, and the friendships that I’ve had to destroy because of the secrets they make me keep. I can’t have "a real and honest" conversation with any of my extended family because I am expected to dance around and juggle which thing I’m not supposed to say to who about what. I’m not sure who I have a genuine relationship with.

I’m tired of carrying all of this weight. I’m tired of losing friends. I’m gonna drop the ball. I can’t take the pressure, and I’ve been really depressed about this for the better (that is a stupid expression) part of my life. “Hello, My Name Is: Basketcase.”

It’s consuming. It’s exhausting. I’m losing myself.

There’s a tagline on a blog I read “lying by omission so it all seems just ducky.” After reading that blog long enough, I can guess what parts of her life aren’t “ducky.” That works for some people. Chronicle the positive so that it’s easy to look back on. I don’t know how to do it, so I end up posting cheesy avatars or nothing at all.

Tonight is date night. In the morning, I will get some genuine “me time.” Tomorrow will be the first time I get to hear Moose’s band perform. And now I get to go read all of your posts in my RSS feed.

::Inhale. Exhale. One foot forward::